I've Forgotten
what I wanted to be,
until a day came and went
where I was forced to remember.

I've Wondered
what could've been
had I willed this slothful self
to expand his meagre knowledge.

I've Imagined
had I the stamina to write
for a time uninterrupted,
would anything be different?

Could I be
happier
then?

The hall drowns with laughter and romance,
As couples sway together and dance.
Some sits aside, staring enviously,
Thinking how frivolous it can be.
Some laugh and shout instead,
Imagining they're dancing too, but only in their head.
Yet no matter how much corny it may seem.
Dancing with someone you like, is an attainable dream.

'Twas another evening of delight
Of random spur across the parapet.
The chill in the air
so thick he could smell it.
It seeped and sapped
his strength.
The carriage drove on
Regardless
For the journey
cannot be undone.

An excitement, yet indifference —
a contradiction that consists him.
Familiar face abounds
as he neared—he arrived.
Among strangers
amidst nervous delude
Time spent its motion
He met her once
Drunk
on her own emancipation.

Finally
The world faded away
The two clung onto the other
For a moment, inseparable
An instant of pleasure
Innocent passion
Basked in youthful dreams —
fantasies.
It was then, he tasted
Another locket
of roses
It was then, he knew
His fate
was sealed.

Because of what I've done,
I've lost you, you who is the most important of all,
I tried to give what I could not,
A life better than mine,
A love that grew dull -- promises that I broke.
I found you because of a mistake,
And for the very same reason,
I lost you, you who is the most dearest of all.
But there's a truth that I've forgotten,
Rather ignored - the irrevocable truth,
How can I say that I've lost you when you were never mine.
Because It was not me that you loved.
It's my words that got your attention,
Not my heart that's been a beggar for your love.
It pains me to say,
That I lost you, you who is the captor of my soul.

The black, the blue; pure white and red -
In brightness dimmed he lived by greedy whim,
Yet never thought so far ahead for naught -
Until he felt the gaze of Grim on him.

The sky, the sea; ***** brown and greeneries -
Hence fade away to soot 'til none remained,
Oh lovely memory of sceneries begot -
Lost; still destiny maintained the same.

The rich, the living; quiet enviosity and rain -
His heart slows from the veiled shadowed threat,
In vain, he held his presence close and taut -
Then and there, he lost his precious painful breath.

Sparks of fire, up in the sky
As people watch, heads up high
The momentary beauty that's fleeting by
Amazed and stunned, with wonder in their eyes.
Glad and merry, they said "Hi,"
A moment later, they bid goodbye.
How sad and lonely, a life short-lived
All those years spent, the blood and tears,
life and death, both swift.

Tears don't fall
Simply for pain.
A bright light blinds
Even the clearest
Of eyes.

Whites plucked
Does not conform.
The blackened spots
Even the darkest
Of lives.

Delirium.
Here is a time when I know nothing
Yet seemingly everything, all at once.
Pretension.
Addicted in the feeling
Of a lifetime of exaggerations.
Encapsulation of a behavior
And vice I always envisioned
Feared, even.

Evasion.
A method I turn to;
To escape that which I always
Thought would shatter me
My whole personality.

But am I even sure what that is?

How abysmal, small, insignificant.
I realize at times
What I consider to be what
Matters most
Means nothing at all.

Hazy, fleeting, floating
In an atmosphere where I feel joy most—
Illusion. It wasn't joy at all
But freedom—

Still, it could be.

Uncertain.
Haphazard thoughts crash
Against my inhibitions.

Still, I am me.

I cry, laugh, smile, frown
For all sorts of reasons

Still, I will be.

For what I am:
The boy I knew
The man I grew to
Hating and Loving
Endearing and Enduring
Will always stay within.
I shall never forget
Who I was yesterday
And what I shall be
Tomorrow.

These confessions of realizations.
Things I never said—
Wanted to say,
Always
But never managed to.

To you who closed the doors.
To my struggling, elusive honesty.
Then inevitable it was
That I grew tired and besotted
With what we had
Where I could neither retreat
Nor advance towards Elysium.

Delirium.
Encapsulation—
Everything that I am
Towards the void
We find ourselves.
Finally, surrender was all I had
To save my drowning conceptual notion
Of all I perceive
Of whom I am
Of whom I was
And who I will be
From further despair.

Oblivion.
Emergence—
From the cocoon I've wrapped myself in.
Eternally questioning: am I free?
Have I grown from what we had
Or do I remain as myself,
Complete, as I view
The aspired self I lost
Along the way?

still.

Remembrance—
The Preservation of what needs to be
Propagating the lesions I earned
From you.
The imagination I conjured
In hopes of a better
Cause and outcome.

Finality. Nihility.
This moment shall be the end.

Of us.

Destroying what elated,
But ironically
Hunted all that I can give.

Remembrance—
The good times
The bad times
I shall carry
Perpetually
Wherever the winds,
The lightning,
and the Imaginary,
Shan't take
This delusional life I led.

I've spoken of death several times before.
I've imagined the feeling countless times more.
Yet no matter how much I think of what it would feel like.
Its sudden - unpredictable - declaration of presence,
shook my very core.
It feels surreal. Unreal.
That who was once a person yearning to feel,
is now gone.
My dear friend - a brother;
What was a meeting set in years - now a lifetime.
May it not be eternal.

I write for nothing,
I write because of no one,
I write, simply, because I think.
My words are just thoughts expressed in humanly words.
These random, confusing thoughts;
I do not understand.
So I put it in paper,
Hoping one day, someday,
someone out there,
Might.

Hence, in a faraway place
A lone man went on
busily
while the world continued to move
undeterred.

What was once lovers,
now turned foes for reason
unbeknownst
to the now, loner,
me.

My apologies.
I am not that special,
nor am I unreplaceable—
a twig-like existence, swathed in cellophane,
happed under the cold waters,
rippling from the first drop
whose source is something
I can never know.

It's late spring now—
time for bees to buzz around,
for the winds to breeze warm specks of dust and flow,
for birds to fly unfettered,
and Deer and cows to graze undeterred—
the lives of whom
I can never know.

Complex, wimpled words weave fantasies,
cloaked in mantled gazes of the spotlight.
But I remain a spectator
on the sidelines of this dream,
just floating and bubbling away.
It could've been fun,
has been dreary,
or will be fleetingly hollow—
I can never know.

A flightless songster, who never learned to fly
but only sing in derivatives.
Unfulfilled and uncertain,
a stale and trite narrative of life.
Someone faint and transient,
who always dreams of the greener grass
on the other side—
a place I didn’t know I left behind.

Now I look back,
to where it all began,
little by little,
moving past the point
of where I am, was, and will be.
Except this time,
I can and will know
the end and reason
for this wistful season—

For I have lived through it before.

I don't drink, this is why:
They all tell me that it is fine,
That I'll like it and have some fun.
Well the truth is - I do not want to,
To lose control of myself,
When even now - sober - I have none.
"Just a sip" is where it starts.
That is when, you can't say no to another.
Until next time, you'll be drinking a whole lot more.
I don't drink, that is why.

It's warm when I seek the cold embrace of frost and midnight chill. I can only grace my blessings and praise the sheltered stars that through the open, narrow window, the winds buffet in the late twilight; I lie awake, armed and emboldened with nothing but sophistry and unneeded nor unwanted thoughts.

Pretense.

In the absence of light, short of this device I hold that which replaced the venerable pen and paper I seldom used; my senses honed into cruising, fleeting, unnerving, banally nonexistent creatures that swim across my view.

Randomly.

They make me shiver as they come across memories I'd rather not remember. Why can't I forget? Or better yet, why can I not slumber when I thought I loved it so? I should be drowning in sweet, beguiling dreams. ****** upon realities outside the realm of known truths or histories or possibilities. Drifting upon all genres imaginable.

Stories.

Experiences old and new. Perhaps a journey nobody ever knew nor envisioned. But nay. My eyes remain open. While my mind wanders this little room I've grown accustomed to.

Enclosed.

Should I wake tomorrow, and I hope I do, nothing would greet me but the sun and the heat on my face, notwithstanding, maybe a little morning dew. Hence, I wish my tomorrow self the best of luck as I bid adieu to the hours lost staring into empty, void space.

Good night to all but me.

When your greed takes over,
Your desires and cravings become unbearable,
And your choices become stained by  the mistakes you made.
You lose your will to the devil,
And to him, you kneel.
Surrendering your pure soul over.
And your bourne destroyed forever.

Piece of advice; a slice will suffice.

When you're hurt by someone,
You lose sight of who you are,
You see the world as a coaster that's bringing you down.
You mistake every good thing as something painful.
Your sight becomes narrow,
You grow bitter and old.
You forget that you are someone beautiful and kind.
When this happens,
The world becomes lesser than it already is.
For your heart is lost, nowhere to be felt.

Here I am, in the middle of the night.
The wind, cold; the room, silent.
My eyes, blinded by the white light,
reading words that formed images of the past.

Words that I wrote.
Memories that I sought.
Sought I did, not to forget.
but to remember.

It was painful. Once.
But not anymore. No longer.
Now I smile, upon the beauty of naivety. Immaturity.
But most of all:
Love.

Words built upon childish love.
The little kid who thought,
he knew Pure Love.
But it was merely a whim.
A desire.
A choice.

He dove head-on,
without knowing anything at all.
And that he did, and he was
full of joy.

That's why he did not cry.
He did not even try.
He only felt cold. Empty.
Because he knew he lost something.
Something he held dearly.

And so, I lingered. 'Till now.
It's time to formally close that chapter.
And for new memories,
I shall wander.

As the stars on the dark sky shines,
The ground stars sparkles in kind.
With no moon on both sides,
Its place in the middle of it all,
Looking at the two scapes visible to its eyes.
Deciding whether to stay or go back,
To a place where he is adored and looks upon,
But ever alone -- torn in pieces.
Or a place where friends and stranger alike greet his presence with love.
His mind is in peril. Still he decides.

All I felt this Valentine's day is the cold of the night,
The sheer chill of the wind,
and the whiplash of my momentum as I travel down the road,
Speeding towards somewhere.

And I arrived, finally.
Here; nowhere.
Whereas, all I saw was the damnation of lives--death.
Men killing each other mercilessly,
driven by vengeance,
Wreaking havoc everywhere.
These clash ends in bitter regret.
And I do nothing else but shed an invisible tear,
Feeling sorry-at everything, at myself.

The plans, the concepts, the ideas, the images-gone.
The flowers I sought, the words I wrote.
Everything I wrought--all for naught.
I could not see its worth.
The anticipation I felt, the excitement I desired-was, in the end, not met.
I am left unfulfilled.

This feeling of sadness, of sorrow.
All because I couldn't settle.
All I got this day is a feeling of bitterness.
A taste of something I'll soon remember forever.

How disappointing it is this Valentine's day.
How disappointing it is for me to live everyday.

Some may shed streaming flower of rivers upon venturing uncharted places;
but Not I.

Some may laugh at the face of the unknown, and bravely face it head on, smiling all the while;
but Not I.

Some would break their bones, grind their teeth, and shatter their minds through the spectrum for that condescending god-like existence.
But Not I.

Some would dream basked in sunlight, living their lives freely and without plight; Not I.

No.

The one who merely passes through, pretending to be anything and everything. Living aimlessly and uncaring.
That, is my truth.

There she was,
facing a group of people no better
than strangers.
In a room filled with noise
and disturbance,
amidst the cold aura of the spectrum.
She stood: pondering.
In the brief span of a millisecond,
she thought up an answer to the
question presented to her.
She smiles.

She scans the room.
And for some inexplicable reason,
a coincidence;
In fact - nothing more than a whim of chance;
She met my eyes.

Instantaneous - it was.
It look less than a fleeting second - our gaze.
Yet, to me, that memory remains an eternity.
It took less than a fleeting second - for her
to shake my stagnant heart, my deadpan soul,
my enfeebled spirit.
It took nothing more than a smile,
to make my heart beat again.

Let it be known, be a knot in the records of old, that I have never existed in these planar woven threads of nonexistence. In this moment, as I stand on the threshold between memory and oblivion, it is my deepest desire, my twisted adoration and immolation from self-loathing, to be remembered. Yet forgotten in that very same breath, I wish for nothing more. To be a ghost to those who knew me, to those who never will.

Six seconds. A peak of wrath I never thought I could reach. Fleeting moments of blinded redness and tunneled thoughts that I may make mistakes with impudence. Oh, how I would love to throw myself off the cliffs for the granted clarity thereafter. By a reason so meager and inconsequential, I lost respect for him whom I truly knew since birth and him who lived my life; for six seconds I did not know who I was.

Six seconds to unmake everything I was and everything I thought I could be. An instance that cracked the thin veneer of who I’ve been pretending to be my whole life - a good person. I wish I could have turned away but didn’t. Six seconds where time itself turned inward, coiling around my thoughts, suffocating reason. The world narrowed, all else fell away, and in the tunnel of my own making, I became him-the stranger who wears my face but speaks in unfamiliar tones I could never have spoken.

Now, as I stand on the precipice, watching the remnants of my own actions reflecting from the void. A mirror of who I was and who I might become, I am left with a question I cannot answer. Who am I, truly? Am I the one who lived a life of restraint, holding back the tempestuous intrusive impulses? Or am I the one who let it loose? The one who errs perpetually without fail.

I don’t know. Perhaps I never will. Perhaps the only truth is that I am all of them—the calm and the storm, the builder and the destroyer, the one who remembers and the one who wishes to be forgotten. He is all made of these moments, these fragments of time that shape him, whether I like it or not.

Six seconds. That’s all it takes and all it took. To lose. And when those six seconds return—and I know they will—I will stand at the edge once more, thinking maybe six seconds is enough to catch myself instead.

I am stuck; here, outside.
No one's home to open the doors,
Plus I'm tired, lonely and coarse.
The insects are swarming me,
They won't leave,
For I am food in their eyes,
Exposed and out of place.

I keep on retaliating, consistently,
But there seems to be no end to my misery.
I'm tired of waiting; I hit the doors,
Knowing no one will answer - I pound some more.
Begging, crying; someone please open the doors.

The heart of one sublimates,
The solid love of youth,
It turns to air - thin and gone.
Reckless to refute.

All those years - turned away,
As if it never was.
The wasteful love, sublimates.
Gone as air but there.

The beginning
for us was rough.
I've pondered
times aplenty
if my choices were
right.
Well, looking at us now.
I'd say it was.

You weren't perfect.
Perfectly pretty or
perfectly kind,
But then again, nor am I.
You are just, simply,
who you're meant to be.
And that's perfect enough
for me.

My purpose to rise
every morn, became just
to see your voice;
hear your touch;
feel your laugh —
to be ever present besides.

Values in dissent
is never an indication
for whether we are
— evermore —
fated.
We'll only lose
if always we seek
Perfection.
a fantasy
from one another.

We oft neglect
that which shines above.
We are blinded instead
our focus; shrouded
Fret not
For here I am.
Look -
I am yours

Here I am again,
At the road I've walked a million times before,
But never appreciated its splendour, until someone showed me how.
I look down at the pavement; at the brown, greeny soil.
I watch as one foot steps in front of the other,
A never ending cycle,
One falls back; the other jumps forward.
Always.

I lift my head up high,
Looking at the wide blue sky
I see the birds that fly by,
Seeming as free as the water's tide,
And the Sun's shine that grazes my eyes.
I bow, and I smile.

I look at everything that surrounds me,
The row of trees that show my way.
The leaves that rustle as the wind blows hard,
The people that smile when your paths cross.
I continue onward - forward.  
And as I have walked the road I've walked a million times before,
Here I am. I am home.

The bitter taste of coffee lingers,

and it stayed there hence.

Though. Here I am, still.

6 Years to finish

The bitterness that coffee

gave me.

A flavor I forgot.

A taste I now think,

is the same as all other coffee

I drink every day.

The lights are blinding.
Glaring shines that pierce
my blurring view

My eyes are blinding.
Missing obvious hints sprinkled
along clear-cut hues

My ears are ringing.
Blaring warnings whispered
through the noise of your silence.

My heart is blinding.
Drowning in raveled knots
of hope misconstrued

The lights are blinding.
Seeing nothing of value
within the trust I gave you

I am but a man, a man like you –
Living every single day, a day anew.
Alas! I could not find, a find so fine –
I opt to belt a path of my own design.

I crave to live deliberately, free from my kind –
They who kept me tied, like a ball of twine.
Hence, I live, hither live alone –
A wooden cabin, built on my own.

In a brown, hard bed, made of twigs and hay –
A plain, old man; there I go and lay.
Here, I think and think again!
About what it is, I seek to comprehend.

Beneath the sky, a sky so wide –
I lie and sigh; the laden pond, beside.
With a sloth in body, an owl in mind –
I explore unfettered and divined.

A time in the woods, while basked by the sun –
In pursuit of a truth, attained by none.
The rousing clouds, the glowing gleams of sheen –
Lo and behold! A lovely damsel in between.

Whence I look, look upon her figure –
Thence I smile, as she were upon her nature.
But a lucid dream is what it seems to be –
Forevermore, drowned in reverie.

For What I Seek, I find reclusive;
And Where It Lies, remains elusive.
So, I’ll think, and think, and think some more!
Until I find what it is, I am looking for.

Your smile is like a butterfly
with wings of different colors,
Your laugh; bright and ever-changing,
Your skin--soft as cotton and smooth as silk,
And as I caress your head like that of a baby's,
With your head lying on my arms,
I could feel my heart beating all the while.
And all I could think of was how beautiful you are.
And if yours was beating as hard as mine.
With future worries no longer in mind.
My mind is trapped in this moment in time,
Wishing it could last forever,
With no end, for all eternity.