Thursday, September 15, 2011


The truth remains that I think of you
too often than I wish to admit.
This involuntary infatuation
which I'd rather you not envision.
I would fare so much better
if to me you don't always matter.

I am collateral damage in the vicissitudes
of your admirers, which you have in multitudes.
I never intended be quite so weak
believe me, this emotional paralysis is torture.
This infallible seduction I suffer
is my own folly.

Unconsciously, thoughts of you pervade
even my quietest reveries.
Unintentionally, imaginary dialouges with you
overtake me in my moments of inattention.
What madness such sweetness
brings me, only the lovesick could perceive.

I am not in love with you
or am I in love with the idea of you.
This incomprehensible fixation I have for you
is in all probability a by-product
of sheer lonely delirium.
Loving you would have been much easier.

I end this with an anecdote:
In my dreams you come to me as a Rose.
Blood red, thorned and intoxicating.
I grasp you and I cut myself
I inhale your poison and lose myself
Yet I do not desist for I fear nothingness.

Friday, September 9, 2011


This impossible yearning to spill
this overwhelming desire to tell
what secrets I bear
all of them
all of me
all for you.

When we talk, all that I speak
is but a grain of the truth, which I hide.
All the while what turmoil you suffer me
they sublimate into non-existence.
For the glimmerings in my eyes
are fires you set within me.

I can never be frank, not
when you detest the idea of us sharing
ourselves. What thoughts you divulge to me
are those you feel unworthy of secrecy.
Obsessed with solitariness only as you can be.

You think me transparent
and as long as this thin veil
holds itself between us,
I can keep staging this private play.
All the better for you,
all the safer for me.


Note: I'm good at this. I'm good at being a suffering fuck. 
This self-concocted madness I posion myself with day in day out.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Towards Heaven

It is perhaps an acknowledgement to Heaven
that beauty on this earth is fleeting.
No matter how lovely anything is,
including Love itself
it does not last.

A realm of utmost perfection
where Beauty is absolute truth,
and eternal.
Transcending existence itself,
a creation unparalleled.

My delirious visions of romanticism
is but sediments of lust
precipitated from errors,
thought as human nature.
When really, all I need is fortitude.

Towards Heaven
is what I should aim for.
Towards Heaven
is what I should die for.


Uninspired by what I read
I succumb to route-learning.
The ultimate sin
in the questing for knowledge.

I adhere to the rules
and strive for modesty.
Conforming with the greatest reluctance
I am mediocre.

These feelings of unworth
I dampen with flights of fancy.
Dreaming up worlds with foreign realities
I let my vision blur.

This gloomy, fitful existence
it makes one hunger for an end.


Soft yet strong
like the beats of a bird's wings
when your presence touches me
I find it difficult to stay lucid.

You stir chaos in my mind.

Unawares of your effect on me,
my iron-wrought, bloodied exterior
which I curtain with calm demeanour;
To you, I am but a garden with gates open.

You sow seeds of trust in me.

But don't worry.
Despite it all, I won't say to you
that I need you or want you.
I believe that loveliness can only be fleeting.

With you, I wager my reason
my faculties, everything.

Monday, September 5, 2011

My muse

If there's anything useful I learn from
being acquainted with you
is that in complexity therein
lies absolute beauty.
And that in cruelty there is always;
Love misled
Loyalty betrayed
Promises thwarted.

Nightly tears, daily nightmares
you're my beautiful monster.
The fuel that burns me
thoroughly, for eternity.
I am skewed and debased
in my perception of your true self.
For in my aberrant loyalty to you
lies infinite cruelty.
Truly, I don't care for your humanity
merely your beauty, which I magnify.

For this, I am sorry.
Like all wicked creatures of this world
I scavenge for that which I aim my lust;
Your mind
Your visions
Your past
all I savour, though
I feign anxiety at your expense.

Dear muse,
within all these verses
laced in every single word
is an image of you.
Mutilated by me
so I may breathe my fantasy.
Almost all that I write, if not all
I flaunt your very vulnerability,
my own monstrosity.


Note: Sometimes I feel the need to debase my naivety in...I'm not sure what word to use, perceiving?...perceiving you because my dignity, self-worth hangs by it. My way of reassuring myself that there's nothing in the slightest bit...wrong with my Muse, which incidentally is what you are to me. 
There, I said it.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Highs & Lows

My mood can be flippant at times
drying all my laughter
freezing all my smiles
but most of all
it hollows me, completely and utterly.

I don't mind getting on a high
but all highs end with lows.
When the lows dip too low
the devastation seems irreversible
lasting moments that feels like eternities.

I have to put down my defences
and throw away my reservations
just to stay intact.
For a while, detached
from detachment.

When I set these fires in my mind
I burn my heart and lit my soul.
Afterwards, the ashes fall and settle.
For once I wish the wind would sweep me up
suspend me in lightness, happiness.