All I can see is that we shall be burned
Will turned into a billion ashes
But blinded and crippled were unconcern
Still catching the meaning of holy masses
Sometimes I wonder, If they were the one disabled
Because at most, it's us all along
Who have this blinded and crippled soul

12-26-2015

Sometimes, when the world is still
I find faces in the tile cracks
of the bathroom floor

Tainted with age and despair,
they are trapped where ceramic
meets skin

It is with them that I worry,
crushed like expired cherry blossom petals
that litter the streets of early summer

It is with them that I sigh
for freedom,
Maybe we have time
but it does not
have us.

Dear girl,
I know
how much you crave for happiness

But please,

Never
(ever)
mistake comfort for bliss.

Most men run like clockwork.
Each piece is relevant to the system.
Alas, I am different.
I am a clock, like all other men,
But I am filled with broken parts:
Broken gears, broken hands,
And broken everything else.
I can no longer move forward in time
For my hands are stuck
Cursed to tell and retell one minute.

Why would the clockmaker
Turn me into a monstrosity?
Is this a punishment for my sins
Or is it a challenge I cannot win?
Am I broken to start with
Or is this a cruel joke?
I wish not to retell the same time
Because it is a time that haunts me.
A time that has brought me grief.
Fix me, so I may not be stuck.

I thought that he was perfect for me
Because no one never laugh at my jokes
They sounded a lot funnier in my head,
But he laughs anyway, and once he laughs
I got thirsty for more, nobody knows what they
future holds, but I do remember
his snarling mad hatter laughter

Suddenly, one day he wanted out, he want
to spread his wings, so I let him fly.
I thought that he was perfect for me,
Because no one never laugh at my jokes

Some things sound funnier in your head
than when you say them out loud
I just had to let him go………………..>

I am certain she does not love me
the way that I love her
so full,
so poetically passionately,
so self-destructively,
so lovely,
In all her darkness.

A black sun that burns brighter
than any celestial body;
I would let myself burn
to touch it,
to see it I would let
myself go blind.

I hope she does not mind
that I love her so deeply.
I give it freely,
not expecting anything
explicit in return.

Hoping that she
will always be merely
one poem or message
away from me.

Indeed, I thank you
For giving me some hope
By sharing your love so true
For injecting me the wisdom of the pope

Tried, but mostly I've failed
The exam was too difficult
Dark thoughts seem to me, was heavily nailed
To optimism, I am just an insult

So why? why back again?
Mostly because the wisdom of the dark is truer
I'm sorry, it’s really hard to begin
Believing in a myth was much bluer

I hope you'll understand such situation like this
This insanity in my head
Why I need to blow your sweet perfect kiss
And choose the bitter lips of pessimism instead

So here I am now
Singing the same depressed song
I know I won't received any bow
But I'm home, back where I belong....


written: January 29, 2015 at 10:00 pm
Depressed Mode
Mysterious Aries

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