People have a way of living in my head
long after they're gone
In the dead of night
At the darkest hours of day
A vampire will incarnate from his grave
and shrieks so loud the sun takes refuge
behind heavy curtains
And every dream disappears
But I hope for tiny stars to shine
An interval for silence
short, short, short as it may be
To prove the people in my head are ghosts
and vampires live in hell
There is no hell, alas, outside my head
nor a graveyard beyond my heart.
If so, one's precious moment is when they're gone
To bed, or to the sky...
But the people in my head never sleep
or die..
I feed them with a mouthful of tranquilizers
and they howl even more.
What if I am the one howling in my head?
One can never say for sure..

There came a tapping on my eyes
A muffled voice, an urgent plea
to wash away the tranquil ignorance
and replace it with turbulant daze
O the effect it had on me..
Had the world gone black
for two days or three
I would've thrown a late night party
invited every star one could see
in the ***** of sky, at the hand of moon
and their shiny reflections in the black sea
But that my grey dreams come true
in the wake of sun's ascent
to turn its golden rays to dead ashes
leaves me without a single clue
if there's a dawn to marry the end of this night
If it's what I'll always be through..

For the sake of love
Let us build a fortress anew
and forget the ruins we used to dwell on.
Reveries that made us linger
more than we were supposed
promises made,
Tears shed,
And hearts torn apart.
Let us imagine the next chapter has arrived,
to paint our bleary minds pitch black
or a promising white.
Since dark is a vivid variation of light
And innocent eyes will take note of it.
We need to talk to lilies more
and see the devil in each sip of champagne
swallowed without a taste.
We need to cry more, and write of love
to quench the hell that echoes our pain
thrice more than it ought to...

There was a time I wanted to go home
Rainbow acid pop in my grip
and grilled chicken in my gut
a power to pull my lips sideways
for a wistful smile.
I lie now at the base of a grave
sharing my chicken with worms
and snakes!
And snakes with their ugly fangs
rob me off my pop
and the evergreen beauty I thought infinite
Lost in my eyes
gone with my tears.
The fair land of my heart
barren of any light to harvest,
And I'm degraded through the mocking
momentum of life..
If there was any path to home at all
One to the rainwashed windows
and one to the tender fall
I would go back and stand tall.
Left to the hands of time,
Right, it is lost! There is no path at all..

Spoonfed a mouthful of soft poems,
the pangs of unthanked love numb your heart
to fortify against the abrupt attack of truth;
That one feels is a weakness,
or if he does speak of it is a fool!
This is but an unhinging maze
to soak the mind in waves of guilt and despair
stagnant as a melted nightmare...
And thus, the heart believes it
only to begin to freeze forever more.

Once uopn a time, a lonely loving rose
bending with the wind, gentle in each pose
The meadow was green, and the sun aglow
Not a sign or gesture of pain and sorrow
Parakeets would sing and the rose flushed
Till the weary winter brushed past with a rush
And she stole anthems from love birds
A sigh was the last sound the meadow heard
young rose with all its roseness fresh and red
cut with its roots haunted as a captive held
To her doomsday she hauled, past a willow tree
Past that feigned majesty she was ordered to be
What about the blood ****** off her petals
Our mushy rose beaten like heavy metals
Soon she whispered to the cold ears of winter
What of it now, and passed with one last whimper.

Old friend, we lost it all!
We went our separate ways
While rain pummeled the rooftop
and mellow autumn wind caressed a poppy's cheek.
We drove home together, but felt far apart.
As if we never knew each other..
And the bond between us severed
As the lumberjack uproots a tree,
Merciless and mandatory!
Old friend,
Although I still hear the rustling of paper from your chamber,
Your heartbeat seems to have stopped
And your congealed blood reeks of hostility.
I sit here, hiding my head in my bony hands
Which you would hold as we fell asleep.
We were children at the time
innocent and whimsical.
We were captives of our own little kingdom
Funny how our fortress tumbled down
and we chained ourselves to the ruins that remained..
This is not how our stroy should have gone.
Tell me if there's anything I can do other than cry, miss those days
or pour my heart into a poem you'll never read...