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.

So it was done,
To the scarlet universe we’ve seen.
With a few only have been,
Cementing it before it’s gone.

The patience was noted,
The sight was magnificent,
The reality we just bent,
The fusion that deserves to be applauded.

Now what ought to do?
To warp to such beauty again?
Still gotta visit that special den,
To be light, to be pure, to be true.

For the pessimist is never disappointed,
I choose not to be excited about things that could happen.
Better to have thoughts unelevated,
Than a mind lifted only to be misshapen.

At first there was the struggle,
A storm succeeded with perceived freedom.
But now the walls quashed spread a rubble,
Helpless, we feel like we're left to be dumb.

No more downs, but no ups either,
Plateaued in a flatline trapped in time.
Thinking if an examined life is indeed better,
Or if ignorance is just an unexplored yet beautiful paradigm.

We dive back to not feeling a thing,
To guard our fragile, yet strongly projected, existence.
Although uncertain how long we can cling,
To ultimately be presented with the gift of presence.

Perception has always been people's reality,
What we see is what we mainly look for.
We leave good probabilities for an ideal possibility,
Putting an 'open' sign in front of a closed door.

Today, the social voices are louder,
Where the old rich are still deities and privileged trends are gods,
We fall prey to what they cater,
Wishfully hoping that we're favored by the odds.

Addicted to the momentary high of a 'match',
Eyes glued to a notification of a new tap.
Everyone believes they are a catch,
Idols deserving of all the world's slow clap.

The now is defined by open button downs,
Pushed back hair and pumped up arms.
Jeans are tight, matched with shoes that are brown,
Anything out of place will trigger an alarm.

How can the average hopeless romantic fight,
When wit and wisdom sums up his might?
He sips his wine during the night,
Closing his eyes halfheartedly wishing to see a new light.

He has many reasons to be happy,
Yet he's looking for something that can make him smile.
It may sound really petty,
But for this, he's ready to walk another mile.

We are tired of not dying, of merely existing,
Looking for perceived purpose and minute meaning.
One wonders when one can start living genuinely free,
One hopes to learn how it feels to be.

You know for yourself that this is nothing new,
That this is just an iteration of the cycle you've been to.
Yet it stings no less than the past encounters,
As this imagined reality cemented another universe.
You understand that misfit puzzles will never match,
It is not for you to decide if you are a rare good catch.

A glass half-filled is that, a glass half-filled,
No matter the thirst, don't settle for no less than fulfilled.
This is not being disparaging as this is for you,
For them, for everyone, for that person, too.
Though be warned as sometimes something is good enough,
Yet we miss on it and to search again is tough.

Never bathe in a potentiality that isn't actualized,
Nor in a dream with possibility that will never be realized.
Let us hope that this shall just pass through,
Be like some past things you outgrew.
We frown for a possibility that will never be,
Yet we smile for a stronger you that we now see.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He is the type, but for things that matter, he can't be fun.
Listens to stories and shares sentiments,
Yet following oneself is totally out of his element.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
When sad, he clings to anyone who shows even the slightest of emotion.
Maybe he thinks he does not deserve the real thing,
As the twisted idea of happiness escapes his whole being.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He creates a world in his mind where endless joy is there to run.
Even it is with someone he had just met,
That is something, from John, we could expect.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He knows, feels, that he will just be shunned.
Which should be okay as such is not out of the ordinary,
But he just feels extra tired and **** weary.

There is something fundamentally wrong with John.
He just wants to be happy but he feels like he is banned.
From his own thoughts and dangerous mind,
He always falls short and is perpetually left behind.

Proximity tends to mess with the mind,
It brews a concoction dangerous for fleeting times.
Paints a reality that is improbable to find,
Essence searching for where it rhymes.

For I thought you're past pretty boys,
Though I wasn't built to outwit a superior combination,
Maybe this is just one of fate's ploys,
Natural order just being set in motion.

Nonetheless, the feeling was beyond liberating,
As it proved that I can start doing without caring.
Joy is something I understand is worth aiming,
Kinda makes me akin to what they call 'believing.'

Now we live it as it is, as this is matching hypothesis,
We live to dream another day.
I still hope life is worth having in this crisis,
Together we wait for a tomorrow that will be there to stay.

We always look for a chill pill,
For the cravings we can never satiate --
So we could get close and feel
How one's sun can radiate.

Bliss is what it brings,
Enslaved by cheap highs,
Despite knowing that it stings,
It escapes us from our sighs.

Now we puzzle in misfit pieces,
Weaving universes in lost time,
We see the future graced with non-existence,
We see rhythm that will never rhyme.

We bid sorry to another probability,
Give up on a possibility we dare not disturb,
Hoping Time can set us free,
Wishing the free spirit not to remain in curb.

It started a new daydream nonetheless,
Those resting motions welcomed with vibration.
The heat on the back that pressed,
Is a feeling beyond sensation.

Thought the twist was possible,
Yet nope I say so.
It was rational to think it was probable,
No regrets though for putting a go.

Watch me learn I warn,
I hope I don’t get pulled to something nasty,
‘Cause when it’s time to run,
I’ll leap through space and time in ecstasy.

You can never be too happy, can you?
Like after finding your way from 1 to 2
Thinking, feeling, knowing,
There's a 3 at the ceiling.

It never stops, the universe.
Cosmic nonsense, in poetic verses.
To which you are a mere subject,
A thing that it can easily eject.

The hands rolled 'that' wise,
What's done will be forever precise.
Etched in fashion that marked,
That none can tear it apart.

Don't be too joyous next time, I say,
Less you wish to see a darker day.
To be quite happy must do fine,
Seek no more and it'll start a rhyme.

Often, we learn not to accept,
Rather, how to live with things.
The structures that were left,
Are ruins marking memory of feelings.

Before you, you see what was,
What will never be.
Hoping each day it'll pass,
From pain, one be free.

You wake up and convince yourself,
Drown life with distractions.
Tomorrow, you won't get help,
Letting the autopilot be set in motion.

For whatever its worth,
You survived before.
But just because you've fought,
Absence of sting isn't assured for.

One day, this pillow will have a different name.
My dreams will cast a different face.
Yet for now, I know that this situation will remain the same.
Am just hoping for a faster pace.

I will be able to close my eyes and think of a new ‘you.’
Smell the morning and remember a more joyful view.
But for now, it’s your scent I recall,
And to your maze I fall.

Don’t get me wrong as I’ve done this before,
This isn’t new — no need for your sympathy.
Though I’m certain your thoughts wander other shores,
Not minding nor thinking about me.

It's bizarre how you can hear yourself even when you're not speaking,
Amidst the calming breeze of rain and busy rush of the streets.
There are nights when you can choose to color your world and narrate an epic through free hand poetry.
The shape is indefinite but the words flow.
The hues are fading yet they meet halfway.
You throw the why's in your brain even if you know the answers.
Is there a reason for lives that were touched?
"There is," we convince ourselves.
The sense waits.
The song must start anew.

Why do we dream of things that will never be?
Why do we pretend to see visions that will never be seen?
Why do we say we won't if we will?
Why do we tear up for spaces we can't fill?

It's how we say we don't feel,
How our peripheral vision roam,
Sad that it'll never be,
Remembered as past vision.

Somebody tell me how this'll be the last,
And I'll promise a life of bliss.
Aid me and save me from this seeming lust,
Just pull me back, I'm begging please.

Should there be guilt in evolving dreams?
Must we apologize to our younger selves for wanting different things?
The universe isn't how it seemed.
We have seen wider and wider rings.

Our aspirations are changing,
And the thoughts are scary.
To what will we anchor our feelings?
Longing for some assurance and stability?

Yet we can't blame our mind,
Finding new questions to every answers retrieved.
To the Forward we can't hide,
As such is the only thing feasible we can achieve.

The past is a place we can never be,
While tomorrow is a possibility.
It's easier to dream of being 25 when you're 20;
But never 29 when you're 30.

We will always want something different,
Bigger, more, always at the comparative degree.
May these possibilities be met,
And may the soulless be free.

How likely is it for two glances to see each other?
In a crowded space, in a sea of strangers?
You knew I was somehow familiar,
That's why I tried to make the conversation more real.

Then you approached with a formal greeting,
Which I warmed up in a moment I knew was fleeting.
Were you shaky or uneasy during that time?
Or do we just go and blame it all on the wine?

As orators, I understand the art.
I listened with the mind, a little guidance from the heart.
Hoping that I am not putting much thought into this,
Convincing thyself not to read through the passing bliss.

They should care, shouldn't they?
I am speaking my mind.
Witty. Opinionated. Bold.
And you (not) tell me no hearts?
In a sea of eyes, no one saw.
Bed of shoulders I can't lean on.
Cave of ears that only gave me an echo.
Hello?
Am I?
Are we alone? Together? At the same time?
Mindless and lifeless taps of filtered and augmented reality;
In search for fame for established credibilty.
Are my thoughts mine?
Or does this collective psyche trivializes the special rhyme?
Save.

The task is to make you feel how I miss you beyond the three words.
I'm lost as to how to do that.
Perhaps let me just describe the things I yearn.
The uneasy lips that are either inexperienced or apprehensive.
The sudden pull of your arms when I am about to let go.
Those eyes seeing through me as you gaze silently.
The warmth of your body as it glides through my mortal secrecies.
The way you pronounce my name.
Your arms around me like the world could care less.
Your feet talking to my feet in language they only understand.
The sound of your breath -- a mixture of exhaustion and ecstasy.
The care, the cuddle, the comfort.

Though I might be romanticizing.

All I wanted to say is that I miss you.

I
For the best time to learn how to swim is when you are drowning,
The right moment to live is when you feel you’re dying,
Be not afraid of the unfamiliar, of uncertainties,
That are disguised in forms of hundreds of questions and opportunities.

II
The life we live is a series of narratives,
Of wins, of losses, of growing seeds and falling leaves.
Be prepared for plot twists and guest characters,
As your role will change from each time and thereafter.

III
You will feel happiness and other emotions from time-to-time,
Things that will puzzle you and leave you wondering where’s the rhyme,
All I can say is take comfort in fleeting times you’re feeling lost,
For it only means you know where you want to go -- a destination you’re about to cross.

IV
The uncharted waters might feel unsafe, risky, and sketchy,
Tread them carefully as on the other side are liberties.
Anxious? Stressed? Or perhaps startled and confused?
These are feelings signalling evolution that are being put to use.

V
Be excited to the places you will go and people you will meet.
Give everything, a wave, a smile, a meaningful greet!
You are destined to meet the You’s who are just about to be,
Greatness and possibilities are just some of what you are to see.

VI
Regrets will be in place as they will always be part of this epic,
The ones which will hurt the least on your deathbed must be the ones picked.
Remember that a day in your life when you will ask yourself questions will come,
I wish that you’d be able to answer and forgive yourself for everything you didn’t become.

Who would have thought the night would end that way?
Two unexpected twists in one narrative.
Maybe I, probably not everyone, was too up there in the sky,
That filters did tire and did leave.
It was an evening of spontaneity,
Everything was just free.
About time to celebrate some liberty,
To all pleasures, no one should feel guilty.
And although I repeatedly said that,
"I really don't know how it works,"
I still have to thank you that bad,
For in that moment you took me to a different world.
I guess I won't know what ****** you,
I guess I shouldn't care,
It was a night that didn't reach past two,
Yet still hours we did share.
While I am guilty of thinking of someone else while we were kissing,
I hope you felt that something was still missing.
But 20 is far from 5,
There's still a lot to do to strive.
"Don't settle," you said,
I think I'd follow.
New wisdom I have to be fed,
No more will I be shallow and hollow.

I would like to believe that someday I will find my way home.
A place, no, a feeling that I can emphatize with wholeheartedly.
Somewhere where my skin fits perfectly free to roam,
Where tears that stream down would end abruptly.
A man is free to dream to be with whom he wants to be,
Perhaps in heavens of whispers on secret room escapades,
Or on the free road with festive decors that lets an unending flow of glee,
Bursts of joy that would make someone hopeless feel saved.
The waves of the oceans of uncertainties will be crashed,
By the roots and foundation of courage and liberty,
The winds of shame will be hushed,
It is time for the well of hatred, imprisonment, and drama to feel thirsty.
All in good time will we reach the moon ever evasive,
We aren't fools who won't stand true to what we desire.
We are what we are - purposive.
We are everything except people who tire.

Would you have wanted to know the colors of the sky
Just to let them fade and from your hands fly?
Is it better to know how jazz sounds like
And never hear it from any other mic?
Was the warmth of the ember worth it
Knowing you'll live in the cold and never again feel the heat?
Do you find the bizarre taste of comfort admirable?
Even if it'll only be served once on the table?
Is your scent worth remembering
Despite the undeniable fact that it's next to nothing?
Was it better to know and have hoped to forget
Or to be ignorant and completely have no memory nor idea of it?
Tell me, to which will I feel less bad:
To lose or to not have had?

What I told a her:
I like your company.
Let's still hang out.
Conversation with you is admirable.
I'll still text you in the middle of the night.
Your snaps are cute.
Replies from me will still be expected.
Our touch's ecstatic.
Will still randomly hold your hand.
We are friends.
We are still friends.

What a she told me:
What you said.

Thinking of you when I'm under the weather might not be the best course of action. For when I do so, I get a weird mix of joy, sadness, and confusion.
Everytime I hear the phone ring, knowing that it will be your voice on the other line; I want to feel that I am saved but I know I will not be fine.

While it is crystal to me that you are, indeed, looking for, whatever, I don't know; My first instinct is that your voice is some music I have to follow.
Thousand scenarios have occurred in my head where I finally confront and tell you that whatever this is has to end; Yet I have never actualized any, for at the moment, you are the only friend who would understand and have listened.

Every night I grab a pillow and pretend that it is you; Speaking to it and sharing imaginations 'til past two.
Immortalizing what has happened during those nights; Which to be honest were not walks in the park with bright lights.

To want and be wanted is what we, or perhaps I, desire. It's a human need that I believe is so dire.
For when lips lock, bodies touch, and breath shared; We make a world of our own where we know that we dared.

Yet our tied moments are loose and blurry; Cause I know that you are not into me as I am into your story. I have always felt that I am not the narrative you long to read; And that you just let me in to play for a pity-feed.

At this point, I would like to ask for your help, an intervention perhaps. Would you be so kind by being unkind and don't let this, for another time, relapse. Addiction can only be cured through good substitution and rehabilitation; So please cut the act as a psychedelic and save me from this spiral of hunger and frustration.

Set me free and I will be free; Take all the happiness and I'll have the rest gladly.
I just really want this to be over, to be done; For what you want me to be, I don't want to become.

We are afraid because it happens very seldom.
Like a train of thought you wanted to write
But suddenly slipped right before your mind.
Thinking that it will not leave your sight
Yet you are uncertain where to look for this rare find.

We are afraid for it might be the last.
Like the remaining pages of a chapter in a book
With characters to whom you were truly hooked.
Waited and waited for a sequel that would not come,
Build up, for you, dear friend, there will be none.

We are afraid that's why we give it all.
As if it was the last poem you will ever write,
Even though knowing that your thought process is an endless river,
Flowing and fighting with all of its mastery and might,
That in one piece you were wishing you are a character in someone's sonder.

We are afraid yet we hope it would for different reasons.
That it will be uncertainties out of unspeakable beauty and bravery,
In a time when there's an us to contemplate and conjure thoughts if we are real and ready.
That fear itself befriends you and becomes your help,
For fear is personified as someone familiar who is no more than the self.

Which would be of less guilt?
To understand and act on it?
Or to dumb down and follow it?

Understanding the error
Is a personal horror
That disturbs you to the core.

The emptiness that isn't new,
You left and let grew,
Feeds on and consumes the nothingness, too.

A tear that won't fall,
Pain that can stall,
Silence that shouts a call.

Of all the liberties I have,
There's three I wanna add.
Want them binding, tied.

To look for you,
To look at other,
To look at the both of us.

To think of the riddle,
To think unhealthy,
To think dying?

To be sad.
To be mad.
To be afraid.

To Miss,
To Be Jealous,
To Worry.

Then we say the set-up works for us,
A system where we give more than we receive.
Made clear what that was,
Lying alone, they leave.
"We got what was wanted."
The 'only' thing that mattered.
But who are we fooling?
The feeling of being needed was no close to fleeting.
This is why I need you,
You and I.
Your scent shall shall stay, too.
Forgetting, I will try.

To some degree, we all feel the same.
Lost, lured, left, (likely) loved.
Dressed differently, curious characters,
In a not-so-new narrative written right before beacons blossomed as boon and/or bane.
Arriving to an understanding that no one's special, the nothingness isn't new, the emptiness is an ecstasy of the endless wormhole where we are winded.
It is all familiar -- the fun, famine, fickleness, fixated on a point of pieces of peace, serene sensations of vivid voids.
We're uncertain if we're guilty of feeling nothing.
We're just here.
Saving and saved.
Listening and listened to.
Cycles of cynicism.
Plethora of paranoia.
Ignorance ignites bliss before our eyes.
Yet wisdom wins spaces surrounding our troubled thoughts.
We dream of destinations far yet fleeting.
We wake up to nightmares needy of the nuisances that nests in our minds.
We're hungry for endings yet we yearn for beginnings.
We live in instances of ironies and presence of paradoxes.
The singularity has consumed us.
The set is empty.
The state of null has been the stability.

When we were younger we feared the dark,
We were afraid of the monsters hiding under our bed.
Prayed that nightmares would turn to visions of a playground park,
The next morning, we feel the tears that were shed.

Now that we're older, we have embraced solitude in darkness,
Finding comfort and solace when we're alone.
Yet we still fear our thoughts that cast vivid shadows over the emptiness,
For even waking moments are now nightmares on their own.

For tonight was about tears and trying,
Yet it shall be the last,
We shall continue dreaming,
Pursue hope not mere lust.
Now we know we hold such character,
What shall be, still unknown,
We'll get there, happier,
Trust in the break of dawn.

You're not the one who could comfort;
Neither shoulders to cry on.
You might have prepared to say some words;
Save them; be needed, they won't.
As much as someone was there waiting,
For your call that didn't ring,
This situation shall forever sing,
The epic cycle of emptiness where we're living in.
I do hope that it is true,
That one day, without looking, you'll find,
Someone who'll lift you from the blues,
And realize, "Hey, we're two of the same kind."

How would you look at her in her eyes
And tell her she's not happy?
How does one make her realize,
That her life is a pity party?
Though she'd say she's okay,
That she eventually had a reason,
Will she recognize such a priori?
Or sink in an afterlife of beacon?
God bless her and no one else,
May the angels, "In Excelsis Deo" eternally.
She could've had different shells,
Instead, she'd chosen her voice's echo.
How does one look into someone's life
And show her that she could be,
If only she knot a different tie,
A different world she could've seen.

Long overdue it may seem,
But it feels like it's gonna make it.
Wanted to write though light's dim,
It's still gonna fit.
I should've known more,
Than to read what musn't be read.
Maybe I was just for those who bore,
I see to it they are fed.
But what I really wanna say,
Is how the wind kissed me back.
While a visit I made to pay,
Invited me to the familiar track.
One thing I have to admit,
What was blurred was now crystal.
Not how you, them or I treat,
Closer and starving, the cold water was too good for it.

Somebody help, I'm being pulled,
I'm turning to what I keep on repeating.
It's enough everyone's fooled,
Save me from this mad, mad thing.

I refuse to live alone, that I admit,
But I'm slowly losing the capacity to feel.
It's a normal state, being ****,
It's, for me, what is real.

Teach me how to change the ways,
Usher me to brighter paths.
The future that is so full of haze,
Shouldn't end up a corner for the sad.

When the time calls for it, we go.
To a place where islands become lakes,
Oceans turn to plains.
Hills transform to seas,
And bodies that surround us change to ranges that divide us.
It is not an upside down but a twisted reality.
Narratives stays but the characters alter.
For how long shall we sing this epic?
'Til when shall we speak of these stories?
To Time that provides for existence,
We're hopeful we could show true life's essence.

You gave me a nickname,
And we held hands.
Laughed at jokes that were lame,
Suddenly, we're each other's fan.

Yet those short-lived daydreams,
Fainted and faded.
Is it what it seems?
Has it ended before it started?

I hope that it's all in my head,
I wish there's and 'it' to be there.
Can't fall for something that's already dead,
Universe, prove the world could be fair.

Every night I talk to the pillow,
Like how I used to before,
Its faces changes yet remains hollow,
The essence still holds its core.

Tomorrow I wait again,
Though tells myself that it is in vain.
I am, after all, just a friend,
To you, not a loss nor a gain.

Lagi ka na lang
tourist spot na ayos picture-an,
handa pag may birthday lang,
extreme sport na masayang subukan,
gown pag debut, dress pag kasalan,
leap year pag pinagpala,
blue moon pag may himala,
lakad ng barkada kung tuloy ang aya.
One time, big time.

Kailan ka kaya magiging
tambayan anuman ang dahilan,
kanin sa kahit anong ulam,
basketball na laging andiyan,
t-shirt, shorts, pants na 'di pangmayaman,
a-kinse at a-trenta pag minalas,
new moon, full moon at lahat ng quarter,
fixed date.
Big time, all the time.

What makes something universal this sensational?
Are we just so drowned in our self pity parties?
Once the dawn made you realized -- you aren't special,
Are you supposed to feel devastated or perhaps at ease?

You admire someone who doesn't admire you.
Someone you don't like just can't help but like you.
The circle of life that we have always wanted to define,
Gets harder time by time.

For you always wanted to talk to that person,
Yet you are annoyed by the messages of the other.
You've always wanted to touch and put things in motion,
But tries to get away from the other further and further.

Then your dumb mind starts to wonder,
On why your 'one' can't even say your name.
Perhaps, now you know the answer,
How you're played given the rules of your own game.

We were just both curious,
And you were more than willing.
Do not wonder if I stopped talking.
After all, it was just ***.

We may have done it twice,
But that doesn't mean there'll be a thrice.
Can't you see I'm dodging?
After all, it was just ***.

You were a friend that's why,
I let your arms rover far and wide,
I know you understand,
After all, it was just ***.

We were both high in life,
And no one was thinking straight.
Please don't message me when it's late,
After all, it was just ***.

Good to know you travelled so far,
To meet and lie on bed with me.
But hey, we are not to be.
After all, it was just ***.

Nothing more nor less,
But you never learn,
Please do discern,
It was just *** after all.

Those nights you try to make your piece fit with someone else's,
Only to emphasize the emptiness and nothingness the following morning.
Short-lived illusions, deceptions and self-induced make-believes.
Comforting you for a while, a momentary smile.
What's your difference from a homeless man?
Wandering with no destination, looking for a place and comes undone?
The sunset shows you silhouette of still objects,
Occasionally waving at you as winds put them in motion.
Always unsure of what is to come, what is to happen, what is to be.
Patiently waiting for something bizarre -- a shooting star landing right in front of you.
Every sound around mixes with the rhythm within -- a playlist for your introspection.
Unless it becomes true, you will remain to be you.
Unless it gives in, the unbearable plot will repeat itself.
For I have never known I was starving 'til I had a taste of you,
Never known I was exhausted 'til I took a break lying next to you.
But you remains to be a concept, an idea still far from reach.
A walk through the world of forms, a reality bound by norms.
And the moon starts to rise, varying hues paint the skies.
A day that has started with ocean's blues shall end with darkness on cue.
With a the beautiful music silence had laid upon,
You search for the star's light that may guide you while you run.
The trees have always stood guarding your holy place,
Not minding, yet waiting, for you to change your pace.
Like this poem with no beat and rhyme at the beginning,
You're hopeful that tomorrow shall provide for a new good song to sing.
For repetitions are boring.
Like four-word lines written.
Variations are direly needed.
Change your rhythm.
Less be more.
Fix it.
Live.

Were you led?
You're unsure.
One thing's certain,
You tried.
You said,
'Might capture,'
Then again,
Kinda denied.
Can't comprehend,
Thoughts're pure.
Sorta friend,
Hope wanna fight.
Mixed ends,
Mental torture,
Friend or fiend?
Light or night?

Help me not to lie,
Don't ask the questions.
Within, I will just sigh,
Used up all my limited options.
Hope's a *******, a sham;
-- Please remember thee
I am,
What you want me to be.

The ******* dog visits again,
Preventing you from sleeping.
Now, it makes you insane,
Knowing you're a thinking thing.

It shows you how much space you have,
Beside the wide bed where you lie.
How cynicism towards love,
Left you high and dry.

You think of your past attempts,
Which failed for they were pretends.
You realize how you're mind is bent,
Confusing signals, it sends.

Now, you see a face in your mind,
Who'll probably just wither and die.
When will you ever find,
Someone, on your shoulder, who shall lie?

We project more than we care to admit,
We lie to ourselves to comfort our fragility.
But you and I can definitely see it,
That to those thoughts, we are guilty.

How does one unbecome?
When you need more than an escape,
You want some stability, but always on the run,
How to change the cycle? the shape?

The vessel shifts, but the essence remains,
The existence of the very idea, etched.
You'd think the 1059 is over; days you're insane,
But the count never stopped, even sketched.

The promise of a rebirth should be comforting,
But it's what's between the rise and fall that's unbearable.
And as we move on and continue walking,
We hope that someday, some things will be stable.

Faces and places, a fast past.
Picking among fickle options,
Fried in the prying cycle.

One, ja!
Two, jajaja!
Three, jajaja!

A pattern that has fatten,
A frustration in an endless production.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.
**** then pack.

Ja!
Jaja!
Jajaja!

We do crazy things to remind ourselves we're not insane.
Always a hit or a miss; Hoping this isn't in vain.
Done once, once twice; short stolen moments,
But why does it end up people looking for vents.

We do crazy things to forget we're alone.
Post here, tweet there, weird things you do with your mobile phone.
Always on the check just to see zero notification,
On your face, that same old blank expression.

We do crazy things to feel happiness.
While the ingenuity is a question of no less,
We immerse and enter the void more than we should,
Always in search, on the lookout for the truth.

We do crazy things to separate ourselves from what is false,
Lay bare, naked along our imagination's grand halls.
Being worshipped and worships, a god in the true sense of freedom,
Indeed, in those times, thy kingdom does come.

We do crazy things because we are crazy.
We pretend to be young, wild, and free.
But in reality, the only thing we would want to see,
Is some serenity, peace of mind, and clarity.

The curtain call,
the final cut.
Scripts let go and costume's off.
The bow.
Led to another,
freed.

Am I now allowed to say,
"I'd always wanted to..
From the moment I saw you."

Now the Notes to Self sings,
The Lost Boy who's now Golden,
After traversing the Highway of Fallen Kings
Yells "Please Don't Find Me" no more.

Uncuffed and of no Shame,
The Wild Things Took You To Church knowing
that It Will Come Back.

Every Walk That I've Ever Taken Has Been In Your Direction.

Knowing that Every Teardrop is a Waterfall,
The Wolves Without Teeth,
Finally, 42.

This is how we change the rythm of the world.
No more good, no more bad
Just a more vivid honesty.

Had they known you'll rush back
at once, would've it changed
something?

Ofcourse.
Everything alters everything.
Try not to fake the now.
Stream of unknowns;
Running constantly.

Seemingly zero direction yet towards all Destinations.