Neither one of us want to say goodbye

Now, I'll be looking you in the eye.


Narrow rivers of red trickle down my arm

Only tears stream down our faces, the knife digging deeper.


Oh, shrouded in grief we became.


Only a minute for us to breathe.


And time resumes, cloaked once again from perception.

The first flame slowly flickers out.


No other source of illumination burns.


You gather kindling, desperate to find some sense of security.


The security light brings.


Ash begins to gather on your face.


Forming your very visage, only frozen in place.

The mask of undeniable terror.

C'est la vie./Through the glass

We abashedly curled at lips

Swooned at hips

Harkening back to a period of time that no longer existed

(Where is my mind?)

She was-
Is still beautiful
Neither there, just here now.

Her voice echoing ever and ever :

"Hello."

From a blank slate, there is curiousity.
With curiousity,  abstractness appears.
Beyond abstractness, patterns tumble.

Seeking meaning, patterns into logia.
Overseeing what was lost, into sense.
Unless I'm mistaken, birthing loss.
Loss, yes loss. Sprang forth emotion.
Master of none, jack of all.
And a motion that never knew toil.
Thrumming tunes that bought ache.
Emotive, encouraging yet eccentric.


Life, is a much diluted, many splendoured thing, it brings forth things we never know if will work out, never know if what we need is behind that door.

Only when there's an equal force acting on us, do we stop spinning in place, do we stop being us, do we stop and stare, for we'd have found something to cherish.. or crush.

Victory is only worthwhile when there's someone to see it, but what use is victory when you're all alone again, all spent and used up?

Enter your desire, to be used, to be abused, to lose control, to be vague, to be understood, to be one again, after eons of separation, an empty vessel, to be filled with the other's soul.


From my hidden desire to have you
I realised I was looking for myself
And when I found myself
I didn't know what to do with myself
So I gave up finding a meaning
I gave up everything so to find myself
A prose with no mosaic
So I went into it
And I found these scriptures
Blank again
To the top again

Where I found power.

From desire, there is surrender.
From surrender, power.

We're in love with the things we can't see,

Searching for meaning in the silent groves,

Dreading the day we have to face ourselves,

In mirrors glazed with old reflections,

Of how we used to be.

Thrilling at the thought of leaving you again,
Not realising it was really me who I was going to leave.


dead state


Mistaking your smiles for more than what it really is worth,
After learning so much yet still failing the tests anyway,
Setting this bridge on fire when you're still on it.

best conditions

Prose breaks down as stanza hears your screams, freeform falling into the dark backward and abysm of time,
the hot asphyxiation leading to death throes and need for release.



im sorry


I'm leaving.
Three steps.

misdirection
erasing my existence
departure

You walk into lives, clenched fists
You stray into lives, clenched fists

She tells him her story
He tells her his tale

We wander into souls, open-shut eyes.
We float into souls, closed-circuit minds.

A glass offered to ghosts
A dreamy interlude

They left us, with bleeding hands.
Left you, with broken bones that will never heal.

Her perfect circle.
His vicious cycle.

Can you blame me if I need your fingers tracing down my spine again?

I've gone too long, fallen too hard to make sense where I end and you begin.

I pay more attention nowadays to the air escaping my teeth between each word I speak,


To the soft crackling, in the dark.

There was somebody for each scar we have on our skin ; a flesh canvas streaking raving stark mad.

It's getting a little crowded in here, don't you think?


I can only have so many colours and voices in my head telling me what to do.


Ego, id, superego.

Eis.


Her body reminds you of a far off distant memory that screams of lessons


Of the separation when the day you discovered lust


Of the discord that kissed you when you were left with no one


It's impossible not to feel anything

So let the waters carry you off.

Let her presence not be an eldritch one, but a welcome one.

Raven feathers litter the cobblestones
black dresses flutter
Dead doves line the sewers
white lies splutter
Treading on brittle ribcages
the centre of his mind
The consumed, mad king looking up
he's home, maybe
Softly broken sirens blare again
it's the end of the world
We're home, I think

To feel red, to bleed red, to be red.

It's not enough.

The blood must flow unconsciously,
The need bleeds from every inch of self.

A hunger, that is not misunderstood.

A quiet day followed by empty nights without her.

It's finding she's Yoko to your Lennon.

Ah, the silence of conniptions.

What would they say, what would they do?

There is no cold white light for me.
Only the stark white after all the grey.

Uncertainties cloud judgment
Eccentricities pierce better reasoning
By the time the colours fall

You will know why the thin line holds us so.

Both liberating and excruciating. The candle wick burns down til it's nothing ; it proceeds to extinguish itself.

Such is the natural order of things : the only constant is time.

what we feel for the time passed
how we think for the lives past
we loved. and that's all we can do.


This fresh coat of paint is cracking up faster than how I thought it would be.

A numb sense of right & wrong

The aftermath of events went nuclear


Making an esoteric pact all alone by a round table

Who what when why - identity crisis of belief

Even with the chill of culmination


I recall the actual events of long ago, like it was yesterday.

Now all the songs speak of your scratched out mosaic.

The crawling of memories bleeding out into the next pool of tears I create.


It feels like dying, just a hundred times more worse.


I have issues.

You issued my execution warrant by the end of our red strings.

Funny. I don't remember trafficking any drugs.

Unless the drug was the feeling of emasculation, disorientation, disrespect, sordid throwing of caution to the wind.

Then yes.

It's a marsh of filth you made me crawl in.

And you know I would do it all again in a heartbeat.


You're pointless.

The eighth in a long line of failures,

Luring all he could use to build his empire of rust.

Lusting after impossible trajectories,

Trachea wheezing in sorrow,

Rowing down the empire of rust.

Hello there.

It has been five years now to the day I met you in person again.

After like, years of not meeting.

Five years plus a few days.

Ah.

If someone told me five years ago I'd be what I am now, I'd probably laugh my *** all the way to the Singapore River and threw myself into it.
(you know I can't swim.)

I wasn't always like this, you know that don't you?

Bitter, bitter heart of mine.

Though it is precisely why bitterness enjoys misery's company : bitterness provides the bleak landscape which misery just sits and broods for days on end.


But then again, I wonder.

Did your coming into my life herald my restart?

Was it the end of my reign of dysphoria, the king in black with eyes that mirror nothing but echoes of yesteryear?

Perhaps, just perhaps.


That one day I made my decision to honour both of us.

To fully enclose myself, wrap my soul around yours.

The warmth of acceptance and eternal patience for one such as I.


I remember how much you hated me writing.

I remember how much you hated me recalling about moments past.

I remember most bitter moments, and wash them with water when you leave me all alone.


But I keep your smiles close to my heart.

Remember how we first went out?


Through the glass, right?



Ah.

So much transpired since then.


Funny how I've become synonymous with you and antagonistic to others.




Perhaps they were the kindling so I could step upon the grey expanse of ash.



I don't regret the choices I made.


Choices imply responsibility.

And all this time I thought I had responsibility over myself.

But I didn't.


She once told me to love myself.
She once told me to be good
She once told me many things, but I never once was any of them.



Funny.

I'm supposed to say something melodic or dissonant here.


Isn't that what I do best, poetry?


But no.


This is no poem.


This is no love letter.


This is no song.


This is someone who has been beaten black and blue.


This is someone who is numb.


Someone who would laugh as the whole world quite literally burns around him and perish screaming, fingers raised in a one gun salute.


This is a confession.


This is me no longer in doubt.


It's a rocky road ahead.


Surprisingly, we taught each other how to love.


I, with my scars.


You, with your demons.


Your feet and mine in a shy embrace.


The difference between us like how one would view the moon and the stars from down below.


Yet fail to notice, the moon and the stars will forever be closer than those down below will ever be.


With a simple task and clear intent, but a blatant disregard for preservation, a malevolent will.

Even though this is all happening, this immolated man spent moments frozen in eternity with your eyes open wide, a circle immaculate, the simplest bewitching of a non-physical drug candy.



With calculated movements befitting the only dance we'll forever do with each other.


For every second crawling by, feeding the smouldering flames between us, harkening to the start of it all.


Happy birthday my love.


Here's to us again.

Here's to you.


Love, ZHB.

My eyes fall back down on the floor.


Grounded, but secure.


This is the logical result : I'm leaving the burn marks behind.

A cool, dry corpse, crackling apart piece by piece in the wind.

Leaving only, beautiful bleached bones behind.

Bitter pill
Swallowed down
Like a cuckold
But an accidental one
**** dude
You were right
Men like me exist to be used
Heh
No wonder the disdain.
The gut never lies.

The same old lie.
Choking down with ice cold water
Like a game
But one with scalding oil
**** man
Should've listened to you
Heh
Bring it back down
Back into the eye of the hurricane.

With the intensity of these feelings

Feeling goosebumps up my spine

Of condensation of sensation

(you are being too ******* yourself)

<I don't think I would go anywhere without dominance>

<dominance of my thought, heart and soul>


(It's like you're not letting me in.)

<You're projecting.>


I feel what they must have felt, so long ago.

It feels like leaving hope

:   but I am left withered   :
:   choices to accept   :
:   my role in all this   :

The tunes swept over me

the shudder down my spine


Have you finally returned?


Or are you just



Visiting?

You.

I don't know what it is that I see in you.

Neither do I know how that this came to be.

These logistics demand that the evergreen status of my mind request the answer to it.

But as for me, I've decided.
I'll stop fighting.

I'll let these waves caress my skin.

I'll indulge myself in these feelings.

Maybe one day I'll wake up and realise it was but an illusion.

A dream.

An inception born from a desire to connect.

But then again.

From my desire, there was surrender.
From my gradual surrender, power.

I love you.

Call me angry,
call me needy,
call me clingy,
tell me I'm full of want.

But you should know, when you kissed me for the first time,
the maelstrom in my heart waned, and the chaos that wrapped her head around it dissipated.

for only with you do my soles get set on fire,
the dark of the night becomes more welcoming like day is supposed to be,


and the love, you've got the love.

There are moments

Which you speak


But there are moments

Where you halt your breath


And speak of something else

For better or for worse.

Her tension, was palpable.

Tears drenched her face,

Like a waterfall that never knew end.

She picked herself up,

And swallowed herself whole.

Just like her namesake,

She shut herself off.

Fading back to her Wonderland.

The silent tick of the clock
Brings me home to you

The silent tick of the clock
Brings me home, to you.

You are the unwritten sensation,
The unspoken passion.

Held passively,
Arms bound around my skin,

Just the two of us,
In this moment forever.

Slithering snakes obscure view,
Aching with need, want, desire.
Her fingers trace, knead, embed themselves in mine.

It's the disquiet that follows.
Aching burning crying deep within.


It is just something simpler than what you usually find,
The bliss you find,
When you're all out of time.

We'll hang up our cowls & capes

In the thick of the collapsed ruins

Cranking one last tune on expired phonographs

Groaning as osteofluorosis plays his merry tune again

Still, gazing with the vast emptiness of long-lost eyes,

As a long lost chord haunts these halls again, we mutter :

"I can hear it now, like I heard it then."

Finally I am free1
I pay the cost2
The tears dry up0
The time slides by7
The heart's cold winter opens up to the2 eye of the storm0
The throne of want, and the crown of1 irony.*7



Why does this hurt so much?
Is this how normal people do normal things and have normal hearts broken?
Is this the constant loop of emotion and separation, a dance to find the other?
Is it because there's something wrong with the moon tonight, perhaps being born under an unlucky star?
Is this how heartbreak, feels like after all this time?
How do I reconcile my feelings, how do I keep my immaterial guts from spilling out?
Why is it, even after everything, so beautiful?
Why is everything a beautiful wreck, sordid and macabre?
Why is it, that I still am in love?

My body's silently cooling back down

The warmest dead body I've ever had.


Yet as I fade away from you, from me


I'm beside you, in time.

This pain I feel, it's beautiful.
This pain I feel, it's magnificent.

An odd sense of humour, life has.

This closure I have, soul-rattling.
This closure I sought, psychedelic.

No more tears with my years.
No more fears with my years.

I flew too close to the sun.
Now for my own good.

No more.

What you told me, rang true.
Did I want to use the power of the hammer to shatter glass?

Or to forge myself anew, like steel?
The fact I kept talking about how things were, showed I cared still.

Now, scream at the hole we left each other.

You think you know pain?

You think you know  Hell?

Take a good look around you.

You're just a tourist here, don't you forget that.

  - No Place Like Hell(ome) : НебоScrub

Shrugging off the dust,

Cracking open old scars to see the new skin grafts on the heart.

I was the one who took it all in stride, letting it all unfold.

I will never let anything go untold,
Cause the feelings go on and on.

But I have a choice, this time.

I swear I'll never be there, I refuse.

I flew into the embrace of uncertainty
Afraid of what I'd find, alone.

Now, after settling on the shoulders of choices made
I'm mostly home

And I'm me
And we're home

And there's no point being selfish anymore.

The months have come and passed
The seasons changed for time withers away the mightiest amongst us

So why do I feel so alone?
Time heals all wounds
But I think Father Time forgot about me.

These embers are dying out.

Let us seek new pyres to martyr ourselves on.

The lips of the woman I love, intoxicating.

The way she suckled on my lower lip,
Spellbinding.

Her body convulses with mine, in the sacred bond of the bedroom.


She is mine.

a drive to find peace
a need to be whole

the heart understanding a feeling
the mind fumbling for meaning

this is vicious
what was private emotion
is now exposed

Indeed, there is no question
Whether their tunes start again.
This time, they all halt.

With once forgotten sensuality


I kiss you again.

A love so brittle it might as well be bound in papyrus.

The faintest of smiles would rekindle it though, and etch more scriptures onto once bony, stony hearts.

Let the blood flow
Through these halls
Of the love
That we used to cherish

Let the fire burn
Tearing down
This haunted manor
Of the conflagration of lies

Turn off these lights forever.
These ashen lips bear scarification.
The mirrors I saw you with, shattered.
My pride bearing the brunt of the ruin.

Where molten ashes once flowed
Only cooling blood remains
Sticking to my feet, like a vise.
And I left, troubled mind going back to black.

The crown I wore, the jester's hat I adorn my head with now,
With the Kingdom in rubble,
I go back to her, and you go back to black.


My blood now settled, with the rebellion awaiting their Red Queen once again.
The ebony sea parting for the ivory pedestal to place your head on.
The tapestries in tatters, madness apparent in your eyes.

And I hold her hand, going back to black.
The pindrop silence shattered with the black disquiet.
Black curtains, with the grey smoke.
Black lips, rotted away.
Black memories, in my ashes.
Black speech, into my stride.

We go back to black.

I wished for an angel to descend,
Only to pluck out their wings and burn the feathers.

I hoped to hold a scent to memory,
Instead scorched earth yet I recall.

Maybe it's me.
Maybe it's me.

I fought to hold what I held dear.
Only for it to slip out anyway, when I wasn't looking.

Now, I'm an idiot in a parade of fools.


With shell and bone, I let go of you.
With iron and stone, I become him.

Leave the king in black be. It's hopeless.

Fire.

Fire everywhere again.

Only that their flames are freezing ones.

That the warmth, once emblazoned into their being,


Is long dead & gone.

Cold sweat running down the face

Mouth clenched in anticipation of the yawning pain


The open wound festering would've been preferable to the sealing, stitching of it.

Dour expression on my face as I make the choice

Because I know, I know I have to do this.


Til we meet again.

There have been a dozen homes

a thousand kisses

but only seven wild flowers litter the porch of memories

baring their beauty in stark consistent contrast of concrete

year after year

as if their presence

unyielding

unwelcome

showed that love

would always


stay.

"You just wanted to hear me scream, didn't you?"

chuckle
Darling, it's been so long since I heard you moan.

I'll just settle for your screams.

The only thing he's ever done,

Oh so tired of all the wrongs

A little more.

Every day.

Kept falling apart and.

Slipped away.

Before you were here before,
I didn't know where to look at,
To be standing, being bronzed by the Sun, or to be seated, head held in my hands.


And the orchestral works that ensued weren't unlike bird traps, binding the next one, til I had enough and discarded innards I had enough supping on.


Never did I know the least likely of insidious chapters I would go through,
New beginnings would herald,
Gritted teeth and gratitude ensuing.


Psychosis attacks, mental breakdowns and more scars on the body, beautifully macabre.
I'm all hung up, you were all stuck up,
Til I stuck you up.

I am a machine,
I was a machine,
A war machine.

A pretty hate machine.