I don't need a Khadijah.

Neither do I want an Delilah.

A little bit of what Freud said,

And unhealthy doses of Darwinism.

I'm stuck in a perpetual state of being,

I'm stuck in a constant cycle of repetition.


You can't have your cake and eat it.

But for now, the tunes will simmer, strain and boil my feelings.


With the curling of fingers down your face.

Body marked by scars
Heart full of holes
Mind filled with cracks
Soul smeared with taint

But you were the best I ever had.

The loudest of the bunch
With sleeves wrapped down

With multiple layers on
Twinkle in his eye


The meekest of the few
With shoulders hunched and huddled

With nary a word to describe her
Too much of a wallflower


By chance, or by fate.
Just the two of them,

Bound by a moment in time forever.

The boy with his scars,
And the girl with her demons.

Our footsteps,
Not similar,
Yet familiar.
X meets Y in this rendition of love.

"As I live and breathe!"
How goes your latest despair?
Does it say "silent volume"?*
"Or perhaps, a new addiction for every end of day?"

Never looking through glass panels again,
To see how have things changed.

There's no need for the flames to dance across the darkness, no more.
It's seductive, I know.

It's tempting, I.. know?
There's always a need to look back, to learn.
Tell tale signs of intrusion, prevent your mind from being unchained.
Now, prepare for the ambush.
Feed the paranoia.
Fear the abandonment.

Relive.
Relief.

Two words that couldn't be farther apart.


Why does it sound so close, yet too far?

Relive : a small chime slowly drawing you in, to dream of a dream that was never a dream. A drowsy half state of a dead mind, and the best of your heart's desire.

Relief : the guitar strings thudding loudly as the drumming in your breast tolls a bell, that never ends til destinations been reached. The mind singing choirs of devastation averted, and the heart returning back to a slow rhythm.

Feel your/my/our exposed nerves.
Comprehension breaks down as submission draws nearer.

That old familiar feeling.
Flooding back, in tunes you never knew could exist in the space it took for a breath to begin and a sigh to end.

Lightning arcs across your brain, the scars lighting up, rearranging themselves in ****** gold runes.

It's a happy noise.
It's a good noise.

The background rises and falls, in perfect harmonic distortion.

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.

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.

At first you saw it was nothing.
And then you had to believe it was something.
And at long last, it became every little thing you didn't see coming.

Here's to mourning the things we never lost
Here's to dying over a cause you don't believe in


Here's to beating yourself up for things that were already preordained


Here's to sorrow.


It's the unique taste on your tongue and mind,
It's the feeling you never had,
It's the tune you never heard.

For it doesn't exist.

Now, do I have your attention or should I fuel your apprehension?

You should stop looking too much into what you dream.
They're more akin to a waking nightmare.

Their skin. Their waists. Their movements.

Intoxicating, aren't they?

Now that you've come up to breathe.

Now that you're on dry ground again.

You are not Icarus.

And they are not the Sun.

You know what you felt.

A great amount of suppression of lust.

But the fire, oh the fire.

Rouse yourself.

Douse the flames.

A soft silky smooth thread falls into your hands again.

Let it go.

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.