Armour’s gone, yet I still feel protected
Though this time not by any cold steel,
But by something that is different -
Its color, warmth; the feeling, iridescence.
It lets me see clouds change through time,
And if that’s too slow for me, a plane passes.
It shows me where my wounds are,
And the very hands that wounded them -
         the words,
         the thoughts,                          
         the self.
It sets me a conversation with peace,
A dialogue with the keeper of time and space -
Where they hear my plea,
Change me. Make me better!
To which Fate smirks -
Oh? But that’s what you’ve been doing all along.

I wanted to ask you what you were afraid of,
When in reality it is I whom fear some thing.
I guess I just wanted to universalize the trope,
That such feeling is common for us living.

I suffer, once again, from the imagination,
Of the death of the ego, the shame of it all,
The inevitability embraced with anticipation,
Remains of the image come to finally fall.

Yet a part of me thinks it would be relief,
To go through the worst thing I can think,
It might usher me towards a new belief,
Remind of fleeting feelings - gone in a blink.

I take comfort in those I know, who knows me,
Especially the inner child in my mind and body,
I may die, but I will live, as it all should be,
For now, I’ll breathe in and out, and stay steady.

The life I created is about to pop,
Worse days are about to drop,
Seeing the end of the simulation,
What was was indeed an illusion.

I think I’ve forgotten how to dream,
My mind’s looping a silent scream,
Losing myself, feeling like a waste,
A sorry excuse for a life misplaced.

“Your sob story is not that special,
Stop being too **** sentimental,”
These I tell myself every waking day,
Figuring out how it is to, again, be okay.

“Just go and do something about it,”
So hard when I just really want to quit.
It feels I’m just watching myself from afar,
Seeing he’s given up in his personal war.

Maybe I’ll wake up soon and feel better,
Maybe I’ll dream again and find my center,
I don’t know when for I lost all my hope,
I’m no longer living for all I do now is cope.

Do not hate yourself tomorrow
For the choices you made today.
For now, yes, you did kowtow,
With the limited cards you can play.

In a few hours the sun will rise,
It’ll be another brand new day.
You may not be assured of a prize,
You’ve still got here, a place to stay.

Right now it doesn’t make sense,
But hey, ask yourself, what does?
Release oneself from all the tense,
No one really knows, what’s the fuss?

We are here and we gotta live,
Rebelliously, we do what we gotta do,
Embrace now and yourself forgive,
You’re doing you, through and through.

Did it hurt? When you realized the world owed you nothing?
That meritocracy is a myth and that doing good isn’t rewarded.
Does it sting? Waking up to a bad world order with no meaning,
Alive and breathing when you know you’re better off dead.

They would always say it’s our choices that define our little life,
In that case, maybe I chose wrong - all of it’s a mistake,
The joys are momentary but longer are the pain and strife,
One does his best to give for a world that only knows how to take.

I sometimes wonder if this examined life is actually better,
When knowing what you know only makes you suffer more.
Still trying to look for grace in the here and now where I hover,
When in reality, I just wanna find and cross an exit door.

Faces, faces, oh I've seen a lot of faces,
They come, they go, some stick, some shrink,
Daydreaming... asking what are the chances,
We'd bump anew and have our glasses clink.

Glad to know such feeling is still possible,
With nullity having been the default norm,
Still I think I remain visibly incapable,
Unsure what to do, ignorant how to perform.

Made me smile nonetheless, that face,
A warranted sight, a break for the monotony,
If that was it, all the same I got to gaze,
Hey, see you maybe, see you maybe.

Gabi na naman - oras na ng pagpikit,
Muling matutulog ng may maraming ‘bakit?’
Patuloy na naghahanap ng kahulugan,
Sa mundong kawalan ay naglalaglagan.

Babangon ulit sa bukas na ‘di tiyak,
Malungkot man ay wala ng maiyak,
‘Di rin alam kung nais pa ba ‘tong mabago,
Lahat naman ng buhay ay ‘di sigurado.

Ngayon ay aalalay na lang sa alon,
Sa dala nitong hampas at daluyong,
Baka bukas makalawa sinong mag-aakala,
Magigising nang nasa payapang dalampasigan na

Coming home as everything’s through,
With lights going off after the party,
Surrounded with silence; it dawns to you,
After the ecstasy comes the ordinary.

Tomorrow, the normal, the mundane,
Back to the grocery, back to the laundry,
Elevated then pulled back to what’s plain,
After the ecstasy, there will be the ordinary.

We took some chance to feel something,
Knowing we’ll soon retreat to what’s dreary,
With a smile, we accept the feeling,
After the ecstasy, we welcome the ordinary.

I have learned to love life again,
Through friends, through strangers.
They are me and I am them,
In loving the other, I’ve loved I better.

Each year, the highest of highs,
Each year, the lowest of lows,
A lot of hello’s, a number of goodbye’s
Letting Time do its natural flow.

In between death jokes and dark humor,
I found myself being able to write again,
I wake up smiling in front of the mirror,
Thankful, for in him, I made my closest friend.

At peace today, excited for tomorrow,
I will walk deeper, further and farther
No longer will I dread what, in this life, would follow,
I say bring it on - watch me love harder.

Times like this one makes me think of our humanity,
How each and everyone of us are poetries being written.
And though we share some verses, some similarity,
I understand better now our plot's randomly given.

Forgive me for the moments I told you not to be sad,
Just because my mind argued I had things way worse,
Or when I secretly envied the life I imagined you had,
The unhealthy projections, actions that were perverse.

We are our own planets, rotating and revolving,
Carefully treading the universes where we roam.
When the moment comes and we collide, time-willing,
I'll hold your hand, let's agree to walk each other home.

Today marked another ‘Day 1’,
Of missing the presence of its absence,
Knowing more of nothing is I want,
Fogging up my mind, muting my senses.

Maybe it is the unwanted clarity,
That makes me fear this sobriety,
The drop, the flow, the gush,
Flooded, I find myself always awash.

I’ve wiped every corner of my space,
Clipped nails of my fidgety fingers,
Out of the windows I’ll always gaze,
Sit back at the sofa and there I’ll linger.

These times are moments to ponder,
Is this a preview of the rest of the days?
Still grateful though that I could still wonder,
Hoping for tomorrow’s much better ways.

It’s been three moons since I bought some freedom,
With my days starting getting soaked in the sunlight,
Feeling the crawling warmth of a new day’s blossom,
Looking at the Sierra Madre - calmness in sight.

Filling myself with smokes and coffee for breakfast,
Getting ready for the worlds I’ll enter and visit,
Living in fictions of future, present, and past,
Vicariously leading varied characters’ spirit.

Witnessing the world continue when you hit pause,
A sensation that is both humbling and confusing,
While it’s liberating to have no any kind of boss,
I sometimes question if I could still do some thinking.

In the long run I know I’ll surely thank myself,
For allowing this mind and body to breathe for a while,
It is true that within you you’ll find one true help,
Each day’s culminated with a gracious smile.

A practice in solitude despite feelings of being afraid,
I just remind myself of what Seneca once said himself,
“What progress, you ask, have I made?
I have begun to be a better friend to myself.”

Theoretically, I am drowning in love,
But how come I can’t seem to feel it?
All I see is what others have
Those who seemingly have figured it out.

Each day, a reminder of everyone’s variance,
Acknowledgement of multiple valid paths,
But how can I make it make sense,
That mine’s pretty hard to get at?

I thought I’ve freed up myself
Believed I’ve got no more chains,
Yet seeing other “freedom” I just can’t help,
Question myself, put me under strain.

I know I shouldn’t think I’m broken,
Neither something that needs to be fixed,
But that which is experienced often,
Remains the ones that stick.

How do I reconcile my non-specialty,
With the thought that everyone is deserving?
When the world shows your incapability,
How do you manage your feelings?

I am tired of pity parties,
As the narrative stays the same.
Still searching for realities,
Where life seems to not be lame.

When’s have always been reminders of solitude,
Cementing two and half decades of a fact,
That humanity, in its entire multitude,
Seemed to miss the better half of your story’s act.

Thus, you leapt; thus, you lost and learned,
Not once was the game won, not even close,
And you settle with consolation you think you earned;
Proceed with the radical acceptance of aloneness.

For how long, for now I cannot tell,
As it is both within and not in my control,
Here’s to hoping this treaty with oneself goes well,
It could be or perhaps nothing at all.

Lie down with your thoughts and inquire,
"From when were you? How did you come to be?"
Listen to the orchestra of the faintest beats on fire,
A happening called you, an entirety you can't see.

Be curious of oneself, be the self's genius,
In sitting, in thinking, in acting,
Identify and find what is obvious,
Figure out yourself on your own timing.

Second guessing leads to validation,
Of what, in the interim, you are,
Take it all in and remember this position,
Nowhere near but you've come so far.

Refine the self-conversations you chime in,
Replace the old daydreams with new ones,
To others you will seem a little disappointing,
Eagerly forgive yourself for these future bygones.

To wait actively is to follow an imperative,
Be disturbed, be dismayed, be downtrodden.
For today you have chosen life - so live,
Take comfort in knowing all will be forgotten.

What gives out authenticity
Leaning towards unfiltered reality?
Tell me how can I see
That I and they say is the real me?

A being governed by time
A soul separated from the divine
Annointed keeper of the self
Posturing as the impression of depth.

Indifferent towards the apparent terminus
Compact strides with the daily onus
Drifting on interim spaces
Figuring out the rest of the ages.

I think we underestimate how overwhelming it is,
Unknowingly hiding under absurdism and comedy,
Climbing clockwork cliffs for some inner peace,
Trying to find clarity in the muddled nows of tragedy.

Deep breaths for another duplicate of tonight,
Making sense of waking moments as we see some light.
Asking oneself, "Are these feelings right?,"
Given varied consciousness of the same plight?

Slowly we try to make space for some needed nothing,
Catch some air, look at some greens, and just surrender.
The fleck that challenged the universe started learning,
Be reminded that no one narrative is greater nor lesser.

Tonight is a happening of an ever-changing now,
Live it, ride it, rule it in ways you know how.
Give in to reasoned and reckoned submission,
Walk towards the collision of the warranted delusion.

An affirmation of distance of what is and what needs to be,
No wonder one sees and feels similar sequences.
That which lives privy haven't yet been freed,
The self is pretty far from effectuating further phases.

"It started a new daydream nonetheless,"
An old line proving pragamatic in the contemporary.
Followed by a sudden halt, the endless pause pressed,
Cave in, yield, and wait for things to be once more arbitrary.

We'll wake up and count the sum of the days,
How what was months before was now in full tilt.
Let a new day take over as time surely pays,
As an exhilirative eventuality is bit by bit being built.

A bridge no one crosses becomes a statue of solitude,
A reminder that a form is purposeless sans its essence.
Sudden waves come as a legion, a multitude,
Overwhelming you with matters that yet again seem to make no sense.

Perhaps it was the imagination of the crossing that ruined it,
Or might be the region where it was mistakenly built.
The structure is here now and waiting for its fate,
Will it be a picture of what could be or will it be a realized gate?

Time will pass and it will certainly grow old,
We can maintain it or let rust reach its core.
Whatever happens, stories will be told,
If the thing was a bridge, speculating what it was for.

Not feeling myself these couple of yesterdays,
As if I don't puzzle in well in my own mold.
Looking for the blur that once was of praise,
Stuck in a form pretending to be wise and old.

I think I need what was for what will be,
Ah; the agony of existing between then and now.
Wondering if this mind will ever be free,
To actually relearn the whys and a few hows.

Why do I seem like a tragedy waiting to happen?
A fire that is continuously being put out?
Half the universe of ideas the mind did sharpen,
Are those of tiny voices shut when want to shout.

"It's all in my head, it's all in my head,"
As I try to breathe and attempt to calm myself up.
Close my eyes and go to the familiarity of the bed,
Just to wake up anticipating that one big drop.

We are aware of time, we are aware of our youth,
But why is it still hard to see some hope?
This is bothersome, that's the truth,
Have you seen us? Improvising life to cope?!

We let minutes pass by knowing it's wasted,
Had a thought, had a plan, but held up,
By that which keeps anxiety sedated,
More, higher, stronger -- never enough.

Getting through the day, impostor,
Beaming both sappy smirks and so-so smiles,
Noting, jotting, moving from door-to-door,
Mixing memories and imagination of miles!

Light shines, light enters, lights, eyes,
The day commences and you convince yourself,
Whether have a breakfast of lies,
Or try, and give onself some good help.

Could it be problem sleeping
When sleeping is the problem?
What if the actual dozing
Is the source of the whole mayhem?

After nighttime, sunrises,
Lights up yet fails to beam up one's day,
Instead, probes your supposed places,
A fertile loam where anxiety can play.

I don't know what I'm waiting for,
Still I wait for it anyway.
May I find ways towards humor,
Maybe life and I can meet halfway.

Is this what ought to be,
Are these the sights I wanna see?
Is this how I wanna feel,
Each day the sunrise turns real?

This was dreamland of yesteryears,
Now a solid ground for hope and fears.
Young and stupid or old and wise?
Breathe; and tell yourself what applies.

Live; and remember these days,
This surely is a way how a story plays.
Gravitate towards your center,
There are new places we're about to enter.

And the thought arrived and it demanded to be written,
As if it was some nation’s citizen deserving of life and liberty,
Still we see our fingers working, our thoughts spreading,
Thus we succumb, thus we surrender, thus we write.

The ideal is known as sitting under a tree, running through forest,
Grasping for air yet losing it all on undying laughter,
Was it something I said or is it because this is my first time?
Convincing myself I have stopped thinking about it yet here we are.

These pillows have lived in parallel universes and realities,
Looking far wondering, “Is this how they see us? How they feel?”
With lofi beats as soundtrack of this rainy  and chilly afternoon,
We were reminded yet again of whom we’ve been.

And so thoughts will keep on demanding, will keep on arriving,
It’s for us to stitch them to a larger narrative — not snippets but cores,
This way we will know who we will be because of them good old days,
When you find yourself sitting on a different, yet emotionally familiar place.

Thank you society for ******* me — us — hard
Indeed, no one dies a ****** with you around
Thank you for the cornucopia of insecurity
For the endless seeds of doubts magnified
For the fragility we have chosen not to guard
Pitting us alikes ‘til you have curated your sound
Pulling us deeper and chains us in self-pity
Knowing that we’ll never be surely makes you satisfied
Then alas you get to blame us for our own shards
Managing to scar us despite being on ground
Turned us into strangers in our own city
Leaving us with nothing — not even being dignified

I am happy but I am envious
As it hit me once again who I am
Isn’t at par with the life I wanna live
Should dreaming be actually encouraged
In a society that sets up barriers
Chained with institutionalized cherry picking
Directing someone else’s life

I sleep I will awake — gasping for more time
Safe moments on bed — alone, yes
Defeated by them sneaky dark dogs around
They are silent but they are surely heard
Floods you with thoughts you’d wanna bury
Fighting with words yet immortalizing how it is
With seals weak, only a sec ‘til it barks again

How can you riddle out that which has no logic
Luck and tyranny rules the playing field
Fed with the ****** up and ****** imagery
That makes one appreciate someone less
By looking more than listening, knowing
How have I ended up here on this forsaken time
Will I ever or could I ever build a life of rhyme

I taste of ash -- of something burnt,
Takes me sub-atomic through wrinkles in time.
Perhaps that explains the right shoulder's pain,
Or the blood from the spit flushed down the drain.

You've been drinkin', smokin', well, wastin'
The thought came to fruition.
Good old limbo knocks and gets all comfortable,
Leave -- like how we know are able.

Find a way to shake universe's hand,
Without fire and heat, in enclosed spaces of insecurity,
Be able to find yourself in somewhere new,
A place in your thoughts you've always known to be true.

We believe we have reached some level of efficiency,
As we are a bit more able in thinking about things,
Or so we believe? Or so we believe.
Now rhythm is less more of a containment.

Yes we saw more and did some things new,
Yet still are left optimistic, idealistic —
Pretty much left under their magic,
Yet needed to be acknowledged is how they unintendedly made you better.

Sadness and inadequacy still incites some inner soul intersection,
With the rest of joy, excitement, thrill, warmth, — that rare air,
A bit more disciplined is what we think we have arrived at,
Waiting to be fired at any moment — to take us to either thinking or nothing at all.

Less we forget to remind ourselves that we are what we’ve been looking for,
Let you be the proof of the fragility and vulnerability, of the strength and the beauty,
Every here on out has been leaps of faith to lives of uncertainty,
Still we smoke and have a laugh, get drunk and **** — live to see and try.

Though the prequel might be notes,
This one deserves to be written.
Little changes in one’s post,
Wondering how to waltz from three to seven.

The valentine on Thursday,
Was, now is, but for how long?
Are we ready for what comes one day,
When we’ll listen and hear a new song.

The quirks and uncertainties are adorable,
Warmth, comfort, a sense of familiarity,
Bathing in dopamine of every world able,
Live ‘til we see and move in a different city.

New data comes in and refined
Using past encounters and memories alike
Critiques the story’s every side
To assign a meaning that should be right
A thought that usually needs more than one head’s light
Seeks to be processed by the one who writes.

Should it even be written?
Where one shows up and ticks boxes,
Only to sweet talk you,
And never be.

Indeed, another lesson learned,
Processing is more manageable —
Let’s hope at the very least —
We’ll get by and get through sooner.

Now there’s a bit more understanding,
Managed realities, in touch with ‘The’,
Surely it will be yet another phantom limb,
Etched, appreciated, in his own special bed.

It may be pretty early to tell,
Who we think we were before.
Just due to the time we think was spent well,
Still a thought we know belongs to our core.

It’s odd and introspective to say the least,
Meeting ourselves through others we meet.
We remember how with the times we did feast,
Ending days feeling like nothing but dumb ****.

The “weird” attachment during the first sight,
Is something we think may not be right,
Yet those days when we thought we could fight,
Ideas sounded badass and bright.

The unwillingness of the touch that we give,
Nonchalance and indifference it is.
I say this will help us truly forgive,
What was — to that which felt bliss.

Now we have met who we were,
We learn how the mind of that stranger goes.
As that who was unknown was made clear and bare,
We appreciate that life’s taught by some semblance of loss.

What was is know what is to you,
The role has changed and so did you,
So now we collect and study every clue,
The you that will be complete and true.

Does it really need some counsel --
What you think merits a discussion?
Or a surge of validation as they do tell --
Poking fun on your mind’s imagination.
There is a need to cross this certain level
As near the end is a lemon-scented creation.

Options are not just the old old and new,
But of perceived passion, service, or stability
Answers that lead to the next you,
Duty or happiness – which will be pretty?
Go on and find one more true hue,
Learn your ways and know thyself in this dichotomy.

It was another journey to write a story
So we unify with all the parts defeating gaps
Then we heard songs that were keys to the sunrise
That was blinding yet was just about to be

We welcome our guests for some chats
Hearing your thoughts with full clarity
That one of the reasons why
As it is just part of your long allegory

Like the dawn I also realized one thing
That is yet to be stronger echoing back
That voice that will call the commonality
And on that day -- we will all be free

My brain is on overdrive metathinking,
Knowing that these thoughts don’t matter.
Still, let me share how that harmless phrase marked my being,
As you’ve pulled me back from a place of feeling better.

Now I see them again — the imperfections,
How something will always be missing from me.
How cold I will feel in seasons and situations,
Those weird quirks I wish would leave and let me be.

You have stolen hours of my bedtime,
In an age when rest is rare and richer when real.
Freed a dark thought from my mind,
That wanders around striking mountains of sad deals.

I was no longer fighting for anyone,
Yet you managed to remind me that I have lost.
I really thought that the worst me has long been gone,
Yet on the mirror I see myself as clear and as cold as a ghost.

Now his face appears in the darkness again,
As I drift back to the shadows of night.
Those words started another one of my heaviest rains,
One that takes time to see even just a flicker of light.

kamusta ka?
kamusta araw mo?
ah ganun ba..
ako din
bawal madaya!
just play along
yaan mo na yun!
kumain ka na?
ligo lang ako
nakita mo na ba yung post?
***** tayo
dito na ako
saya no?
next time ulit
i like this

The new normal feels similar but not quite,
It’s a little bit of what was with what might be.
With it being neither wrong nor right,
It’s also full of what is and todays, the self now - me.

Indeed there’s the sensation of nothingness and everything,
Fluctuating yet definitely not flatlining.
The waves are complementing and not cancelling,
With it brings a whole new kind of vibe and ring.

As this is temporary, a trial, some sort of planned practice,
I hope to learn what I need to.
May I find some semblance of real and actual peace,
As, in this hole, I jump and hopes to come through.

we become the guy who walks up the rooftop to smoke
after sneaking some happiness inside the loo
embraced by and paranoid about the darkness and shadows
breezing as you puff your cigarette
feeling calm and light
the sky is based with an ocean at night
with a blanket of purple smoke
silhouettes of life around
you hear yourself again
we hear distant cars and busy streets

from the rooftop we have chosen to walk up to

Sapagkat ngayon ay matututo tayo sa mga bagay na 'di natin maintindihan,
Kakapit tayo sa mga talinhagang kahit ang mga pilosopo ay hirap sa pagpapaliwanagan.
Susubok at susugal sa bukas na walang kasiguraduhan,
Sabay aasa sa pangako ng isang tunay na hinaharap na makakamtan.

Dahil ang damdamin ay nakaalpas na sa paghangad,
Ngayo'y may sinusundang tahakin na mas marapat.
Saya at ligaya para at ng sa iba sa isipa'y nailapat,
Mga naisin at mithiin ay nauunawaang hindi agad-agad.

Ngayon ay marapat na mabuhay sa kasalukuyan,
Damhin ang ligaya, kalungkutan, at lahat ng sa gitna'y mararamdaman,
Sa buhay, sarili natin ang ating tangan,
Balang araw, kung anuman, ay ating mahahagkan.

Whilst we were taught how to identify metaphors and other figures of speech,
It is wise to be conscious where these devices don’t exist.
As commanded by nature, we may not know when to stop to leech,
On a barren land which whole story is nothingness in gist.

There may be some times when blue is melancholy, sky, or peace,
Yet most of the time, blue is just blue — it is what it is.
Be cautious of perceived cues and don’t read what isn’t to be read,
Especially on a book that the author never lent.

The thirst for knowledge and hunger for answers will always itch,
Trying to fight its way to live and address all what ifs,
Be wise, be discerning, be a fool in playing your game,
As the new or next chapter may be a boon or a bane.

Kailan kaya tititigil, hihinto, mawawala?
Ang mga Gabriela na ating nakikilala?
Isang ideya na kay hirap tapusin, kitilin, hawiin,
Nasa looban ay may markang nagdiin.

Nawa’y patuloy nga ating paglakas,
Nang sa susunod ay wala sa isip ang pagtakas,
Bagkus ay kapayapaan at kaliwanagan,
Ang pupuno nang higit sa kaisipan.

Kung malamig lamigin,
Kung mainit mainitan,
Basta sa susunod ay may kumot,
Pamaypay nang mahanganinan.

Magbabago rin pagkat mawawala ang mga Gabriela,
Paglahong walang pasabi ngunit may ganda,
Sa langit natin lahat ay natutuwa,
Nahanap na. Nahanap na.

Creating realities after realities is a nice practice,
A bit dangerous as well when done myopically.
The ability to empathize to points of others’ specificity,
Writes a narrative now more than one can see.

We take our blinders off,
And open the doors of the world.
Be cautious in listening to the self alone,
For other beats may give you a better rhythm.

Why remain the protagonist
In an epic of false dichotomies?
When you can be no one
In a prose that makes sense arguably?

A step back is a mere change of direction,
Nothing is similar as fire may be the basic stuff of the universe.
Breathe the air of the proverbially found boys,
Yet be sharp to be conscious of the notes you hear that you enjoy.

It started as a counterfactual,
A means to test a personal theory of change,
Assessed which thoughts had the turn to be vocal,
Decided to give space for the ones on the positive range.

One must learn how to drench oneself in the sea of light,
Just how one dives in the depth of darkness.
One must acknowledge that warmth is possible,
In the same way that cold is inevitable.

How to sustain is a problem for another day,
What’s vital is to live where we are, when we are.
Let the the twists of the many plots roll and play,
Yes, we are near; and yes, we are far!

We learn who we are by knowing who we are not,
We try, we risk, we take a chance,
We may not have the others’ lot,
We still have some rhythm for our personal dance.

Unload yourself with the romanticized fiction,
Listen to the voices that truly matter.
Focus on a worthwhile direction,
Surprise yourself as you go farther and further.

When does age stop being an excuse?
To be dumb and to be fool?
How do we show that this brain was, indeed, did put to use?
For reasons not to just be in nor to just be cool?

Why do I even put thoughts into this?
Not as if it matters or for anything it means?
Is it hope for some improbable bliss?
Do we film would-never be seen scenes?

Perhaps it’s pride that dictate us,
To look sharp and smart as how they branded us,
Yet for a time could they give us a pass?
Allow some growth that isn’t a pity fuss?

For some reasons there’s a need to impress,
As past actions missed a stretch for one’s consideration,
Let me show that I am not a total mess,
That I, too, am a driven addition.

Provide me some chances to show,
That I am better than what you think you know,
I am navigating my way through this world,
Let me be and who I am unfold.

Ideas are bulletproof that is why they are harder to win over,
Especially when affirming instances come one after the other.
The body succumbs while the mind knows better,
Hopping from one stone to the other hoping we get to a constant somewhere.
Throbbing wind whispers a beep,
Rushing cars swooshing their trip,
Her voice looking at me knowingly,
“You know it but here’s the story.”
The high improbability and the comparisons,
The stretch that echoes unfounded sounds,
The conversation that could’ve been,
Shall and must remain as a romanticized fiction,
Started, peaked, jumped, risked, failed, hoped, failed, and left for the conclusion.
As you have absolutely no choices,
To raise your eyes and ears is something to give your best.
Everyone’s kinda moving,
It’s not a race but for everyone the road is ending.
I would still have that grin, whisper, and crookedness,
Inasmuch as nothing of those are even close to any semblance of realness.
I must remain the best parts of what I have to offer,
A refined, mature, swaying, itching, panacea of everything you wish I wish I could cater.

You do weird things when you don’t know what to do,
Like to refuse a kiss just because something will see what you do,
Or offer a hug that will be awkward for the two of you.
You try to figure **** out,
Seeking multiple advice without doubt,
With ultimately following your instincts all throughout.
I should not but, I apologize as I feel that is how interest feels like,
As if you were to plunge as your training wheels were pulled out of the bike,
Or that thing in your stomach when you are to speak in crowds and are given the mic.
I’d say I shouldn’t have done it,
Yet saying that would mean nothing as I feel no guilt,
I am learning — creating the me that I know and feel I can be built.
Oh, but hey, that doesn’t mean that if given the chance I won’t take,
To go at it again for fun and freedom’s sake,
Let’s do it and enjoy being each other’s mistake.

I fear the day that I start learning,
As knowing will eventually make me stop caring.
Well I am afraid I have no choices,
I just have to play and jump through the phases.

While nothing is wrong with changing,
I don't want to lose the sense of my being.
We hope we turn out better,
So we have something good saved for later.

Out of sight, out of mind,
May some peace we eventually find.
We seek hoping we're sought,
At least we'd say we fought.

The world is a series of Plato's cave,
Where one tries to free thyself every now and then.
Each time thereafter we hope we come out brave,
Battling all lions in the previous den.

Every time we get out, we become different,
Our understanding is broadened,
Definitions aren't always what they meant,
Connotations continuously append.

How many times have we said, "I know better now,"
Just to be slapped with something we thought we knew.
We might have a semblance of the answer to "How?"
Yet iterations immerse us to the world anew.

For today, I say that I see clearer - again,
Only now am I equipped with other nuances.
This knowledge might be obsolete in near time dear friend,
But now I acknowledge to comprehend all the processes.

While it's true that I have seen blue,
I have yet to see cerulean, cyan, and prussian.
And while I know red as I believe I've seen it's hue,
I have yet to discover carnelian, persian, and venetian.

We take stock of what we've experienced,
Build on the foundations that we have made.
Someday, sometime, somehow, it will make sense,
One day, we will be able to identify and act on every shade.

We are now back to regular programming,
Plugged back in the normal curve of our every day.
The high from the pill is rapidly wearing off,
Proactively looking for a more stable source.
I have arrived to the conclusion that I have to find someone like me:
The sender of the first message,
The one who cares more,
The half in a better half.
I am trying this thing called vulnerability,
To learn all possible probabilities.
The thrill-seeking, trigger-happy one,
Plunges to the void right after the day is done.
To find someone like me would mean I can be like them --
Like them but better.
Though who am I to cast verdicts on personality,
As the grand cosmos is something all of us cannot see.
The downward spiral wants to be freed,
Enlightenment is what we need.
Get through the day, the week, the month, the year or so,
Get through Time
As Time is the ancient incantation for liberty,
We know we can and some time we will be.