Which to sever, which to reinforce?
The ones that tell what we want to hear,
Or the ones that tell what we need to hear?
Those who give us fabricated mirth,
Or those who provide us genuine relief?
Shall we keep our hands in shallow honey pots,
And our ears listening to sultry lies?
Or open our eyes to those who can scrape it's scales, and embellish us with the truth?
Which bridge to cross, and which to burn?

Because it's too sweet when things are going well, too painful when it's not.
The process makes development heavenly addicting; separation, a gateway to hell.

It's enlightening when you're hitting the high notes. Felo-de-se never became such an attractive propostion when you're missing it.

Call me crazy, but chivalry is embedded deep within my soul, I believe we should court this way. Whatever the outcome may be, go bloom and then wilt, rinse and repeat—better be a flower, than die a seedling.

I think it's the way people are supposed to love each other. You already feel the effects of it, consumed, drowning in it, before your heart even realizes it.

It all made sense now, the road map of my demise.

You could've **** me with your longing heart.
How could you let a broken painting get in the way?

How could you presume, a friendly rapport was feigned?

Why did you have to wait, till the dam can contain it no more?

I felt fate yanked my heart's strings, tangling it.
My brain, rupturing from the cruel deductions.
Tormented cranium—screws gouging out of it.

It all made sense now. Anger draws me towards retaliation. However, I choose not to bear arms; forgivness cries out.

I sever my hand against you, for I will not let this get in the way of our longing for each other.

I abhor hatred against you, because our sweet memories overwhelmed me; because I love you.

My exquisite geyserite, blossoming middlemist, and my Alma mater. I have never forgotten you, I never did—I never will.

There's always that someone who only makes their presence felt when everything is going great for you, then goes on to wreck your day and messes with your good vibes, deliberately
I can feel my intellect waste away as I try to reason with these kinds of people
You know the kind that makes a big deal out of the most trivial of matters
You can tell that they can't get themselves to think of anything else better to do
You can tell, they're only envious of you
Eager to tear away at you at the first sign of opportunity
Eager to see you go down their level, and beat you up with their stupidity
I'm just thankful that I'm fortunate enough to see through the facade, and understand them instead
I am lucky to have culminated the patience and character to stop myself from caving their faces in, and just say, "Have a good day!" and walk away

I am not what I think I am and I am surely not what you think I am, but I will be the effigy of our collective interactions with each other.

Why does the world conspire against the eccentric?
Unique is wrong, creativity ostracized.
Numb, blind, masses choose to remain.
Being true to oneself, criminalized.
Like candles whiffed one by one, extraordinary is now a scarcity.
Aristocracy calls for the illiterate, not the enlightened.
We’re surrounded by advancements that dull our minds.
When will we realize, herded we are?
When will we realize, we are assumed usufruct by the elite?
Common folk desensitize incessantly at death’s door.
Robbed of creative thought and ingenuity.
Tolerate, embrace, assimilate, so it seems.
Breaking status-quo is just vagrancy.

I must have deceived myself
Did I?
I made a fool out of myself
I'm not sure?
Can you blame me for doing so?
What do you think?

I'm leaving the flaming seas pristine
I'm a leaking oil rig
I might blow up if I stay in it
I'm content that it scorched me
Let it not combust me any further
Everything is better as is

Where's the line between true love and puppy love?
Is there even really such a word?
What was the coiner thinking?
Loved laced with infidelity, sure.
How about young love, love that was tucked away in the shelves of time? Stored in the farthest reaches of our mind, hibernating,
Yet moves our hearts with its presence.
Singeing our lips with its delight; our skin, burned by its intensity.
Love that haunts us, until we find a diversion to keep it at bay.
So strong, you feel it's knock in a room flooded with blaring noise.
The thought of this person, scares you.
Yet this fear, is accompanied with hope—that there's something cherishable in this world.
But despite all this, I cannot fathom how someone can still call it, puppy love.
I guess puppy love could just be that providence sent to stir our hearts.
The taste, to enable us to see what's worth loving, what makes us click.
A love, that reveals us what kind of love, we should love.

I now understood why you chose to stay with him after all this time. I don't care anymore what incited you to do so, whether or not I'm good enough for you, if I'm just a play thing to keep you feeling wanted while you're putting yourself together, or if you're too wallowed in
your pride to agree with the people closest to you that you're putting up with an ***. It's because you made the decision to love him, for all his taint and shortcomings.
I now understood.

Ah! the ways of the hopeless romantic
It's hard as a hopeless romantic to fall for another hopeless romantic
Chasing desperately; diligently, after happy endings of the stories we fashioned.

Why do you try so hard to justify the unjustifiable;
Affirming lies to yourself?
Who's really being liberated now?
Your intentions laid out in broad daylight, it's no use.
Like planting flowers in an open wound, it's not helping.
Speak your mind, but know truth favors not who erred.
Save yourself the silent humiliation.
Move along, just don't look back.

Touched consciousness,
Thoughts intertwined.
Cold sweat, palpitating heart.
A sweet nightmare urgently truncated.
Hurting, I hugged harsh reality.

Ambitious minds,
Bodies inadequate to fulfill its desires.
It's a balancing act—deliberately we must tread.
Failure makes a point.
****** yourself in the perplexity of the world,
And you catch yourself Bleeding,
Trying to hold on to your spilled guts.
Eminence differs.
Stay on the sidelines, bench warmed, gluteal atrophy.
While you ponder what all these struggles are for, a cascade of opportunities fly by, and life's kisses elude you.
Yin and yang, as they say—discover that delicate balance of Skepticism and audacity, hope and despair, love and scorn.
Lest, you fall off the tightrope of life and into the pit of aimlessness.

I hate it when people think suffering is wrong. Learn to pick up your **** suffering, and bear it! Try to be a good person so you don't make it worse! I know you have a lot of reasons to be resentful about school, heck, even your existence! We know it's going to involve a lot of pain, and lots of it is going to be unfair! But acting out everything you're complaining about will only make things infinitely worse, try it. That's why we have the saying that hell is a bottomless pit, because some stupid ******* could figure out a way to make it a lot worse. Learn to accept it! This is what the real world looks like, full of suffering. What can you do about it? Try reducing it! Start with yourself! Get your **** together solidly so that people can rely on you! Square up with what's wrong with you, you know it if you'll admit it. You know that there are a few things you can polish up a bit, deal with it and maybe you can start managing your present insufficient condition. Don't be a **** victim. Shine yourself up a bit so your eyes will be a little bit more open, shine it some more and maybe you might be able to bring your family together instead of having to be that spiteful, neurotic room mate that you're doomed to spend the whole semester with. Be humble about your deficiencies. Figure out how you can make peace with your siblings. You'll get there somehow, and when your life starts functioning you'll find out, "Well, that kind of relieved a little bit of suffering," at least that reduced the opportunities for spiteful revenge. When you little by little start to get your **** together, you'll get acquainted with it because you're doing something difficult. You're wiser, so maybe you could point out a tentative finger out there beyond your family and try to change some little thing without wrecking it. We students are so conditioned to think that we can just fix anything, even something as complex as our society. Well, try to fix a military helicopter and see how far you get with it. You can't just whack it with a wrench and be like "Oh look, it's better!" NO! Life is complicated and to fix things are hard! We overcome suffering by being a better person, that's how you do it! It's hard because it takes responsibility. If you want a meaningful life everything you do matters! Unless you don't want meaning and not take responsibility, because who the **** cares? You can wander through life doing whatever your want! Gratifying your short term impulses for who knows how short it's going to be. Ask yourself if you want to get stuck in meaninglessness, but no responsibility. You'd quickly realize how the majority of your being are pursuing meaningless things. Because the fact is, pursuing meaningful things means taking on suffering. You have to put yourself together in the face of that, and that's hard! When you really get to the bottom of things, you'll realize that you need to make the choice to put yourself together. Transcend your suffering and see if you can be some kind of hero. Be that person who'll make the suffering in the world less. That's the way forward.

I choose to dwell in beautiful, tragic memories. Because behind every memory, there is an associated regret. Because in every memory, however beautiful they may be, are bundled with doubt. Two contrasting qualities locking horns, vying for our consciousness. What's sad however, is we usually choose to fall back on the negative zone, uttering auspicious affirmations to ourselves. Why bother at all, if you’re just a butterfly landing on a fly trap? We’ve always started at the top of the rainbow all along yet, we choose to slide away from the *** of gold and into the boiling cauldron. What made us so uncomfortable and squeamish about the thought of lying on a bed of tulips? No matter how intricate and deliberate our thoughts can get, it will always boil down to two choices, the fair or the ugly. I don’t know about you, but I think my choice is clear. You see, our memories are only dull and hurtful, because we choose to see it that way. That unwelcomed memory is just a *** of gold enveloped in a tar of pessimism, it’s only like that if you keep it that way.

And it will waste away, and they will all go back to resume their corresponding programming, and dig themselves in in their favorite distractions. This deeply buried corruption they 'grieve' over, no where near from being exhumed—just as the morticians have devised. Sad isn't it? But it always has been.

Guide her. However, expect that she will consider your advice apathetically—it's an inescapable affair. She will think that she has it all figured out and you're not one to lecture her on this matter. And then, only then when her heart is cut into ribbons will she realize that your voice was sound, only then, will she come to you for insight. That is, if she's even brave enough to talk to you about it. Be vigilant, instill sound teaching, unbendable values, and pray that our Holiness will escort her to the right man.

Music, a double edge sword.
It aggravates gaping wounds;
It mends optimistic spirits.

A magic that can ascend one to
A higher plane of existence,
Or a boulder that can send one hurling
To the bottom of Dante's inferno.

A cupid that gives repose to distressed spirits,
Or a scythe that leaves a furrow in the heart of a cynical soul.

They say time heals, I say music aligns the stars,
Fuels the flare, unclouds the gloom of the skies;
Brings spirits closer to enlightenment.

I chose to embrace her, drop the deadweight,
And unlock the shackles of my heart.

I guess I didn't reflect it well.
I guess I was too shy, too reserved—it felt cold.
But to picture you speak out the words typed in my screen,
And to impress your voice in my head like a song.
I felt the happiness of a child, achieving a milestone in his life.
Too see your lips turn up, untroubled by prejudice.
Too see your eyes stare at mine, free of malice.
I felt the world was working with me.
But clocks can't scream urgency.
Books can't hug you.
I wish you knew how much those little things mattered to me.
If only you knew, that I was about to overcome my silence.

Time is never kind
If anything, it is cruel
But it is to betray oneself to think
It is never fair
Absolute fashioned it that way
Only benevolent to broken bodies
Have the *****, for it will bend not. Now go!
Trot along time's quandaries
lest it wastes you; stars thither

I am a helping arm at the ready, a friend that you can open up to; a shoulder you can lean on.

But please, my heart held in deep affection asks that you only be fair.

Settled mind tripping, no longer can I differentiate between compositions for the distinguished, and for the many. No longer I attempt, for pain lingers, waiting to pounce on me.

Please, as the lady my heart first throbbed for, don't leave my recuperating soul more perplexed as it already is.

My Lois Lane. My Maria.
It is only my heart's desire that you be loved... even if it has to come from someone else.

Pulling away, yet growing closer than ever.
A  lovely dilemma, we desire to ignore.
Apprehensive, we closed each others doors,
Holding on each others knobs with gusto.
Our hearts stopped spilling love, but our ribs are breaking.

Cold shoulders, warm chests.
Light years apart, our consciousness still collide.
We look away, but our hearts pump longing for each other.

Callous I choose not
Awkward it may be
Cynical onslaught, I stand againts
Setting things right is in my sights
Make amends with my limbs if I must
Righting wrongs is thy virtue

Here it comes again, deadlines and exams.
I thought things will get better,
Reality boots me in the gut;
Expectations weigh me down.
My eccentricity, repels my peers.
How will I blend? How do I hope to belong?
Then you came along.
You lifted my angst, my loneliness.
You went your way to comfort me.
An unlikely friendship blossomed.
A bond crossing cities—piercing screens.
Academic plights tasted like butter.
Indifferent folks, spilt sweetness in their lips.
Stress, became lovely.
May hap, my silly expectations are reasonable after all.
Still, test papers are taken away.
Roads divide, split ways we go.
Now, I'm back in a rut—beatings recur.
If nothing else, at least we have journals of our memories.
Holding on light bulbs for each other,
Navigating the illusions of indoctrination.
Anxiously, waiting for our paths to cross again.

Sleep, it calls for you.
Your lover when twilight sets in.
But the crevice in the narrow opening
Of daylight's yawn is holding on to you,
Calling you to cuddle its distractions.
Distractions that grind your spine to dust,
And turns your heart into a mutton.

Sleep well my dear.
Do not let the drama of day consume you.
Let her satiate your brittle bones,
Let the moon embrace you in solace,
Let the faint white noise deafen you to slumber.
Suffer like little children no more.

I want to sleep on the surface tension of your perilous love. Willingly submitting my entire being on a paper-thin layer, separating me from your overwhelming abyss. Trustingly allowing my heart, as it falls off my chest, to be consumed by your drowning affection.

Shallow breaths, leaking sweat glands
Time downshifts, speaking becomes a chore,
Larynx quivering violently
Swaying side by side, dancing aimlessly

You zealously prepared for this,
But dreadful emptiness fills you
Pride spilling, eager to drive your head into necropolis

Anxious to belong with putrefying corpses
Wishing the heavens will take you back,
But Hell chars you out of your misery

It's like begging spilt milk
To flow back into its broken glass
You stand here now, so jump the gun
Dive into the abyss, defuse the ticking bomb
The chicken will be dressed anyway
Might as well rise to the occasion

Lift the curse of silence
Say it, say what you're unable to say
Fumble speaking, but speak anyway
Say it even if it doesn't make sense
Sing, and descend with the sunset

Burn it down
Let the smoke and everything
You hold dear climb out the windows
Start with an empty heart
I already cut the anchor loose
Look where else you can be
We'll have radios in hand
We'll be in touch
But I can't sail by your side
Spring blooms elsewhere,
Be free
Let me rise amongst the constellations
The chase is over - I stopped miles ago

They aspire to rise above hardship
Hollow professions, empty words
How can they bathe in such delusion?
That shed of integrity given up, for passing pleasures
To abscond from shady deeds is more appealing
Eyeballs roll over pavement, sinister hands look out
Plunder, a dope to dig them further in their graves
Consume themselves in their own folly, they prefer
Eyelids droop over optimistic affirmations
Pulled down by their very actions—doused in contradiction.

It started as droplets on my forehead,
It swelled until it poured all over my face,
What started as a curiosity became ineludible.
Such a sublime, surreptitious, dilemma.

Such a sight to behold.
The beauty of sitting on your warm behind.
Cool, filtered air blowing, drying your sore eyes.
Staring at two glowing tail lamps, full of rage and light.
Time waves good bye, like a widow left behind.
Composed,civilized minds decline into untamed―primitive impulses.
Instincts drive them, hoping it will hasten their journey.
The flow of traffic shows otherwise.

Burn all the bridges
Set the foundations ablaze
Reduce the platform to cinders
Stare at the turquoise eyes of the fore
Walk from where you can stand
Breathe light through your nostrils
Listen to darkness make love
Love like the shore pulling the sea
God, we're so helplessly human

Like an unopened letter decaying over time, sentiments fettered atrophy.
Maybe, it crawls at a snails pace, too slow that it kills ones anxiousness.
The constellations conspired against it. Evanescent, reality forbid it existed.
The wick burned out —the top kept spinning.
It made time apathetic that it unwound itself; the hour glass stopped running.

But it does not halt, steadfast, it marches on; enduring the batter of twilight.
Ardent in its conviction, the gavel cannot be brought down.
Too bright, it pierced the veil of despair.
Too colorful, it slathered the grey area.
Too stubborn, it bloomed the wilt out of her.

A disturbing but necessary evil
Pain helps us appreciate love
The more you love the more you get cut
But I'd rather get cut than live a cold life
It's what makes love forever unsettling
Yet infinitely alluring.

Like a heart roused with passion,
I conduct myself with lustful decorum.
With my shadows shivering in bliss,
I lay my vigorous sinews to your titillating touch.

Craving for your satiating warmth,
Esteemed artist―lingering in my labyrinthine mind,
I long for your company In this hectic week.

Another year has passed, a milestone I consider.
Places traveled, new circles formed; stroked with love.

What years preceding it should've been.
It has been fulfilling as it is melancholic.
Another new year draws near, anxiously I look forward to.

I hope the bittersweet insights I gained will make me ready to embrace my eventual self.

A chapter of my life has close, a new canvass has been laid. Keep living broken, keep breathing love.

Don't punish me for what I feel.
Our routine may have ended with an unpleasant stroke.
But I promise, I'll climb over the fence
when the wires have been taken down.
I'll leap off my bed, when we've overcome our drowsy spell.
Maybe, when the rain steers our lips together once more, I can make it to you.
But for now, don't punish me for placing ellipses in the spaces between us.

You already assured our mutual destruction
Circling back is like winding a broken clock
Return whence you came, leave me in peace

Your empty cup filled me
Your absence, my intimacy
You were a blanket on my cold skin
You made me feel richer than them all
I thought we where on the right track
I thought I didn't have to look back
But all the while, everything about you
Was pouring out to someone else
I wish we can turn back time
To the good ol' days
Because even though we've lost our grip,
I can still feel the warmth of your hand

Alcohol coursing through my veins
Erratic thoughts cloud me
I beat the drums of impulsiveness
We dance towards the primerose path
With brake pads worn out
Hold on honey, hold on too late
You left me on the precipice of impiety
You left like I was your imagining

We overestimate ourselves on the wrong things, and underestimate ourselves for the right ones.

We manipulate ourselves to fail, yet we project our failure on others with righteous indignation.

Misfortune shouldn't come as a surprise, yet we still get "swept off our feet."

You are the sun that burns my skin
The moonlight that keeps me sleepless
I was a distraction to your chaos
A vessel to compose your troubled thoughts
A willing canvass to your destruction
I am the Knight who saved the dragon

Why do you keep on flirting with darkness, slandering the light with something that could never light your way?

Are you, conflicted? You shouldn't be, right?
I mean, we all fall into trenches in life many times over. Down there, you may find the meaning to your existence. Maybe, it may give you the answer that long eluded you. But, before you stumble into it, you need to decide if you'll choose to uphold the rules you bear, or be prepared to get out of it completely different.

I know. We already established what kind of disposition this is, but you know how dangerously intimate this can get out of control.

But, if you're aware, I guess all will be well, and everything is clear?