somewhere    2000 -    
What does it take to become a poet? I just write to express.
What does it take to become a poet? I just write to express.

Sloth hath taken me
Envy seeps within my soul
Yet I keep righteous

oh please forgive my sins, as I falter in despair and wallow in my sorrows, let me see the light I was once basked in.

Limitations of the human heart,
So fickle and feisty and miserable.
Like a coin with two-faces apart,
I flip it like a switch as I gamble.

Losing my warmth like I've died,
I kept on walking barefoot in the Arctic.
I've lost my senses and forgot how to walk,
I fell down and drowned in the cold.

Feelings of contentment, "I tried."
Feelings of madness, "It's chaotic!"
Feelings of hopelessness, "Aftershock..."
Feelings of warmth, "No!", I called.

I wanted to give up all hope,
Inhumane to every emotion,
All I wanted was to cope,
But love was a miserable affliction.

As I tread this path of harsh winds,
Guided by what seems to be light,
I fell down into the ice-cold ocean,
And as I drowned, it was warm afterall...

Should I swim up and keep walking? Or drown and be satisfied with my own dying warmth?

ecstatic emotions overflow within,
raging intense waves of various colors,
invalidate my dull world and chagrin.
never have I felt such horrors!

like prickly throns of a rose,
your name gives me a tingly sensation.
like a deadly flatline motion,
expressed within a heart rate monitor.

realizations shower me like the arctic glaciers,
obliterating my body, crushed beneath the ice.
myopically, my vision blurs as you move farther,
asphyxiation sets in within my cold jealousy.

I don't know how to feel. Sometimes I'm as chill as ice, yet sometimes I seem to be frozen in place with a dying heart.

Music flowing, drowning and filling up empty hearts.
Sometimes we laugh, then cry tears in quarts.
Like the internal structures of a speaker,
To the beat of the sound, it makes us unstable and quiver.

Resounding and struggling, it sings anthems not it's own.
As the bass line keeps on sounding, so does it's thrashing.
A violent shake of waves that flow within us, making us groan.
The beat of the speaker's anthem for broken hearts, bursting.

Choruses and verses that relate to stimulate the soul.
Interludes filled with emotions making us fall.
This speaker that keeps on resounding and transmitting,
Is making me burst out my feelings as if I was dying.

Numerous emotions and various songs,
Of different genre's and feelings conveyed,
Are heard through this persecuted speaker,
Beaten down and thrashed, broken, scattered.

This speaker that speaks sounds not of it's own,
Is trying to convey genuine emotions...

I'm trying to speak yet no words come out,
I try to express it yet it comes out scratched.
As if I'm a broken speaker, I was out of whack.
You borrowed my speakers and I lost my voice.

Not a single day passes that I don't use my speakers and listen to music. Not a single day passes that I don't daydream about you too.

Jaded from your viciously captivating smiles,
Ubiquitous yet blurred and vague,
Stinging pain from this weird emotion,
Thank you for the greeting,
It made me happy just by seeing blue and white,
Naivete has taken over me, flustered red.

It's my birthday. I'm usually blue but... I guess my heart's beating again. I'm exhausted from it though. Thank you, words can't express my gratitude.

Lost in a cold night,
I have lost my mind, it hurts.
I wake up confused.

I've lost something I can't remember
#lost  

Unscrupulous, surreptitious, and without a doubt, unnerving! This innate dissonance, have you ever encountered such a vile thing? Like a rainforest of such beauty and tranquility only to be interrupted by the bombs of war! Thundering amongst the hail of bullets are massive planes accompanied by perilous sounds from tanks and  agonizing death screams! The disgusting noise pollution of such dissonance within this imagery is just too much to bear!

You see, this world is filled with contrasts. Black and white, night and day. There's never a boring moment once you've become insane yet there's nothing to do when you're sane! It's highly implied that life is incomplete without death. Like the fingerprints on our fingers, life is diverse and unique, yet in this instance, everything's a mess!

The ears can see and the eyes would hear, and I'm driven insane by this sight! The heart can think and the mind can feel, and I would bitterly claim that I do not think to feel these types of things. These bombshells called emotions has destroyed my tranquil mind space. It has been filled with the shrapnel of you, setting me ablaze and injuring my inner confines like say, my gut, for I feel butterflies in my stomach. I feel as if I'll be plucking up daisies from that grassland I've once sat on. You've ruined my orchestra with dissonant notes.

I couldn't ask for more.
You revel in the ever-changing.
In my dissonance,
I'll then hand you this note:

"I thank thee for the chaos one hath brought upon me; I crumble down as I am rebuilt. Like the earth born from planetary collisions, we've collided. I hope to be amongst the stars, like the earth, filled with life."

A messy concoction of my thoughts written in prose. Is this even poetry? I wouldn't even know. Cheers.
 
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