It's been quite some time since I've been here,
This forest I mean.
What a magical place it is,
Where dragons have been cleaved;
And faeries caged.

The moonlight drips over its canvas,
In between the canopy,
Unto rustling decomposition.
Although I wounder to myself,
"Where is Hercules tonight?"

Maybe the city lights are flushing out
The constellations which articulate my thoughts,
And imbue their synergy
Into the masterpiece of the night sky.

Silly humans.
Thinking they can do whatever they want,
To achieve their dreams.
Well, I'm not sorry to break it to you all; but
Time has to happen before it exists.
So all your petty hopes and wishes are simply
Problems you are all creating  
That were never destined to be there in the first place.

Who am I to decide though.
Decisions, decisions;
Fate waiting to happen,
Statistics to record.
But Destiny is already turning her gears.
Working the clock.

So many thoughts trickling through my mind,
Sitting here under this eucalyptus tree.
The arouma is so soothing...
It reminds me of the princess who lived in a cave.
The very grounds where I was nearly slaughtered,
By her knight in shining armour.

No, I wasn't the one glistening under the moonlight,
For the person being slaughtered would be none other than myself.
She would sit in horror at the scene when she awoke.
Only to find that the knight simply wanted to defend her well-being.

Something I could never do.
Because defending one means bringing wraith upon another.
I could never do that.
For the guilt I would feel,
And remorse ten fold that the relatives of the one being hurt would feel.
Empathy would be the enemy,
Not the one "endangering" my beloved.

So I'll die in her stead.
So I musn't experience the ulterior hatred of her eyes,
As she looks at me as if I were her Saviour.

No, that isn't what I want.

So if it means her heart in someone else's hands,
So be it.
So long she is happy,
And safe.

No matter how long I should wait for her return,
No matter the distance achieved between us;
Both physically and emotionally,
I will always Love her.

Not to the moon and back,
For landing upon the stars simply puts me at rest
Of the brink of death from the fall.
Gravity isn't near,
But Darkness most certainly is.
Everything in "space" is nothing.
Zero.


But the clock keeps its schedule on point,
And the gears of Destiny still turn;
although the time is certainly out of joint.

The trembling of my fingers,
As the blood in my veins rushes through the frail tendrils...

Blood.

That's all there really is in the future ahead of me.
Crimson and fluid like a sunset...on Mars.

You know that feeling you get when,

You know...happens?

I love you;
Forevermore,
Never any less.

It's as if we
**** more tenderly
Than we **love.

What else is there to say besides,
"I love you."

I always find myself thinking.
About how much time in my Life there is,
About how depressing my Life is,
About...Life.
Then there you come, strolling effortlessly into my world.
You're magical.

And everyday, I think to myself...do you even care anymore?

She's feeling down,
So it's time to bring her up.

The untitled book on the floor,
With rips and tears on its couver.
A tattered spine.
Laying there, unnoticed,
in the fields of books
at the library.

Nothing can soothe the pain its felt.
But one can always reiterate the pain,
Or simply toss it into a hot box
Where it can burn slowly.

"It".
Of course, there's no other name for this book.
It has no title!
But does a book really need a title,
More than it does someone with one to read this book?
So it can flourish and receive a title,
So it doesn't experience all of this withering?

Perhaps.
But is that really what the book wants?
Is that really what the author wants?
The bookbinder? (Those still exist)
The reader themselves?

Or does this book want to be sold into
The battleground of merciless bloodshed,
Where its always going to be treated like a thing;
Rather than the contents of their character.

My excitement talking to you,
Is like popping iridescent bubbles.

Simply...soothing.
The catalyst in the morning is a carefully created cup of...
Coffee.
With a dollop of delicate dreams,
Atop arduous aspirations.
Locked,
Within lovely lips;
Upon the porcelain,
Peaking with purity.
As clean as...
Apples, being allocated in the dishwasher.

The morning dew outside,
Is like the boy inside
Who'd cried.

Merely laying on the ocean floor,

Admiring the surface's mermaid scales.

When...

Everything fails me...

...

I cannot die,

but remain withered.

"I wounder what the world would be like from an aerial view.
Laying here on the grass,
On the rich soil,
The breeze carrying the rustic scent of the nearby
Eucalyptus trees.

Why don't we take a trip to the clouds,
I see a dragon there.
You know,
Making shapes with your mind out of the clouds.
It's only necessary,
Other than the usual grass rash.
Those are certainly a nuisance.
Or when you lose sight of your precious dragon.
Well...there goes our ride.

It's okay though!"
Pop up onto your feet.
Look forward.
Well, there really isn't much in front of you,
Besides clouds and other floating landscapes.
You live in the clouds, remember?

Carefully peering over the edge of the floating landmass you reside on,
You take a look down and imagine what it's like down there.
Lush canopies, vast meadows filled with raspberry reds
And vanilla yellows.
Dandelions rustling carefully,
As the wind carries them to their next destination.
Where they'll make use of their surroundings,
To flourish once more and carry on their subtle legacy.

"I want to be like a dandelion seed,
Flowing seamlessly through the air;
Carelessly carrying my legacy."
You think to yourself.

If only you had wings,
Then you could certainly pull it off.
Let the air carry you,
Caress you, delicately;
As if you were glass fighting gravity as you dropped towards...
Not inevitable shatter, oh dear no.
Simply to float unto the soil of the imaginary landmass at the bottom
Of the drop.

A dream drop.
Falling through the clouds,
Seemingly eternal, the drop I mean.
Then you notice you're falling,
And it feels weightless and beautiful.
You reach your hand out in front of you,
As if the orb of light before you was the size of a dove.

A dove.
Soft and smooth,
Their feathers may be.
Stroking slowly in an up and down motion,
Caressing every feather between your fingertips.
Feeling the gentle heartbeat and warmth of the bird,
Gazing at your with it's powerful green eyes.

"What am I doing?"
You think to yourself, in the midst of your fall.
You open your eyes once more to find yourself
On what seems to be a cloud.
Your hand outstretched, caressing something soft
Like a dove.

Only to find yourself holding a fairy,
Gleaming in iridescence.

Softly giggling to yourself,
You roll out of bed.
Taking one more glance
At your little teddy bear resting on the pillow beside where you were.

A pendant open,
Revealing this fairy.
She's certainly,
One of a kind.

A group of buffoons is called
A congress.

How coincidental.

Since I am so worthless,
I might as well...







*Die?

There's not much I can do,
When she's fluttering about,
*Happily...

I look at the fairy,
And think to myself,
"I cannot comprehend how much love she pours into something.
I cannot fathom creating constellations to help her surmount her obstacles,
For she has created her own to guide her."

And here I am, sitting under an olive tree,
Watching her twirl and slip through the flimsy canopy of the forest.
Sorry Hercules, Cerberus has already been slain.
Not by us; but by her own magical knight in shining armour.
It's strange how jealous I am,
Yet I feel no envy or regret.
Okay, maybe a slight fragment of regret;
But don't worry pal, Cerberus won't be emerging from my dark depths.

It's almost like she refracts the stars' rays and creates her own iridescence.
Such a spectacular sight.
That I cannot caress nor look at for too long,
I may go blind.
And apparently love is blind.

The irony.
Well, no matter; I can still relax here on the soil,
And remain calm for she isn't going anywhere.
**Right?

Oh, hello there.
I managed to slip away from my previous adventure,
With the knight and his beloved.
My beloved, too;
I suppose.

I've stumbled upon a peculiar thing, though.
An olive tree,
In the midst of this lush underbrush.
It's quite twee,
If I do say so myself.
Although I'm more interested in the treasure below.

A pristine white glows beneath.
I twiddle with the branches a little to find a lovely treasure.
I sit down,
Outstretched my fingers towards the snow,
And carefully pluck at it,
Delicately brushing along the olives in the midst
Of my glissando.

Yohan Heineken, I believe.
A baroque composer.
My thoughts fluidly sailing as the leaves of the tree rustle,
And the snow echos as more olives fall upon it.

Like...an orchestra.
The olives falling unto the porcelain, I mean.
What a beautiful melody it creates,
And my fingers magically gloss along the porcelain,
Carefully molding the remaining olives into the crevices my fingers have made.
Oh dear, I've become too passionate for this!

I carry on anyways, 3rd Movement and all.
The Tempest...
A lovely play by Shakespeare & a dazzling story told by Beethoven.

Or simply a way to express my current emotions.
The wind carried the melody...

*...to the ears of the waking princess.

I always think about how you feel about me.
I'm probably wrong, it's no surprise.
You're always raving about your knights in rusty armour,
Emerging victorious from their battles to save you.
Slaying the dragons,
Dousing flames,
Or simply, serenely clutching you underneath your cotton fort.
It's all flowing through, garnishing my preemptive thoughts of your saviour.

It's alright though.
You, thinking you're some wretched old witch living in the dark depths of the forest,
Always told me that "love" is something that can be immersed in without your actual presence.
Striving to see that person smile and glow,
Even if you yourself are not really any part of it.
I've accepted that,
But I still don't know what this thing...this enigmatic entity, Love, quite is.

Your knight, however, seems to be fulfilling his duty.
Quite well, at that.
Good for him!
It makes me happy to see you both happy.
(I always laugh when those around me laugh, even if I have no idea what's going on...hahaha, it's great)
He always visits you in your dark cave,
Where you think nobody will find you,
And he surmounts the guardian of your threshold.
While I'm peering through the brush,
Making sure things go right.
Because I'm paranoid like that.

After all of your embracing in his arms,
And dousing all the flames of horror around you,
You seem to be in bliss.
That's good.
A shooting star glosses by, but you're too busy with him to notice.
Or maybe you did notice.

I'm getting sleepy, and you might be too.
So might he.
But being the knight he is, he'll probably wait for you to doze off,
Then adore your lovely face as you've faded off into the blackness.
How I wish to witness such a magical sight.
How luc-

Crack!
Oh dear, I've stepped on a stick.
How silly of me.

He's noticed and sets you down carefully.

I sit and wait patiently, as he takes hold of his sword and approaches the brush.
Should I break for it, or wait for his reaction?
Surely he values the protection of his loved one more than a random creature in the brush
That, of course, threatens the safety of the princess.

He's closer.

I slowly rise to my feet and walk out of the brush,
The canopy's shade couvering my identity.
The moonlight glistening upon his blade.

I stare into his eyes, for he only sees a black figure within the shaded area.
He has determination and a sense of loyalty in his eyes.
Good, I can check that off.

He lifts his sword, holding it firmly with both his hands.

Little does he know, that his loved one's guardian is standing before him.
Perhaps she hasn't accepted it, or even noticed,
But I'm still there.
Always...there.
On the sidelines, admiring the beauty and radiance of the fairy,
Being caressed by a seemingly brighter knight.

His sword is moving downwards...

I wounder if she'll ever notice.

...closer...

It's okay though.
I'm sure she'll be fine without me.

A smile made its way across my face, embracing my cheeks.

Whoosh.

A sound like a machete moving seamlessly through silk was made in the night.



She shivered mildly in her sleep.

Hey boy,
We meet again.

Give her this:
favourite flower.

Hey boy,
Please treat her right, okay?

**Or I will.

Sitting. On some wooden railing.
Typical movie scene.
Staring off into the distance,
Patiently waiting Helios to set.
The wind tuning to a mezzo-piano sound.
Harmonious really.

I don't have long hair that can nonchalantly flow through space as the wind blows past,
But I have long eye lashes.
And I can glance back and forth,
As if I'm double-taking a beautiful girl walking along the country side,
Noticing the honeycomb rainbows the sun's rays make
As my eye lashes magically refract them.

My mind is racing with thoughts,
Yet ever-so calmly making sense of it all.
Of course I can comprehend my own thoughts.
Most of the time, I guess.
Then in my peripheral vision,
I see a car's headlights flash by.

Light.
It's always attracted me for some odd reason.
Ironically, darkness seems to be my friend.
More so than light.
Yin & Yang.
They're balanced.
As am I.

Gracefully leaping off the wooden railing,
I make my way back to what I call home.
Is it really home?
Or is it just a house.
In any case,
I take one more look off to my right,
Over my shoulder,
And behold Helios gathering the last of his strings.

In an instant,
The threadbare sky becomes darker, slowly.
Magnificently caressing the lack of luster,
By embedding tiny diamonds into the holes that are seemingly there.
Then, Hercules makes his way unto the stage of darkness,
Radiating brightly.

Slowly shutting the door,
Taking one last gasp of air into my lungs,
I look outside at the silos near my house and wonder:
*Do you two ever get lonely when dusk falls and everyone has faded to black?

What it would be like...
To be loved...

What can I do to myself,

If suicide isn't possible?

When will they come?
With my heart torn out somewhere,
beyond the surface,
I'm sort of just here with no purpose.
Just taking up space at the bottom of the sea.

Well, I took up space above the surface too.
Why didn't I tear out my heart earlier?
Now I'm just gone.
Waiting for the sharks to come and
devour the rest of me.
Nobody will notice.
And even if they do,
They'll get over it and move on.

Why are they taking so long?
I've already lost all of my blood.
Just sittin' here in limbo.
Well, sort of.
I thought sharks loved blood.
Well, not mine of course.
I'm just useless.

Oh, a sound alas!
Motionless, I wait; my eyes closed.
**Finally, I can disappear.

With my heart gone,
Tis' time to wait for sharks.

As I'm sinking into the sea,
                                                                          blood engulfs me;
                                                                                                                                     *endlessly.

Your eyes are like pearls:
Clear.
Your skin reminds me of doves:
White.
Your lips are like newborn peaches:
Smooth.
Your hair is like varnished mahogany:
Soft.

You're reliable, and beautiful.
Thank you.

Everything is so dull.
Looking around, on the sea floor;
Although there isn't much but darkness.

Fortunately, Darkness, you're my friend now.
We've come face to face countless times,
And your brother Death has become close, too.
We're a nice family, a trio.

Although, being a synesthesian, the darkness is
Even darker when certain things flow past.
It's as if I can predict what's to come,
What's in store for me,
In my fate.

Death and Darkness, aren't much of a threat
Anymore.
Although I do fear Death considerably.
Darkness, however, could be my best friend.
I've never had a best friend,
But you're seemingly always here for me.
It's sort of inevitable,
Our little congregation I mean.
Because there are always shadows.

Although it seems I've become like you,
Darkness.
And Death?
You're not being left out, don't worry.
You can relish in your methods later,
I can't avoid it.
For now though,
Let me suffer
Because you will be the one to save me,
As you have many times before.

Then, and only then, will God end my story;
Wherever that may be.

I don't know what to do anymore,
It's time to...

Secluded in the darkness,
trapped behind the bars of Society;
a lonesome figure is enveloped in confusion.
Beyond the bars lay the horizon spread across the landscape,
stretching into the infinity.
Desiring no more than to break free from the isolated realm of the quiet,
the figure makes an abrupt change within itself:
to become an extrovert.
Suddenly, the bars were relinquished;
but a fragment of the figure rested upon the Earth.
The fragment manifested itself,
as though Manifest Destiny herself was reborn,
into another figure.
The figure
                      called itself...
                                                        ...an introvert.

A little, twee serenade for you,
Or perhaps a sonnet for others,
I'm not asking for anything extravagant like, "I do."
Nor do I want you to scurry off beneath your couvers.

Where brother, art thou.
Although, to me, you're more of a sister.
To cradle you, here and now;
Under the galleria of lights, never to deter.

But...you're madly in love with another,
I know.
And it pains me to ask you, for I am not your prince, but a stranger.
It's probably too late, although...

I've mustered up a fragment of hope & courage to ask thee,
Will you go to Prom with me?

What is love?
It's a good question, that's for sure...

Hugging you,
My hand making a glissando
along your hair.

Let your mind fill the spaces between my spaces.
Sentences are never complete,
You know, there's always room for more.
Imagination, like constellations,
And consternation from the procrastination of trying to connect the dots.
Which is which,
Steve Jobs once said to connect the dots of your future and your past.
Perhaps they'll create a Hercules of radiance,
Or a Cerberus of darkness.
In any case, there's always room for more.
Wouldn't "I love you" be better written as "Iloveyou",
Where there is no space for mistakes?