Hold hands

In silence, the palms formed into mountains and sweat into valleys.
Winding uphill, I am a horse tethered to your wooden house.
Where the moon is dry and the horses are docile
A five hundred year old rose
Fold into two moonlights after exposure
Sprinkle on me

Politely executed

Tell me a poem
If you say you love life like you love me
That is undoubtedly a lie
I’m walking down your pale skin under your blood vessels
Coaxing you that everything will be fine
Tell me goodbye
As the only survivor in the accident
You insist you are the winner
A winner
You always have such a terrible roulette heart
Shallow and weak breathing in the sun
You hurt yourself with a sharp knife
I will get everything I want
You shout
And think that he is omnipotent
Tell me a wish
Not an expected answer
This eagerness should not be called love

about me

My body dissolves in the rain
Leaving only a fiery heart
The heart closes its eyes
Don’t look at the blurry world
Human beings are mainly composed of two parts:
Unnecessary things and meaningless things
There are even people who pray to God
Give him a pair of wings
God waved his hand for a while
Rain divided into two parts


He wanted to roar, something stuck in his throat
Entangled with flesh and blood
He had to vomit often, as a polite reply

Cowardly, it finally turned into a pool of water, invading the yellow land
I guess I am a fish soaked, or not

His look dimmed with the flow of time
The taboo stuck in the throat emits a foul smell

He tells lies every day
From morning to noon, from noon to night

He used husky to build a dream for me
For me to find in the rotten flower

Looking for his remaining track, everything that could not be caught was drained away
Weak breathing left: “Do n’t be deceived by me,
Don’t be deceived by me. “

Becoming the past

Autumn says goodbye to the season with fallen leaves
How do I say goodbye to the past
And sadness in a painful city
Walk along the other side of the sun
Forgot you are still at the end of time

No one looked at me
Read yesterday’s hope
Is becoming an affair, never
In this season of illness
A person, with deep and shallow memories
Passing the dawn quietly

Maybe I should believe,
It was just a grain of sand blown into my eyes by the wind
Become the wettest part of my body
Maybe, just every moment I pass by
As soon as I turn around, I will see you beside me
You believe my fairy tale about poetry and love
Looking at Huang Chun hanging on the treetop


Did you reach out
You can catch the like without color
It floats around and covers my scarred hand
Something flirty and shapeless
As the wind drifts away
The finely crushed Mai Jing kisses a star of his size
They surround me
Drown me gently in praise


It perches on a branch
Conceived the most beautiful melody
But there is more than one nightingale in the world
More than a beautiful voice
Suddenly thought
Why not cut off your partner’s tongue
Let this noisy forest
Lonely for it
Old enemies
Have been obsessed with it
The world becomes your ban
Blood flows through the stage
Only one kind of beauty exists
This song is so beautiful
Also creepy

Street light and candlelight

Silent clothing,
The street lamp outside the window bowed its head,
The candlelight in the window shook brightly,
Who are you waiting for?
An airplane glides over the air,
The wind brought news of who left,
The candle went out,
The street light is still on.
The candlelight said to the street lamp,
Your waiting is meaningless.
The street lamp said to the candlelight,
I just like the feeling of waiting.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (A Hunger Games Novel)

Ambition will fuel him.
Competition will drive him.
But power has its price.

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capitol, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He’s been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined — every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute . . . and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.