Friday, July 29, 2011


I know of a place where you and I
will be happier.
A place where no lingering after-images
of yesteryears will haunt us.
A place where we could belong
but not together.

We will find company of each other’s sorts.
People who would understand your visions
and love my art.
Our lonely quest for solitude will end
Our afflicted selves will mend.

I know of a place where you and I
will be sincere.
A place where no affections are affectations
for the unfortunates who reach for us.
A place where we could love everyone
but not each other.

We will find solace for our souls.
Lovers who would ease your boredom
and soothe my woes.
Our detached sensitivities pacified
Our frustrations nullified.

All that we seek we will find
in this place of mine.

But I would rather have you with me.
Such estrangement will kill me eventually
 for I'll be happy yet empty.
This is how lovely I find you
how badly I'll miss you.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Dear me,

Why can't you just forget? Why can't you simply be satisfied with what you're doing right now? Do you really believe you would be happier otherwise? Why do you feel thwarted? As if the choice you made weren't entirely yours?

It is YOUR own fault after all. Nobody else's. You were given a chance. As slight and condescending a chance it may be but it was there. You cowered and gave in. If you truly had wanted what you thought you wanted you would've gone through with it. No matter the consequences.

I am at a loss. I can't be happy like this. To be happy I need to want to be happy. I need to be content. This is a lost cause.

Money. If we've had had the money all this won't be a problem.

But what of fate? and Destiny? All is in His palms. All is His doing. All is the best for you. All is good for you.

Oh, insolence. Oh, ingratitude. Leave me be. Let me be at peace!

And you still think all this is but a detour. A trial. A period for growth and maturity. A test. So you may be more patient.

All will fade. All will fall into atrophy. Your vague 'zeal' is but a mirage of youth. Not even a good youth I would say.

Carelessness. Fucking carelessness.

This is apathy.

This is the pit.

This is atrophy.

Just keep it together.

Yours sincerely,

Monday, July 18, 2011


'When I don't have you
I have nobody.'
This sadly universal circumstance
haunting thousands
of lonely people in this world.
They sit in the dark at 3a.m.
in beds, streets, by windows
staring at nothing all the while
having visions of warmth, loves,
or both.
Their far-away eyes
reflecting their far-away lives.

Like lone wolves they're
hungered and slightly deranged.
A stillness. A peace and quiet
that linger about their rounded shoulders,
hung heads, downcast sleepless eyes.
But they weren't peaceful at all.
Memory of senses like a caress of the cheek,
a whiff of cologne, an unmet passing glance,
or whisperings of dying laughter;
clawed at them.
Relentless and unforgiving.
So they sat unmoving.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The Poet.

Bereaved by whatever tragic happenings
that plagues his waking and dead hours
the poet clings to what he's burned in his heart
be it ancient or recent, always
it is Love.

What he harbours in his sighs
he fashions prose and rhyme
to ease his suffering.
What poison that dulls his heart
he savours the sweetness.

The poet cherishes his own weakness
thinking his fragility beautiful
not realizing his foolishness is but
a plaything; breakable. 
Most of all, replaceable.

Bearing welts on his soul
like a gladiator his battle scars,
the poet is never aware.
He has no sword, or spear
he is not in a war. Only a victim of slavery.

The poet think he breathes flowers
cries diamonds and sings like angels
when really all he does is bleed.
All the worse, all the better for him
for agony and misery are his mistresses.

Poor poet
Silly poet
Sad poet
You are a shell of a man. 
Within you lies Heaven for you're empty and ungraspable.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Another kind of Love

Because the allure lies in its innocence. In all its fleeting mischief. A sort of purity that can only be preserved through chastity. Paper thin, the line that allows and forbids, that it is almost false.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Anti-social II

Absence of the ability to willingly, contentedly, mingle with people in general. An ineptitude that causes consternation. Failure to adapt to society.

Sunday, July 3, 2011


The need to evade encounters, conversations. Even mere eye-contact. Discomfort verging on mild fear. An almost anxiety I would rather avoid. Avoidance of people.