──( the stars glitter above✦ )

[basil!]

will i amount to anything
in your eyes?
'cause you mean so much in mine.
you are everything.

i'll steal your identity,
rip off your face and take your body.
i want to be you,
i want your eyes and your hair
and your brain and your face
and your thoughts and your voice.
i am nothing,
and you exist.

maybe if i was you,
i would amount to something in my eyes.
would i stop gnawing at myself,
wanting more, more?
you are perfect,

and my thoughts never mean anything.
worthless, i discard them,
rip them apart and burn them.
nothing i make will ever have worth,
not in my eyes.

but you have it, worth.
i want it too.

delusional thinking.

[basil!]

when i dragged my eyes open two immediate concerns came to mind: i was wet and very very cold.
the iciness pierced me and chilled my bones, and i could barely feel my body, my extremities reduced to a sensation of tingling. the droplets of freezing water clinging to my scales didn't help, and i curled into a ball, trying to salvage any kind of body warmth.
except, there was no heat emanating from my body; i was just as cold as the air around me.
that was mildly disconcerting, but i had more urgent matters to attend to. i tried to hoist myself into a sitting position; this proved to be very difficult when i could not feel my legs. the world became a mosaic of colors and i closed my eyes, bringing my hand up to my head. the dizziness wouldn't cease, so i lay back down into the cold puddle (albeit a bit reluctantly). "if i die, i'll start to feel warm as my body shuts down, so i might as well just wait it out" i reasoned, and closed my eyes again.

the next time i woke up i was not dead, and i did not feel particularly warm either. the only change came in the location of the moon, which was almost completely obscured by heavy fog. "this is quite disappointing," i thought.
i tried to sit up, and this time it was a bit more successful. my head throbbed, but i could tell up from down and a bit of feeling had returned to my body.
wip

[basil!]

how do you make something of yourself,
zigzagging through the columns of the d train station
while i sit on the yellow-and-red striped edge
and swing my legs above trash and deadly electricity.

the train is coming;
red lights shining, the roar
filling my ears
and drowning out the jazz music from some street musician.

i trace your path with my eyes,
watch as you walk to find
the place the train cart will be emptiest.
some optimistic part of me waits for you to glance back;

the train comes to a stop.
the doors slide open, you ride home,
and i lose my legs.

[basil!]

i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you
everything i say falls out of my hands and into you,
always into g*ddamn you.
then you take my words and weigh them
and assign the number of my worth for the day.

i walk with the number above my head
in fat black ink, and it drips
onto my hair and makes it even greasier.
it runs down my face and
everyone knows; today i am worth nothing.

they laugh and stare
and kick and punch
and i smile because i know--
i am worth nothing.

the numbers drop lower and lower
as you get bored,
and i trace the symbols.
my notebooks are filled with it;
how many times have you smiled at me today?

have you talked to me,
savored my words in your mouth
and smiled at the taste?
ran through my head and enjoyed every bit?

if not, i will discard my personality,
crumple up the pieces of paper
and rip my words in half.
i will reform my body,
break my bones and remold my face.

anything for you to look twice at me--
anything for you to give me a higher number for today.
i wish you loved me.

[basil!]

i spotted someone on the street.
her hair was waving in the wind
and, unable to resist some wild temptation,
i tapped her on the shoulder to say hi.

but the world quivered and shook
and unwound itself at my touch.
the universe itself wrapped around my
fingers and dripped onto the floor.

the girl then turned and
her eyes were blue and grey and scared;
mine;
i froze and she disintegrated into dust.

i woke up to the monotone beep of my alarm
clock and light climbing through the window blinds.
i touched my face and it did not
flake and fall away; i sighed

and wondered who she was, that mirage,
some broken version of me--
i feared that if i looked too close,
she would reach out and i would disappear with her.

[basil!]

i hate scrolling mindlessly through the
sea of posts, reading each poem as if it
was a rubric, some set of rules i need
to follow and overcome.

i don't know who i'm trying to impress
with the words falling from my mouth;
the spark of joy when someone is less skilled,
the pride, the conceit,
leaves me sick.

i read the words but instead
of savoring them i take out a ruler
and measure their worth, and then
throw them away like trash--

i insult both their writing and mine.
it leaves me unsatisfied and empty,
work worse than mine making guilt eat at me
and work better crushing my confidence.

compliments mean nothing when
my perception of the world is based
on how many people commented on my
post; chasing the goal of fame is meaningless.

but i cant look at my work and
be satisfied until i prove something to someone--
prove my right to write? my right to live?--
to the world? to my friends?

why do i have to prove that
i deserve to stand on this earth?
who started this, i wonder,
this pervasive feeling of worthlessness?

for what's the point of writing
when it's made for likes and comments
and compliments i can't bring myself to believe?
i hope i can write for myself one day.

[basil!]

today i went on a walk with my mom and my baby brother. it was really nice and i saw a lot of things on the way. i am trying to appreciate the little things in life more. that's such an overused phrase but it's true. i've been outside so many times but i've never truly seen the things around me; i was too lost in my own worries and thoughts. sometimes it's really nice to just look around, and it's still pretty hard for me to be present, but i am working on it.
i saw an abandoned house that i've seen a few times before, and it has always intrigued me. it looks like it was once very pretty, but now its collapsing on itself. the windows are shattered and the windowpanes broken, and the entire yard is overgrown in weeds and trees. its so thick i can barely see the entrance of the house. i saw a newspaper on the porch steps once, which was interesting. i wonder who owns it and why it's in such a sad state. i would like to explore it some day, maybe.
i mostly walked in the areas with the nice suburban houses. i have never realized how many different houses there are. some had domes, some were big, some had bricks laid out in a zig-zag pattern. some had yards and dirt paths leading to their doors. some had vegetables and flowers tangled in the fences. i live in an apartment, but i would like to have a house like that one day.
there was an old man who waved to us and said good evening. he was pretty old and was sweeping leaves off of the street. it was really nice. i walked by another house and they had a cute dog with a small stubby tail. i leaned down to look at it and these little kids that were playing with it said hi to me and waved. i waved back.
i saw a girl with blonde hair and sunglasses and two skirts layered over each other. she was pretty cute. i saw a lot of people. it's always so weird to see so many people with their own lives, their own goals and aspirations and worries, all having somewhere to go and be. i wonder if strangers wonder about me too. i wonder if they try to guess who i am or what i do every day or where i'm going.
i also saw a memorial for a seven year old girl that was a hit by a car. it was sad, but the memorial was nice. there were flowers and stuffed bears and lots of candles, one of which was still burning. there was also a board with her name, date of birth and death, and messages in messy handwriting from kids that were probably her friends or classmates. some of them had written "i love you", "i will miss you", or "i am so sad." i don't know if they wrote this because the adults told them to or if they meant it, but it's sad nonetheless.
i really want to appreciate all these things more. one good thing quarantine has done was make me realize how much i took everything for granted. now i have realized how nice it truly is outside, even if i just like the way the sun bathes everything in a soft glow at noon. i hope i can continue to become a better person like this. i hope i can stop trying to prove my right to live and simply exist.

[basil!]

each moment slipped so painfully through my hands.
the fabric of time curled around my fingers and i could feel it falling farther and farther away with each tick of the clock.
i breathed out and a cloud of smoke billowed around my mouth. a scarf lay snugly against my neck, and i was so cold.
each minute passed by as i followed her with my eyes. every second fell out of reach as i watched her laughing with her friends, going into stores, buying food, using her phone. i wanted to see what app she had open, whose profile she was looking at. who she was texting.
snowflakes started to drift gently from the sky, and they landed on my clothes. my bare hands stung and started to go numb as i pulled my flimsy winter jacket closer to my body. it was getting dark and the sun bled with red and orange. the dirty city streets shined blue and grey.
i watched the snow gather in mounds on the floor, watched the dirt pollute it and color it dark grey. i watched people going in and out of the ramen shop, the doorbell jingling as they walked into the store. i imagined the carpet inside, the couches and the steaming hot noodles served on ornate plates, and it made my mouth water. i dug my hands into my jacket pockets and came up empty.
i turned around and spotted her, still sitting on a lone bench on the side of the street. she was huddled up in her jacket and she looked so cold. a surge of compassion, of love, ran through me. i wanted to hug her and warm her with my body heat.
the bench she was sitting on looked chipped and dirty. her gentle pale skin and pretty body deserved a much nicer seat. i wondered what she was doing out so late.
her brown hair waved in the wind and i wanted to run my fingers through it, to hold it close and smell the shampoo. she would probably smell nice, like flowers or cinnamon. i knew i would feel safe in her arms.
she turned around. i froze as her eyes stared into mine. they were so brown and the light from the sunset hit them just right, illuminating them, making them glow. there was so much emotion in them, so much beauty, that i could stare for hours and analyze all of the patterns in them. i thought maybe i could draw them from memory one day.
she stood up and started walking to me, her cheeks flushed red, breathe billowing around her. my heart beat wildly in my chest and i remained crouched near the wall, leaning my head against the cold brown bricks.
"what are you doing here?"
her voice was so angelic, so sweet, and my chest burst with such overwhelming warmth that i forgot it was the middle of winter and snowflakes were gathering on my clothes. i broke into a smile i tried desperately to suppress.
"um, are you okay?" she frowned as she looked down at me. "i saw you were staring at me and it was kind of freaking me out, so, um, please don't do that."
tears pricked at my eyes. i was finally talking to her! i was finally talking to... someone...
the water rolled down my cheeks and fell onto the floor. my shoulders shook and i sobbed.
she sat down next to me and her body was warm. i leaned against it, against the warmth, and the tears kept flowing from my eyes and dripping everywhere. i tried to stop but could not and the tears got on her clothes. i wanted to apologize but i could barely speak.
we sat in silence.
"i'm sorry," i choked out.
she didn't answer, but looked at me with sympathy in her eyes. it made me sad. i didn't know why, but that pity made me deeply, deeply sad, and i burrowed my head into my knees.
i drifted off, and at some point she must have left. when i woke up my eyes were almost frozen shut and trails of ice ran down my face.
i never saw her again.

[basil!]

i hate reading things that i like. i hate reading things that have so much meaning because im scared that ill never be able to reach that kind of profoundness. im scared i will never be able to leave a lasting impression on anyone. im scared that everything that i want to say has already been said by someone better at explaining and more effective at displaying. what if i have nothing to bring to the world? i guess i'm jealous, in a way, of all those people making meaningful and beautiful things.

[basil!]

The weather drops near winter-cold;
The trees all shrivel up and shrink.
The animals bury their gold,
And birds gather at lakes to drink.

I’m stuck below branches that split
The sky into complex designs;
I start to walk and wonder why
My hands go numb like this, combine

The snowflakes-- dripping cold-- and skin,
As ice carves letters on my palms.
I wonder, if the cold draws in,
Will my heart freeze as my head calms?
(I really don’t think I would mind.)

If I can let the cold take me
And feel each limb succumb to frost,
My body intertwined with trees
I could stand solemn guard, dreams lost.
(To drift away would be so kind.)

But I look at bleak, broken skies.
The snowflakes float down on my nose.
And as the cold wind stings my eyes,
I know death is just useless prose.
(maybe in empty cold I’ll find)
(the peace; the bliss; some time; rewind.)