Immortal Embrace

bring me the sunset in a cup
filled with time's eternal flame

keep forevermore
by my bedside
touch every night
by moonbeams and starlights

when the sunset no longer shines
when it cease to exist
an empty cup I will savior
your love forever locked inside
an immortal embrace


Poefusion #16
The first line ("bring me the sunset in a cup") is by Emily Dickinson.

Hello

sitting at a new cafe
muffin crumbs in their paper boxes
tables side by side
two soda mugs
the day before summer ended

you stood up
your back toward me
stretched your arms like a cheerleader
the sun all around you

I stared forgetting to blink
then you turned around
smiled
a friendly nod my way
as you walked away

in the middle of a rain storm
I sat on the front steps
watching the rain dripping down
onto the cracked pavement
on my feet
flip-flops in green and gold
against the streaks of rain
I saw you

your bike shiny in the moonlight
your yellow boots a neon glow
your favorite shirt soak
a silly grin on your vibrant face
I stood up
meeting you at the gate
you said hello

Exile

across the even horizon
where the sky touches earth
a girl swims around the moon

her apricot face hides in the shadows
covered in violets and vines
her tail thrashing against the waves
small circular sparkles
in the deep emerald ocean

a song keeps repeating
ascending deep from within
suffocated sorrows in hushed tones
carry away by the ocean of night
dissolve by the day's rays

she follows the moonlight
to where she will soon forget
her love exiled in the land of men


See the image that inspired this at Monday Mural.

Maybe they know

the petals transmuted
their colors fading
becoming white ashes
falling quietly into the rain
reflected in reverse
their sorrowfulness
maybe they know
I'm missing you


One Single Impression

Musings

3:29 am
sitting here
waiting for some insipid thoughts
to spill out of my head
3:30 am
nothing to surprise these empty pages
perfect in their crispy white space
3:31 am
left in this hush state
time almost seem motionless
tranquil in this dull silence
3:33 am
out from these empty pages
shouts of vaguely specified innuendoes
I take them in like muggers
as they crawl out
and beat the crap out of me
taking all my persuasions
eventually landing them onto the pages
3:35 am
so here they sit
a tree of words
read them as you wish
what will they provoke
as they race across your mind
settling into the comfort zone
tuck between the cushions of doubt
do they seek your mortal thoughts
and if they concede any meanings at all
will you ask why
if anyone ask where they came from
do not send them here
these words will cease to exist
as they unruffled and read

Dream A Little Dream

my beating heart splinter
molding into distractions
votive fragments of longings
punctuate by a shiver down my back
blending into a little dream of you


Friday 5: splinter, distractions, molder, votive, punctuate

Sleepless Sleeping Beauty

Reflected in the dusty mirror, Neola could see her weary face, clouded in sorrows and fading lines. Her golden brown eyes trace her image up and down. She stretch her tired hand up to her face, feeling the rough texture. Is that really her? Is that the face she has been living with? She turns away, unable to look at herself any longer.

Instead she turn her view to her antiquated home where almost everything are covered in dust. Mildews on her dresser, cobwebs between the doors, around the ceilings, and dirt layered on the cobbled stone walls and floors. It has been many years since she was first brought out here in this remote place with only few of her servants accompanying her. The years had passed so quickly, she could barely remembered what she did.

She parts the faded curtains to see the sun peeking out of the horizon. She yawns, then sighs as her lips turn to a frown. Another day ends but what will tomorrow bring but another disappointing arrow through her lonely heart?

Neola lay back down in her warm bed, pulling the sheets up to her chest, ready to sleep another day away. She closes her sleepy eyes but her mind continued to stay awake. Underneath her dark eyelids, there was peace. Only sleep.

She had spent many restless nights walking the dark halls exhausted but wide awake. Everyone around her were in various stages of sleep, some even laying on the floor, eyes half closed as if to remind her that the world had forgotten them. They will not be tending to her needs anymore. Neola makes sure they are comfort even as their body resisted the urge to stay awake. Often she would cover them in blankets whenever the nights gets too cold. The wind often sweeps through the thinning walls like sandstorms. Even the days blended together as if they too had forgotten themselves.

She wakes up a moment later but doesn't know why. She check the sky and saw the sun had settled into darkness. The moon hides behind sycamore trees. She watches the fading sparkles that framed the dark sky. Once she had made a wish on one of those tiny dots on a very cold night much like tonight. It wasn't anything too hard to forfill but her wish had gone unanswered.

Should she get dress? She started to call out her chambermaid's name but stop when she realized she would not come to her. Even if she did, she would not have the energy to help her. Neola falls to her knees, sadden by the thought.

If no one had come in the hundred years that she had waited, what are the chances they would come now? She sob into her silk gown, too tired to even think. The tears came down so often and yet they still refused to leave her. Another hundred years, what would it matter?

She had pictured so many times what she would say or do if someone did come but those images had long since dissipated in the clouds. She has no more energy for dreaming, not every daydreams.

By the time Neola stopped crying, morning has come. She lift her head up to a splash of sunlight, almost blinding her. Pressing her hands on the window sill to steady herself, she pulls herself up and wipes the last tears off her cheeks.

Something is out there. She can see a blue blur moving, coming near. She try to focus her eyes but the bright sunlight flare out her view. She shade her eyes with her hand but only saw the blurry blue coming closer and closer. Then her heart almost burst out of her skin when she realized what it was.

She runs around the castle, almost skipping, shouting for everyone to wake up. Then she saw what she was wearing and race to back to her room. She will wear her favorite dress, the one with the blue laces and white bows, that always makes her feel the most beautiful. Excitement jump around in her mind. The day has come! It has finally come! One hundred years wasn't such a long way. No, not long at all.


3WW: Picture, Reflected, Stop

Reflected Self

I know this much, my place
my world, bare naked
always open to rejections
but nevertheless
I live to hope

can you, would you
casually remember to inquire
how I am doing
can you see
from the other side of a mirror
an old version of me
reflected in you?

not knowing was
your excuse. you tore your own soul-
turned it into scraps
pieces that can not, would not
fit together anymore

my heart burnt with bitter tears
at the thought of you
lost in someone else's arms
bearing not a single part of yourself
or me

someday you'd wake up
and realize what part of you existed
then you will see
I am still inside you
hoping, waiting
for you


Patchwork Poetry

Thanks to these poets for letting me borrow their lines: Lirone, Jillypoet, Mariacristina, Gautami and Writerwoman.

Somewhere

somewhere on a train platform
after too many steps in the wrong direction
I search for unfamiliar stains

A day so ordinary

he sits across from me
calmly as can be, all polite
bathe in the warm sunlight
his face shinning so bright, eyes down
his skin all golden brown
left hand eagerly holds a book
his mind completely hook
all that is in the book, he devour
his right hand with no doubt
lightly scratch about his jaw
mesmerize and in awe
his fingers draw another page
his blue eyes so engage
I stare with no rage and wonder
what can he be under
then he seem to ponder, looks up
I dive behind my cup
gingerly he picks up the jar
pause then set it down ajar
not seeing how far the table
is but still he was able
wobbling the table, he shook
as he closes the book
his smile like a crook, arsenious
not quite notorious
nothing that's callous toward me
with a squeeze of my knee
he moves closer to me, my lips
enrapture on moon trips
dancing on a ship in midair
for a moment we share
tenderness so rare, so divine
his lips merging with mine
our arms intertwine, how unfair
he falls back into his chair
engross unaware, opens book
forgets being unhook
I sit all shook in reverie
nibbling a berry
a day so ordinary, see
he won't admit to me
how much he loves me, he loves me


Poefusion Prompt

Wandering

what would it matter what road I take
many hours I have wasted following this trail
I need to be outside, if not for a moment's break
then for the sake of being less stale

I have no way of knowing myself,
random thoughts leap into my head
but more and more of me wish to leave the shelf
I don't care where my feet tread

anywhere with a solid ground I will walk
and if you find me hopelessly wandering around
don't try to stop me for a talk
even if my face wears a permanent frown

I wish I can explain how I am
or why I am in this confusing state
if only my mind give a damn
and give it to me straight

but what the heck
I'll take any path that takes me somewhere
even if I end up a wreck
wandering the world alone without cab fare

a question that keeps asking
but no answer will decree
my mind will keep masking
there it goes again wandering off without me

Days of blue

the sound of another morning
overflow the air
the eager sun sneaks in bits of light
through the window
through the closed curtains
brightening parts of my world
I pull the sheets over my head
longing to lose the day
I dream

in the dark recess of my mind
a storm arrives in winter hues
reminding me of many things prolong
yesterday's melancholy song
hidden away underneath ordinary days
leftover promises
lost chances
I pursue them
in dreams

seasons unfolds onto each other
the wind rush in without an apology
and leaves without a goodbye
flowers throw their fragrance around
echoes of voices from afar
drifting in between the days
asleep but half awake
pulling a pillow over my head
I continue to dream

in an empty theater
I watch movies surrounded by cardboard figures
laughing at obtuse jokes
my voice diminishing through the air
still I dream

my eyes shut tight
time unmoving
waiting to bid adieu
these lonely days of blue
without you

The Question

he slurs his words
mozzled in thought
a caprussule full of hazy maze
cacks ripple through his heart
his lips glureon together
but out blurt the question
jumbled up in its meaning
she stares eyes wide in bedevilment
he skrey around with his bended knee
closer to her ears
posing the question again
this time the words formed their meaning
she screams in fright
then collapse onto the floor
without an answer for him


Friday 5: caprussule, mozzle, cack, skrey, glureon

Another day

spring came but seem to linger
it's not waiting and yet
it's not hoping
it's moving and yet
it stays still
on sunny days
it would chase my thoughts away
just to make it another dull day

Poem In Your Pocket Day

For more information about Poem In Your Pocket, go to Poets.org This poem is from one of my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson. I think this is the first poem that I ever read which introduced me to poetry. I didn't quite understand it when I first read it but the first line had always stayed with me. There seem to be more than one version of this poem but I like this version the best. Here's the poem:

I'm Nobody!
by Emily Dickinson

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

The madness of nothing

my mind torn asunder
barely touching on any real cognition
evading thoughts
visible in every open syllable
I fumble through
hoping for reprieve
but will I soon find myself
in the second stage of disbelief?


3WW: Touching, Visible, Stage

Luminous

waves of luminous color lights
bind me in your unyielding spanish rhyme
imbue all these hallow spaces
for I dwell in all the wrong places


One Single Impression

Our Muse

a small black spot carefully engrafted
between your ear and your cheek
creating a small road
divided by a narrow patch of skin
ever so gently caress by your smooth
fingers laced with a trace of warmth
graceful in their movement
hair grazing your neck
intertwining onto your fingertips
jokingly teasing us
kiwi colored teardrop dangles from your ear
longings of our hungry hearts
muted desires
no more realistic then before
our hands write these verses
pocketed inside dreams
quilted from a million other dreams
random expressions of foolishness
surrounds our smiles
tousle together in our
urge to convey
valentines that makes our heart aches
washed away into bits and pieces of
xerox copied love notes
you leave us, our muse
zealous poets with endless words


Poefusion ABC poems

In Dreams

she sleeps upon
dreams of dreams

written on scrap papers
a wish repeating
becoming a thousand more

her absent beloved
his familiar face
eyes watered with skyblue tears
voice soothingly calling her name
like silent wind chimes

together
they float on a moon cloud
his kiss soft as cotton
upon her windswept lips
his fingers brush away her tears
falling
like double rainbows down her cheeks
a bittersweet union

he takes flight
towards the sky
his smile unrelenting
a massive magnificent light
breaking into million bits of silver stars
willingly embed themselves
into the sky of night

she sleeps in dreams
night after night


Monday Mural

A Stranger

she walks through the hollow exits
noiseless pools of the city
dipped in orange and gray
down the unknown streets
monochrome faces stalk the walls
creatures small and divine
crawl the wet pavement
no fears hovering nearby
her eyes wander from one space to another
lips twist to a half smile
she hears her name taking flight
settling over her
soon at her final destination
echoes of sweet hellos greeted her
planting herself into a green plastic chair
she slowly complete her smile


Writers Island

Blog Name

You may have noticed the header name has been change from Just Write to Just Writing Words, which actually makes more sense since people kept referring to this site as Just Just Writing Words. Either one is fine with me but I thought I should just change it to match the link.

"I dwell in possibility..."
Emily Dickinson

Two Polaroids

your sun brown eyes
squirting behind
bits of dark hair
dry brittle salty lips
revealing a bashful smile
aluminum foil memory
wrapped in blurry effigy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

slick black hair
immaculate smile
a vague look of coolness
concealed in false sincerity
a skunk that once crawled
from underneath brittle earth
always lost in brilliant calmness


Friday 5: brittle, aluminum foil, Polaroid, skunk, salt

Six Seconds

I saw a girl with dovetail butterfly wings
standing amidst the human debris

time tenderly drifted by
nearly standing still
silence fell upon the crowd

through the mass of sullen faces
I met her glance and she too mine

she radiated among the dull coats
glowing even without the winter sun in the sky

as I walked passed her
our fingertips brushed against each other

I felt my heart melted into her turquoise eyes
reversing everything inside of me
I was spinning- hard and fast-

unknowingly
she seeped in

in every pore and every nerve
in every tiny unbound corner of my mind

it lasted only six seconds
but she left me yearning
dreaming

of a dreamer’s words, memories
of relenting youth

of many unfulfilled desires
that maybe just maybe are still worth chasing after

the light turned red then
everything started to move faster
the noise blasted through the silence

in a wave of white smoke
she was gone

taking with her all my sudden aspirations

bending my mind to the gray sidewalk
I shied away
hiding in my black coat
as the heavy sky began to released its weary spirit


Patchwork Poetry. The lines in blue are from these wonderful poets: Gautami, Lirone, Mariacristina, Paisley, and Writerwoman. Thanks for letting me borrow your words.

Bloom

yellow flowers bloom
against the coldness of spring
sunshine surrounds me


April's Pensieve Poetic License challenge

You must remember this

Ariane sits alone in the dark theatre, a bottle of water in one hand, a bag of chips in the other, waiting for the screen to light up. The sound of the film projector starting, turned her thoughts to the weekends she used to spend watching movies with her father. She could still feel his rough hand holding her small one as they waited in line for tickets, his face full of excitement exactly mirroring hers. He would let her hold the ticket stubs which he always said were leftover gold stardust from the silver screen, magical dust that can take her to any place she desires. As the giant title splashes across the screen, Ariane let out a chuckle remembering the funny, green rimmed eyeglasses he used to wear, the huge cup of orange soda they loved sharing and the stale popcorn that somehow still tasted good all the while their eyes stayed glued to the screen. Tonight, on the tenth anniversary of her father's passing, Ariane, still mesmerized by the black and white pictures, could not help but spill salty tears that fell onto the ticket stub in her lap causing it to glow like the sun.


3WW: funny, remember, theatre

Short Digits

thirsty tender yellow skin
peeling away like paper
frequently adorn
with paper cuts
blemishes
palms entwine in curvy crinkle lines
bare fingernails in round moons
sometimes nibble off by nerves
knuckles bend increasingly
counterbalancing
short digits
constantly in motion
vulnerably delicate
please no heavy lifting


Poefusion #8

Wishing

in his small world he waits
for a stranger to come
one filled with the sweetest touch
to find his affection
to find he still cares

days follow nights
nights follow days
haunting each other
in bittersweet heartaches

the days
he spent planting his desires
deep into the dry earth
scattering tiny seeds

the nights
he spent squandering
in self sorrows
pulling apart his heart
til it bleeds
weakening with fearful uncertainties

still he willingly waits
as days turn into weeks
weeks into months

his body soiled in despair
cries sour tears
dusting the ground
where he had laid the seeds

in the early hours of dawn
roots burst out of the ground
stretching towards the winter sky
its magnificent bark spawn leaves of gold
ascending through the dark clouds

the cold winds release the leaves
dispersing them out of the sky
in sheets of gold
into the arms of a stranger

their warm touch send shivers
of absolute joy throughout her body
opening her heart
momentarily reminding her the happiness
she so desires

she knew then what she needed to do
what she had long wished for
he has to be out there somewhere
she will find him
even if it takes her all eternity

Eternal Rain

april drunk in eternal rain
drenched us in chaos and gray
the wind possesses us in its cold wings
keeping us wandering the streets
looking for bits of blue sky


Cafe Writing

Broken Wing

a broken wing of a butterfly
stranded on a canvas
framed by an ocean


Read the other version here

One Single Impression

Invisible

She lingers in front of the mirror, a repetition of of her own self image spread across the room. Many faucets of youth, so subtlety unimpressed, reflects back in inverse. Then she notice a strange thing - her image seem to be fading. She steps closer to the mirror.

The blurred image of the coat racks can be seen through her body. She turns around to see if anyone is looking at her but no one seem to be aware she was even there. Back to the mirror, her face, almost translucent now, carries a worry look.

She searches around for another mirror and there she stands in front of it but her body continues to disappear before her eyes. Each inch of her is slowly being erase out of existence. And yet she can still feel the sensation of having a body. She reach out to the mirror but could not see her hands. She look down but her body isn't there. She starts to scream but the sound comes out all muffled.

She runs up and down the isles, trying to shake off her nerves but that just makes her more nervous. Every mirror she passes, she can't see herself in them. She can see everyone else's just not hers. She becomes mad with terror. Panic begins to creep into her mind. Will she stay like this forever? Why did this have to happen to her?

She runs to her mother who was browsing in the men's pajama section. She grabs her mother's arm but nothing happens. She try to block her mother's view but each time, her mother ignored her as if she wasn't there. She wave madly, jumping up and down but unable to draw her mother's attention. She tries to pull a pair of pants off the rack to throw at her mother but nothing happens. She starts to scream her mother's first name which she knew her mother always hated it but her words stick in her throat, making her choke and fall to the tiled ground. She couldn't breath, the air seem so thin. But then a piece of hamburger meat escapes her mouth. She look up to see the worry look on her mother's face.

Her mother gather her up and sits her down in the mall's metal chair. She can see her! She try to speak but her mother tells her to be quiet and drink some water, handing her a bottle of Evian.

Now she remember! They're at the mall's cafe, breaking between shopping for her father's birthday present. It must have been a dream. It must be, she thought as she takes a sip of the cool water. She's not invisible. She stare at her hands, fingers painted in blue. She touches the chair, her body and can feel her solid body against it. It was a dream! She sighs with relief. But then panic begins to crawl into her head again as she notice she's not in the mirror behind her mother - only other people's blurry images and her mother's back. But then she laughs as she turns a little to the right to see herself behind her mother.


See the image that inspired this story at Write Stuff's Picture This #7

Blue Wing

the broken wing of a blue butterfly
land just above a pond surrounded by steam
the forest echo with a small creature's cry
streaming through the air like a summer dream

the blue wing begin to flutter like hair
high towards the sky then dip into a still lake
before flying into the white hair of a mare
drinking its share of thirst as of late

the mare merely brush it away without pro-test
on it goes the blue wing seem to create
a will of its own design floating into a mess
of oil paints on a canvas that soon sedate

the blue wing to its surface of colorful scheme
framed only with a single wicker


Prompt from Poefusion using the format, Bout-Rimes, with the words:
The words are:
butterfly, steam, cry, dream
hair, lake, mare, late
test, create, mess, sedate
scheme, wicker

Bout-Rimes is French for "rhymed ends." A bouts- rimes poem is created by one person's making up a list of rhymed words and giving it to another person, who in turn writes the lines that end with those rhymes, in the same order in which they were given.

Rain

I
jumping joys
rain puddles
giggles echoing

II
hidden rain
inside a closed umbrella
dripping down
dry welcome mat

III
ruby lips
wet in the rain
stolen kisses

IV
thunderous rain attacks the sea
small boat hovering
above muddy water

V
bottled rain
fireflies of spring

VI
dry land
invaded by rain
green earth pervades

VII
runners in the rain
laughter spreads
among the wet dwellers

VIII
a love letter received
twenty years later
shrouded in dry rain

IX
a long train ride
on a starless night
rain hides the destination

X
scattered on the cold asphalt
displaced umbrellas
rain continues

XI
temperatures rise
the snow melts
into rain

XII
heavy rain storm
blackouts everywhere
houses float in the streets
warnings came one hour too late

XIII
he writes poems
about rain
but lives in the desert


Poefusion #7

A tale of two broken hearts

She was a pleasant looking woman with dark hair and dark eyes, her skin a milky sheen. Most would call her a natural beauty, many would call her the most beautiful woman in the world. But she wasn't the kind of girl who would just fall in love. No, she wasn't the kind that can be easily persuaded. But she just fell. Madly.

There he was, hair like the desert, eyes like the sea, just standing there waiting for a taxi in his black business suit. She was standing close by, waiting to cross the street. He saw her beautiful face and offered her his taxi, holding out his smooth hand. Without thinking she placed her hand in his and entered the taxi. She was far away before she realized what just happened.

They ended up on the same sidewalk again the next day. He struck up a conversation about the beautiful weather. She smiled at him like a crazed schoolgirl, entertained by her first boy crush. A spark began to glow between them.

A year later, a wedding in the summer heat of July, committed their love to each other. There was no separating them from each other. But one day, a car accident left something that changed his perspective on her.

At the hospital, he tried his best to be the supporting husband. But when he finally saw her face a few weeks later, he could not hide his disappointment. He tried but could not love her anymore. He busied himself with work and often told her he would make time for her but never did. He smiled so sweetly at her each time he apologized, she easily accepted it.

One rainy day, she saw him coming out of a hotel, arms around a buxom blonde. She called his name but he turned away, avoiding her. When she asked about about the blonde, he just shrugged it off and said she was a client. She knew then things had changed between them.

Now, for him to think of her as an equal was an impossible task. When he finally could not ignored her anymore, he took her out to dinner. Over sweet strawberry short cake, he tried to say what he had rehearsed but what came out was completely different.

As he stared at her scar, he could not help himself, blurting out the words that sent sharp pains inside her. To him, her beauty was gone, she was no longer the woman that he loved. He just could not look at her anymore. He didn't want anything to do with her. Vanity had stolen his sympathetic side.

Hurt by his blunt words, she ran out of the restaurant. Back home, eyes full of tears, she made the decision that would changed her whole life. She packed her bags and left for the other side of the world. She promised herself to not let him hurt her anymore. It took awhile to mend her broken heart but his face soon faded from her memory. Her days went pleasantly by after that.

He, on the other hand, had found more sorrow than his heart can contain. His refusal of her love had cheated him of happiness and created a hole in his heart, tarnishing every woman that he ever known or potentially loved. His looks left him older than he was. Lines and spots started to appear, continuing to do so even after he realized how much he loved her. But it was too late, she was gone from his life.

Ten years later, they passed each other on the street. He stopped, amazed by her sudden appearance. But she walked passed him without even a glance his way. She was so beautiful at that moment, so desirable. He started to call out her name but she had already walked too far away.

If she had heard him, would she have stop for an old man wearing a faded shirt? He stood there staring at her beautiful back as she continued to walk farther away, a smile on her face.


Fiction Friday: Describe a time your character gave up; and how it affected them for the rest of their life.

Spring in New York

light drizzles
sprinkle the brick pavements
as I walk the streets
soaking in the rain of people and their fragrances
holding my avocado umbrella
closed in my hand

the smell of gasoline exhumes
from their opened underground caves
drowsing me
in their dreamlike smoke

crowds smother the sidewalks
lightly caressing each other's arms and shoulders
barely stirring
while lining up together
by the silver breakfast cart
the scent of hot coffee
drifting through the air

up above me
tree branches blanket the ceiling
of the wearisome sky
covering the hemisphere
in blue brown trilateral patterns

soon the sun begins to show its yellow head
lighting up store fronts and street vendors
changing the colors of the city

time seem to travel rapidly
everything suddenly moves in lighting speed
the sound of voices spring up with excitement
as the aroma of a new morning
descend upon us


My ode to my hometown, the place where I still live - New York City.
Friday 5: avocado, hemisphere, gasoline, ceiling, brick

Fortune

all your sorrows will vanish
stars will align parallel to your dreams
your fortune will bounce back to you
revealing all your mysterious destinies
the only problem is
you will be lucky in love


Poefusion #6 and 3WW with the words: parallel, bounce, mysterious

Persimmon rubber bands

two pairs of ponytails
held tightly in persimmon rubber bands
caught unguarded in stillness
hear their reverberating laughter
rippling through the silent halls of recollection




Today is the start of National Poetry Month. I will be joining many other writers in the National Poetry Writing Month or NaPoWriMo challenge - write a poem a day for the month of April which equals to 30 poems for 30 days. Any criticism (bad or good) are welcome. This poem follows the theme of hair at Poefusion.