rest in peace,
rest in peace, I repeated
if only I knew
are you resting in peace?
the cold sky stretches beyond us
with no reply,
it does not open its frozen lips
it simply grows darker
turning its face away,
the blue winter night
filling up my eyes,
I saw your empty room
shadows crawling in,
I saw the quiet kitchen
so much like my own,
I saw the coal briquette
the symbol of winter comfort,
and then
I saw you sleeping
in the December twilight,
and you were to never
my heart went deep down
into the pits
of my soul,
looking for you.

did you cry?
did you think twice?
before you chose to die?
we stand unanswered
in a vast white space
a frozen lake, an empty wasteland
you are gone
you cannot speak
you cannot live
ever again.



six days ago, I was a better person
and now I know I’m not, I
realize your flat “a’s” and the
words your lips make are probably
unique to the place I left,
and I want to cry, because
the hell do I know
why I’m here
or what I want from you
or anyone else for that matter,
I’m just drifting around
inside my own mind
it’s the 4th of July and nothing
reminds me of home
but these
insatiable, unstoppable,
inevitable lonely nights
and nothing can cure me.


It’s too hard to feel loved
I hate myself for
all the trash in my kitchen
piled up and molding,
I wonder if I’ll ever be
ready for others to
come in unexpectedly,
What I want and what
I give myself is so different,
Why do I live in this cycle endlessly?
Dirty dishes, greasy sheets,
since the time he came here
to sleep, I need to
wipe away those flaws
stop procrastinating,
I just feel too tired to properly
accomplish things.


Deep forest green are the trees,
their backdrop the gray

Jeju skies of winter,
we fly
down a mountain road, it
reminds me of that time
I broke through
the clouds
sleeping over the island,
but I could still see
Mt. Halla,
“jejune” sounds like
Jeju, and it echoes my past
of naive happiness
as if I were screaming
into a canyon,
but instead of returning
my voice just keeps travelling
on and on and lost forever,
a song repeats
in my head, it tastes
like cigarette smoke,
car exhaust, and
fried red bean bread,
steaming warm
in my gloved hands,
bought in a grimy subway station
in old Seoul,
the young man
who is singing, he knows
the dreary days I
keep seeing, he feels
this lukewarm winter,
painting the landscape
a dull pallet
of breathtaking wonders
gone cold, and
old joys made
I wrote this about winter in Jeju, and the depressed feelings I experienced during my winter here. One of the things that made me feel better during that time was Kim Namjoon’s mixtape, as I felt like he understood what I was going through. I wanted to capture that experience for a long time, but I couldn’t really write until I started feeling better.