寫 意
SCRIBBLES
SOAR
ISSUE 18
SOAR Verb
1. To rise to great heights 2. Ascension
noun
1. the act of flying upward
Photography By Colin Huang
ISSUE 18
“Truth is not only a matter of fact but a state of harmony with progress and hope. Enveloped only in its wings will we be able to soar to the promise of our greater selves.� - Bryant H. McGill
Made possible by the English Department and the Publication Suite
operations Director phyllis Lam '20
Layout Director Stephanie yu '20
Art Director
Bertha ho '20
english writing Director
nicole chen '20
Chinese writing Director christy tang '20
r
0
T H EA M E T
LAYOUT
WRITERS
Wee Lee Tan Nicole Xiang Lara Carolan Sanya Hui Malin Leven Hannah Wong Rachel Yeam Jessica Hu
Catarina Correa Tanya Wan Stephen Chen Laetitia Loo Adele Li Karen Lee Ethan Lau Alysa Wong Shivahn Garvie Rita Chun Jocelyn Cheng Joyce Jiang Elaine Hua
ARTISTS+ PHOTOGRAPHERS
Cindy Lim Colin Huang Enzo Cremers Ethan Chen Ian Choi Isaac Chik Jessica Hu Kalysha Wong Kristen Wong Stephanie Yu Wang On Yuen Caterina Jacobelli
A LETTER
FROM THE ED BOARD 親愛的漢基: 暑假的步伐漸漸逼近，大家也終於能從學校的 種種壓力和考試中得以解脫，有些許餘裕來好 好放鬆慰勞自己。為了能將這一年畫上完美的 句號，我們為你們呈現第十八期的《寫意》—— 飛翔。本期雜誌的主題緊緊圍繞 “上升”，“ 攀登”與“成長”等關鍵詞，希望讀者們能在 閱覽中尋覓得屬於自己的收穫。寫意團隊中每 一位優秀的寫手和藝術家都紛紛將自身對於刊 題“飛翔”的理解映射在了自己的作品中，他 們對於藝術的探索和對創作的發揮可在行行文 字與幀幀畫面中被讀者飽覽。 除去團隊本身成員們的投稿，我們更希望《寫 意》能夠成為你的創作平台：只要拿起筆，就 能發揮無限可能！《寫意？編輯組在這裡鼓勵 不同年紀的學生們一起為《寫意》出一分力， 創作出屬於自己的獨特作品，把創新的力量傳 播給身邊的每一個人，使校園充滿靈動與新 意。而對於即將離開漢基校園的畢業生們，我 們祝你們在未來的路上一路順風。 希望你們喜歡第十八期的《寫意》！ 《寫意》編輯組
Dear CIS, You made it! Although it has been a stressful year, we hope you still had an enjoyable and memorable time this year. Our theme for issue 18 of Scribbles, Soar, is the embodiment of rise, ascend, and growth. All writers and artists have revealed their individual artistic abilities, and we hope that Scribbles will be the platform for you to express your ideas next year as well. Everyone has their own starting point, and maybe Scribbles will be yours! Through Soar, we hope students can present to you a gallery of vivid experiences and inner thoughts, and to inspire others to express their own creative works. For those who are leaving, we wish you good luck on your future endeavours. Hope you enjoy the 18th issue of Scribbles. Love, The Scribbles Team
Contents
.
a
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A Voyage An Account of a Student Don’t Fly Too Close To The Sun How to enjoy a sunset? Watching ice floes on a February morning A Bird’s Story 咖啡牛奶 Soar Watching 光 Bird 我的水杯 A Thousand Paper Cranes Speed Demon Music Playlist
Your mind The ceiling The ceiling above The rooftop Your sky
A Voyage Stephen Chen (11Y2)
Your sky Hot Air Balloon Airplane Space Shuttle Satellite The mind is yours The sky is not the limit So up until up is no more But the voyage will stop Gold, blue, and red makes lights white It’s the colour of explosion It’s the colour of ashes Because one hunter shoots at another
Jessica Hu (11G1)
an account of a student Laetitia Loo (11P1 )
C
y
th
b
you’re young, you have loads of time
high school has crashed into your life
there is no need for worry
much like birds crash into windows
your life doesn’t need to be figured out
without warning and violent
y
ti
o
so you look on with bright, carefree eyes
this is fine, you tell yourself
all you want to do is be happy
the insanity and craziness
and you are
none of it really shakes you
s
you breeze through the first three years
it’s time to grow up, your parents say
h
everything seems so stressful
what’s wrong with the way i am now?
y
but only because you create problems for yourself
for the first time in your life, you’re drowning in doubt
it
procrastination and late nights
what if my grades aren’t good enough?
it
they become your kryptonite
i never worried before but maybe that was mistake
but you don’t realize it yet
i’m struggling and i don’t know what to do
it’s no big deal you think
so what else can you do but pull yourself back together
the adults frown but you shake it off
in a duct-tape and super-glue way that will
why are they worrying? you’ve got time
the fissures growing deeper each time you break and mend
s
n
s
‘w
b
ti
b
th
you parents keep tell you ‘you’ll be fine
but you can’t afford to shatter, not yet
after all, you go to this amazing school
you still have three more years.
th
you have a comfortable life’
you’ve got time. your self-destruction isn’t imminent yet.
s
stepping into a new middle school
then your hopes and dreams get crushed
it seemed like the most frightening thing
so easily and simply
but it wasn’t. not by a long shot
one rejection, then another
Caterina Jacobelli (12R1)
you’ve faced them before but not like this
everything seems to be building up to the future
this time, it feels like the end of the world
but why does it have to be?
but only because your world has become so small
why can’t we just be happy now?
you tell yourself that it’s time to grow
is happiness only found once we’re out in the world?
time to become someone better and stronger
is that what it takes?
otherwise, you won’t make it
what sacrifice is required along the way?
so you plunge straight into the long nights and isolation
i suppose, in a way, all of our hard work could build up
not this weekend, i need to study.
to achieve what we now see as a fanciful dream
sorry, i have to go finish my assignment
and finally, capture the elusive beast we’ve named happiness
have some fun. make new friends!
one day we’ll be receiving our letters
your family is happy but still dissatisfied
unfortunately, it’s too late for hogwarts
it’s good but still not enough
the news they carry could be both devastating or life-changing
it never seems to be.
one day, we’ll be stepping over the thresholds towards a bright and significant point in our lives
so you continue further down this path
college
‘we haven’t hung out in ages.’ because i can’t. i don’t have time
and years later, we’ll be stepping over the thresholds once again though this time not in arrival but departure
time. it seems to be something that we constantly need
as we move on in our lives to ‘bigger and better’ things
but why do we always ask for more while wasting what we have? the hours and hours on end that we spend mulling over the past.
it’s in the future that we’re going to thrive in the future where we’re supposed to be our best selves
the hours and hours on end that we spend mulling over the past. spent planning for the future
so here’s to our future, in hopes that we will soar
’t fly too close to t hee sun D Doonn’t f su n Karen Lee (11G1) If I could, I’d give my wings to you, I hate to see you fall on your knees, But promise me, my dear, when I strap them on, That you won’t dare to fly too close to the sun. The hot rays will melt your wings, sweet one, And then you’d fall, tumbling to the ground. If I could, I swear, I’d give you my eyes, I hate to see you scared in the dark But promise me, when you open them, That you won’t go marvel at the sun, The light will blind you, and when you open them again You won’t be able to see anyone. If I was able to, I’d give my heart too, So you could feel love, happiness, joy, Not only that, I’d give you fire, To last you through your coldest days. I’d give you time, all the time I have, To make that frown into a smile, If I could I’d give you me, Be by your side when you want me to be. But sweet one, promise me if I do, That you won’t put my heart to waste, That you’ll stay away from the flame, And not burn your skin, That you won’t let hours go by, watch days grow thin. If only I could, I’d give my wings to you, I hate to see you struggle to walk But promise me, my dear, when you start to fly, Please, I urge you, don’t fly too high. Your wings will melt, And then you’d fall And I would be there, through it all To have given you wings, just to see You having to crawl again on your knees.
Colin Huang (13B2)
How to enjoy a sunset? by Ethan Lau (11R1)
365 days a year, 730 times the sun appears and disappears. Across the seasons and between time, the sun will come and go like a voyager on a journey. In any corner of the globe, you are able to witness mother nature’s act of brilliance. But this simple act of appearing and disappearing has become so engraved into our life that we don’t appreciate the times of light and brightness, or sadden when the light goes. During the day, as the sun moves from east to west through the sky, no one notices. However the moment its great light disappears under the bottom of our eyelids, we know the days we have have shortened. And this is mother nature’s everlasting masterpiece, painted across the canvas of the sky, the everlasting reminder of time. Sun setting, sky dimming, time passing. The sun sets as if personifying a goodbye, making them so painlessly beautiful.
The refraction of light causes the colours of the sky to change and morph into kaleidoscopic sights, as if it’s gracefully saying goodbye. Distracted by the picture perfect views of the sky, few notice the origin of the sights, slowly slipping away. On other days, there is no rich, saturated, multi-colored display for us to adore, just a blur of light behind clouds of white and grey. Those days we understand what being left is truly like, no vibrancy or fire, just darkness. New people, experience and memories enter our lives everyday. Nonetheless with new comes old, and there are some goodbyes that are just inevitable. To love and feel a moment for itself and nothing more, it is like watching a sunset, so effortless and natural, yet so perfect and flawless. However if we get overly attached to something, a constant awareness of where the sun is in the sky will dictate our lives, and just before it parts, we will be torn. Some goodbyes are filled with smiles, tears and coloured clouds, others with broken hearts, rain and sleepless nights. But no matter how or when the sun sets, the sun will always rise
Photo by Enzo Cremers (12P2)
Art by Kristen Wong (13r2)
)
Watching ice floes on a February morning Rita Chun (12G2)
Something broke them apart. Unfortunate, because they tried so hard to freeze— Someone ripping tissues out of a carefully-folded pile. It’s a cycle, you see: The river freezes and cracks and freezes over. For a while, the water expands, rigidly turgid— Then shrivels back into water. Unfortunate, because it tried so hard to freeze. Hard work, hard shell: gone. But when you think about a river, Do you think of a frozen plain, too? No. A river is a body gently running, Pushing boats and running under foot bridges. Letting things pass. The winter is long and tiring, But it ends, like all things. Warmth eventually finds the river to dissolve its ice. Boats lift their sails again. And laughing crowds of people go places, the river pushing them along. Letting things pass. The river, reborn, streams by the crowded boats, Pouring in between the gaps of hull against hull, Looking up at the faces of the people. With all of the ice gone, And with it finally being clear, the river is able to show people Their rippling reflections.
A Bird’s Story Catarina Correa (07B1)
‘ U n t i l y o u s p r e a d y o u r w i n g s , y o u ’ l l h a v e n o i d e a h o w f a r y o u c a n f l y. ’ ~ Napoleon Bonaparte.
It was a cold, windy day. The wind was howling and the dry, crinkled redand-orange autumn leaves were swirling in the wind. Light snow started to fall and I felt snowflakes brush against my feathers. It was the first snow of the year. I soared towards the blue and almost cloudless sky thinking what a wonderful start of winter it was. I was gliding through the air as I thought wonderful thoughts. Little did I know the sky was turning dark, the clouds gathered and the wind picked up as I was blown off course. All I remembered was that there was a huge gust of wind, and I crashed into something that I thought was a tree, then I blacked out. I gasped. One of my wings seemed to be broken, and my whole body was aching. I sputtered, and let out a shrill cry of pain. I slowly turned my head and looked around. I was on some sort of ledge. I gradually got up and looked around, wondering where I was. Just then, I felt some eyes on me. It was a human. ‘Oh, no.’ I thought.‘My friends have warned me of these horrible creatures. They are known to kill birds, especially ducks and chickens.’ A horrible thought suddenly occurred to me. I must no longer be in the woods, I must be on a human’s house, on the windowsill probably. I panicked, trying to think how I could escape.
Stephanie Yu (12G1)
The human stared at me for a while and I shut my eyes. I tried to look as pitiful as possible, but it wasn’t hard as I was intimidated by the human. I was scared and shivering from the cold. I watched as the human’s gaze on me softened, probably realizing I was hurt, and taking pity on me. ‘Aww… you poor little bird. Come inside and I will help you get better.’ I chirped and and nodded gratefully to the human. She lifted me up and carried me through her window. She laid a soft material on the ground and placed me on it. I lay there for a few moments, shaking even though I was covered in a fluffy warm blanket, and let the excruciating pain of my wing swallow me up into a deep sleep. A few weeks later, My wings were healed and I felt a lot better. The human was extremely nice and I enjoyed her company very much. But everyday I gazed out the window and watched as the feathery white snowflakes swirl in the winter wind, wishing that I was gliding with them, soaring in the beautiful winter sky, wanting to be free once more. But I realised, I could be free again, I just didn’t have the confidence and believe in myself. I stood on the windowsill, gazing out at the beautiful scenery, at the snow covered roofs, the frozen cars and the warm glow of the fireplace in homes. Silently, I nudged open the window with my beak and decided —
All I had to do was so a r. .
.
Stephanie Yu 12G1
Kalysha Wong (11P1)
)
咖啡牛奶 美式咖啡的苦涩在口中散开。
不如，偶尔
我就着堆积的功课本，
给生活的咖啡来上一杯牛奶。
将其吞咽，
空白，
仿佛吞下了一剂吗啡。
给自己一段时间思考。 呼吸，
日历上的最后期限，
放下皱眉，深入睡眠。
犹如死亡通牒叫人难以入睡。
一觉醒来，
它将我吞噬，
世界不像想象的那样暗无天日。
拽入无止境的深渊， 请为苦涩的咖啡加上一杯牛奶。 其实，
在水乳交融中，
一切的绝望也不过是洪水猛兽，
为涩口的苦味，
是恐惧叠加下的幻觉。
添上一丝甜味。
但却感觉异常真实。
Elaine Hua 华舒颐 (12R1)
Photo by Enzo Cremers, 12P2
Wang On Yuen (12P1)
Soar Alysa Wang (11B2)
Soar. A verb, Referring to the act of tearing another down To fulfill one’s selfish dreams of ascension. --Poison drips from your talons. A smirk spreads across ebony cheeks As your brilliant wings circle and suffocate, Sending us hurtling into nothingness. Waves of panic jolt through my fragile frame. Your grip falters, and I am forced To hold my own against the harsh and the bitter. You let go, but not before leaving that infamous Mark of death, releasing a torrent of crimson. Your gaze holds no remorse as you watch. I lay my back upon the dampened earth, Vision blurring with the blazing glare of sun. My last image is of your soar. Feathers caught aflame. A wild star, shooting And climbing with a magnificent grace. But you had inflict such a devastating cruelty. And for what cause? I cannot fathom. Both born from the very same: mother-nature. Yet somehow you emerge, and you destroy, And our brotherhood crumbles in your warpath.
Watching
by Jocelyn Cheng (11R2)
She watched it watching her. From outside the rain dusted window. Her eyes studied it carefully, hoping to find an ounce of life, but it was all but a fog of grey. Its presence did not faze her. On the contrary, she could not imagine a life without it. It had been years since it showed up, but its presence grew exponentially explicit from the moment she acknowledged it. Their first encounter was in middle school, she was scrawling a timed essay when suddenly she was acutely aware of her work; How heavy her pen weighed, how tightly her hand gripped it, how messy her writing had gotten. So, she wrote and rewrote, wrote and rewrote, wrote and rewrote, yet when the period was over, she had only finished half the piece. The teacher came over to collect her work, but she couldn’t hand it over. She would rather have him fail her than listen to the critique he had in store. Nevertheless, he grabbed the pages, shaking his head disapprovingly. That was when she saw it. A wispy figure, only barely within her peripheral vision.
From that moment on, it was always around. To gently remind that her that her best was not enough; To keep her awake because how can she rest when there was more time to put in; To stop her from relaxing even when everything had been completed because there’s always more to do. Those around told her this was not the way to live. That there was more to life beyond work. But how could she see that when she was blinded by the comfort of perfection. She watched it watching her. From outside the rain dusted window. Her eyes studied it carefully, hoping to find an ounce of life, but it was all but a husk of herself, empty and desperate. She looked tired, eyes dark, skin pale, limbs frail. And honestly, she felt it too. Hidden under the layers of quixotic expectations, was insecurity and vulnerability. She was so engrossed in earning the people’s validation that she’d forgotten to care for herself; to love herself; to respect herself. And maybe, that was all she needed in order to soar.
Photo by Enzo Cremers (12P2)
光
Joyce Jiang (12P1)
我很庆幸我在成长的道路上遇见了一些很温暖的偶像… 他们都陪伴我度过了最最难熬的时刻。他们有的有很大的污 点，有的在别人眼里并不完美，但他们都有一个共同的特 点：就是永远记得自己的初心是什么——在光怪陆离的娱乐 圈里坚持用他们最真挚的作品安抚一颗颗年轻却彷徨的心。 —— 当然，这里面也包括了我。 他们曾扮演，也会一直扮演着我生命中信仰的角色… 让我在无数次失望后告诉自己，被我当作信仰的人儿们也都 曾经历过， 而这就是一种莫大的安慰。 所以在我心中啊，他们是最合格的偶像。 也多亏他们，我还没有长成太坏的样子，我还没有放弃善 良，还在努力变得勇敢… 在这个讨厌的世界里，有他们存在…虽然并不会变成天堂… 但至少会美好那么一点… 有生之年，有幸遇见
Colin Huang (13B2)
Cindy Lim (12Y1)
Bird Adele Li (07P2) There are days and there are years where I am an astronaut without a helmet waiting in fear for death to claim me in space. Or when I am a fool flying too close to the sun too close to the people too close to everyone. Or when I am drowning and waiting in agony for death to come back Or when I am flying with wings made of wax ready to melt away and burn ; just for a bit before it, too loses its fire So what is ‘lost’? is ‘lost’ being trapped?
is ‘lost’ being gone? is ‘lost’ not knowing what will happen? or is ‘lost’ happiness? Is it wrong for me to find sadness as a refuge? because it’s a lot easier to be lost. to be sad. what’s sad, anyway? one thing I know, is that ‘happy’ is tiring. Sadness is always welcoming me back with open arms to join it once again. happiness is short tempered. it pushes me away so I am afraid to get too close. I am a wingless bird. I either soar or I fall back to ‘lost’ and back to sadness.
我的水杯 Christy Tang 汤淑棋 (12P2)
昨天我的保温杯杯内起了锈纹，成功退休。 想起关于这个水瓶的故事 —— 陪伴了我也有一整年了吧，也有了感情，和我哪儿哪儿都 去过了，也算是个爱旅游的水杯。 它在任上的期间，有好几次我都以为它被我丢了，我每次 都先是不可控的小失落，然后安慰自己终于可以再买一个 了。 但它好像也是心灵感应到了主人的呼唤，不知道怎样就又 经常奇迹般的出现了。 而我，得而复失，惊喜又庆幸，虽然嘴上还傲娇地常常喊 着：“哎呀，新婚计划泡汤了。” 然后昨儿个我突然发现，这水喝着喝着怎么味道就不一样 了，打一开始我不曾怀疑过这水杯，但结果发现真的是水 杯起锈了的问题。 嘛，这次是真的要换水杯了。新水杯已经在路上，但我这 内心复杂的情感又能马上消失吗？ 说了这么多水杯，我想，也许爱情也是这样。 那么成长又何尝不是？
Ian Choi (13Y1)
\ A Thousand
By Tanya W
The day I turned seven, my mother took me to the hospital.
The nurse led us through countless corridors to a private ward. Mum stepped in and I reluctantly followed suit, complaining about the lack of presents today. Grandpa lay on a white bed, a horrifying tube stuck into his arm. I angrily reached to tear the tube away, but mum pulled my arm away gently. “No, Chelsea,” she whispered, voice choked. “You can’t take his IV away.” “What’s that?” I asked, confused, but mum didn’t reply, walking to Grandpa’s side. Grandpa slowly turned his head towards mum and I ran to his side delightedly. “Grandpa! I bought a new puzzle yesterday. Can you please help me?” Grandpa didn’t move or respond. His eyes darted to me sadly. I frowned. Why can’t he move? What is going on? This is boring. “Can’t you play with me?” “Chelsea, stop.” Dad gently pushed me to the side, locking eyes with mum, communicating wordlessly with her. Mum looked down, rummaging around her bag for something. I fiddled with my fingers, bored. Later, mum passed me a stack of origami papers. “You can play with this,” she told me. I stared at the origami paper. “I don’t know how to play with that,” I grumbled. “Yes, you do,” Dad said firmly. “Here. I’ll teach you how to fold a paper crane.” Mum shot him a grateful look.
Paper Cranes/
a Wan (08P2)
He taught me how to fold a paper crane as I, frustrated, spent half the stack of origami papers until I finally folded an ugly, creased paper crane. “That’s nice,” mum complimented me. “Why don’t you give it to Grandpa?” I put it on his bedside table, expecting him to smile at me and tell me what a good girl I was. Instead, he lay frozen in place, his hands twitching towards mum’s left hand. Using a trembling finger, he wrote the Chinese character hao onto mum’s palm, meaning good. She closed her eyes. Just at that moment, Aunty Lily, Aunty Chiara, Uncle Henry and Grandma rushed in. The moment Aunty Chiara saw Grandpa’s motionless, still form on the bed and the green bouncing line on the screen next to Grandpa, she broke into tears. Aunty Lily, who was holding little Nathan and Cory’s hands, pressed her lips together. “Chiara,” she said warningly. “The children.” Aunty Chiara was gasping, her face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” she wept. “I just...I can’t stay here.” She sprinted out the door, Uncle Henry following. The door slammed behind them. I pressed my ear to the door curiously, listening. The words ‘cancer’ and ‘a few days left’ floated toward me. I didn’t understand. What was this ‘cancer’? I knew my little brother was a Cancer, Dad a Leo and mum a Scorpion. I frowned and turned back to folding my paper cranes. Photo By Stephanie Yu (12G1)
We spent the whole morning at the hospital. I folded more paper cranes, placing them beside Grandpa, who appeared to have become mute. I yearned to leave; everything was so boring. Dad gave me his iPad to play with. I chose a game, but understood nothing; annoyed and upset, I threw the iPad to the ground, cracking the screen. To my shock, mum didn’t scold me or scream at me; she glanced blindly at the iPad, walked over, picked it up and flung it at the wall opposite her with a cry. Dad didn’t pick it up. At last, Dad and I left for my ballet class. I was relieved that I could get out of the stuffy private ward. Halfway through my barre-work, Dad knocked on the door of the studio. Ms Irina opened it. Then she told me to please hurry up and go pack my bag and leave with Dad. “Where am I going?” I moaned. “Hospital.” I complained that I didn’t want to go, but Dad took my wrist in an iron hold and dragged me out and into the car. Dad drove to the hospital, and when we were parking, he spoke, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Chelsea. I have something to tell you.” I froze. Suddenly, somehow, I knew what had happened. I didn’t understand why or how I did, but I knew it had happened, and I had known it was going to happen for a long while, carrying that knowledge in my heart. It just hadn’t seemed real. “No.” I clenched my fists. “No, daddy, no. Don’t say it. It’s not true. No, daddy, please!”
“Grandpa is dead.” Dad said bluntly.
I screamed - it was a scream of denial and horror, a scream that it couldn’t possibly be true, a scream that I knew it was true, it is true, and there is nothing I can do to change it. I screamed and screamed, each scream rising higher and higher, crying as I did so. I yanked my seatbelt out, trying to break the child lock on the car door open to no avail. “Let me out,” I panted. “Let me out!”
The second he opened the door, I was sprinting, running faster than ever before. I opened the door of the ward, my screams reduced to sobs. I fell to my knees by the bed, grabbing Grandpa’s icy hands. I cried, knowing that everyone was watching and crying too, but I didn’t care. It was the first time I had ever seen mum cry. I was the only child in the room who knew what had happened. Nathan, Cory and my little brother tugged at Aunty Chiara and mum’s hands, asking, “where did Grandpa go?”
Grandma sat by the window, silent tears streaking her weary face.
And then I knew. I had made the worst mistake of my life, and I would never make it again. The clock was already ticking faster than I could stand, so I put my hand over her hand, a sudden determination gripping me. I would look after Grandma until the very last second of her life. After the cremation, I looked up at the blue sky. And just then, I thought I saw a thousand paper cranes soar into the air, flying towards the golden sun. I would soar with them.
That feeling of the blood bank caught on fire. Like Hades world, This speed demon’s atmosphere is made of toenails That drip fat across my lap. That’s what it likes about it.
I’m in love with your honour And I melt upwards Licking everything that’s made up. I taste jesus. I reach a salvation of organs and honey shiny worms. Can’t tell if I’m human or King of the world. How have I never felt so dead. Folding at the hips, Apollo presses its chest to its knees, And its bow bearing sister is the toenail stuck in my throat, Grinding my gullet into bean soup.
Speed Demon
In this paradise city, I eat the lake you gifted me and I hear it chew through my soggy kidney. The witch cursed it.
Shivahn Garvie (12G1)
Azaleas salt my new lawn, So I dance a dance called America on top of their plastic petals. I said I just don’t care about grass, So the viking sent to eat my jade throne returned with your head in my lap. Maybe it isn’t the killer’s fault Maybe there are vampires in his cells and centaurs in his sinus. It’s so easy to be a killer. One that’s Duller than milk, Sharper than the coyote's skin. The paradise city eats me like I ate the lake, But there’s just something about you. I’ve been sleeping in a stable Where time’s a raker. And I’ll wrap you up.
Enzo Cremers (12P2)
I’m so quick.
Song Playlist
1 5 9
3
2 6 10
13
7 11
14
playlist 1 higher ground - skaar
4
2 direction - shoffy 3 fate - claire ernst 4 good as gold - moon taxi 5 waste of time - lostboycrow 6 high school - umi
8
7
7 firefly - mura masa ft nao 8 pleaser - wallows 9 tomorrow tonight - loote 10 antisocial socialites - kyan palmer
11 another lifetime - nao 12 do u wrong - leven kali ft syd
12
13 make it out alive - nao 14 timebomb - walk the moon 15 honesty - pink sweats
15
playlist curated by stephanie yu 12g1
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