Not To Dream
Drink a cup or two of heavy caffeine
I suppress my own urge to spit the bitterness out
Lean uncomfortably on your stiff back
I feel the cold wooden chair pressing on my spine
Keep the hands busy, although it may be pointless
I crack my fingers to break the silence
Make sure the eyes are wide open
I bear the weighty lashes, constantly blinking
Do not lose the tension on the shoulders
I keep my elbows away from the armrest of the chair
Avoid the pleasure of the warmth
I enjoy the shiver as much as I wish
Desire not to dream
I keep myself out of the swift absurdity leading to obnoxiousness
Keep the space bright and artificial
The unceasing LED lights blur my exhausted vision
Plead with the sun not to rise
The closed shades should protect me from the new day
As I Lay
The flashing light brightens the room
In strobes of color
A plant’s shadow projected on the white wall
The blurred outlines, a tint of purple
In the darkness, the air still shimmers
The remanence of objects flickering
As if it is still there
The ladybug crashing to the ceiling light
Irritates the atmosphere
Failing to resist the temptation of the bright warmth
The wings flap and twitch
The legs are fragile and pendulous
It moves and vibrates simultaneously
until it is abruptly compressed by a tissue box
marking a two-dimensional print on the wall
The wind blows the light into the room
Filling it with the lustrous gleam
soon cancelled out by the winter breeze
Each blow pushes against the shade
The wooden handle tapping the windowsill
Bouncing back into the room,
Its movement is ceased by gravity
The window is locked
And air pressure is now behind firm glass
I Almost Said It
The cracks in the paint
on the ceiling
was partially scraped off
Revealing the bare grey concrete
I almost asked for help
My finger dialed a familiar number
That has been lingering in my head
Since the day you disappeared
I hovered above the green button
The room was empty
the disgusting solitary
Reminded the warmth
Once pressed upon the shoulder
by the weight of your head
The walls seemed too white
once shaded
with two orange shadows
at sunset
The water in the glass
remained still and untouched
Subtly reflecting my face
Too colourless to be shown
Lauren Kim is a high school student with a fervent love for both poetry and visual art. Her work delves into the intricacies of identity, the nuances of nature, and the emotional currents of teenage life. Through her poems and mixed media artwork, Lauren seeks to capture and convey the beauty in moments of introspection and everyday experiences. When she’s not writing or creating art, she enjoys exploring the outdoors, reading contemporary poetry, and experimenting with new artistic techniques. Lauren’s work has been influenced by her diverse cultural background and her deep connection to the natural world. She aspires to continue growing as an artist and a writer, sharing her unique perspective with others.
You can find more of Lauren’s work here on Ink Pantry.