It isn't love
If your heart wasn't broken.

On a scale of 1-10, if you could save one person,
and one person only;
who would it be?

Venetian beaches and Parisian streets,
on the other side of the world,
someone is drowning.

Literally.
Drowning.

But on the flip side,
1+1= 2;
or a window to peek outside and see that blue flamingo.
That one,
right there.
Yes, you!

You.
You're the one I would save,
scales impossible to measure the beauty of those architectural realms.
Hurry up and float to me,
you idiot,
because U+I= love.


Or is it the other way around?

Don't
Invoke
Calamity
Through
Ignorance
Of
Not
Always
Remembering­
Yourself.

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.

Merely laying on the ocean floor,

Admiring the surface's mermaid scales.

It's unusually refreshing to meet someone with such a confident personality,
Your unusual accent for a native—
The way, "Oh," sits on your tongue is superlative.
What a strange serendipity for you to come across me.

You ask about my inclinations towards music,
Listening to me wander about my playlists without a sound.
Drawing out the sound of my voice as your heart pounds:
It does the trick.

You warned me about things not to joke about,
Late at night where our minds aren't thinking straight
And my words slip as if fate...
Now you've left without a word, deaf to my shouts.

And here I am writing this poem,
Wondering about the impossibility of meeting somebody so close,
So quickly and intimately; with potential I suppose.
My heart yearns for your return, sadness its hymn.

.I should stop shouldn't I.

What can I do to myself,

If suicide isn't possible?

I can weave the seas
using your heart strings alone.

You wrote to me,
"I don't have to write too much,
because I know we'll keep in touch over the summer!"

But you're gone,
And the one thing you despise the most;
You've done to me.

*Do you know how that makes me feel?!

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

Synonymous to...well, chalk.
You know, the things you would paint the nearby sidewalks with
Your imagination of the world you lived in.
Whether it be slaying dragons or
Flying to the moon with the local-to-your-world unicorn.

Then Mother Nature would come along and renew your canvas.
But really, aside from myself;
People always thought Mother was a pain in their childhoods.
Taking away time from going outside and playing.


No...going outside wasn't an introvert's Life.
Moreso than plucking away at the nearby,
And invasive raspberrie bush.

A toast to the bread that went into the toaster.

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?

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

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.

Letters are really outdated, aren't they?
Lately I've been getting into them again,
Writing to people whom I want to...

Mmm.

Lately the crows have been keeping me company,
silently watching.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Your mom."

"No seriously, who are you talking to?"

"Your mom. Seriously."

"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.

Constantly suffering like this is never a good thing.
It's peculiar to think otherwise.
I mean, I can't really do anything stupid.
Sure, I'll suddenly gain that rush of temporary popularity;
Since the dead are always so glorified,
But when they're living, they're trash.

I mean, isn't that how things work?
Well, that's the cynical, dark way of thinking about it.
What about the reverse?
Alternate dimensions, multiverses of beings that are you.
Six or eight, I forgot the precise number to them.
But the importance is that there are other outcomes,
To the solution you long for.

Then again,
Problems can't really be solved by the conciousness
That created them.
Just like wishes are only a success plan for failure.
Well, what's more important?
To be or not to be?
Pacifism or aggression?

Earnest Hemingway was always active with his words,
But there's nothing wrong with being the other.

Sitting on the horizon, gazing down at the world...
Because that's what it seems like right?
I mean, when you're at the beach, the horizon always appears
Above you.
But the horizon is really the middle of nowhere,
Because the horizon isn't anything much.
The world isn't technically a sphere,
And there are no such things as "straight lines" in Mother Nature's world.

So really,
The next time you "expand your horizons"
When battling your problems;
Why take the effort to,
When you're already on top?

There is no horizon
When you're drowning in the sea.

Hey boy,
We meet again.

Give her this:
favourite flower.

Clinging to conformity,
Craving crisp, new ideas
To install into individual ideas.

Instead newborn newbies,
Never knew the needles
That would nip them if they came close to,
Anything else.


*Down came the rain,
And washed the spider out.

Her horoscope was ready, and she wanted to read it.
It was 12:30 AM.

She's a Scorpio.
I'm an Aries...


*but a Cancer at heart.

Really...
Just sitting here in front of my computer screen,
And I'm supposed to write this composition about my feelings;
Or whatever.
Something like that.

But really, I don't want to.
I just want to expose those "feelings" to people,
So people can just feel the radiation and pressure of everything
I'm going through.
Don't worry darling,
I'll bear your problems as mine melt into yours.
You needn't worry about simple, and trivial things like...
I don't know: Love, Life, & Happiness.
Just let me come into you.

Coming closer isn't a bad thing.
I mean, as much as I despise *** and all that weird
Tentacle stuff that human males do to women...
Okay maybe that was a bit explicit,
But don't worry I'll check the box down below;
Because that's what people nowadays want from you.
Right?

They don't want your heart as much as I want it.
They want your body, your clothes, your money.
All that nonsensical phooey that is absolutely unnecessary.
I promise you, I can live my Life without those things.
Happiness isn't money, and your clothes don't determine your louver.

So don't fret.
Just take me in, and I'll take you in.
We're not going anywhere,
We're not going to fall;
Because I'm not strong enough to catch you.
I won't steal anything materialistic from you,
Because it's unnecessary to me.

You on the other hand,
You have your problems with these things;
But again, don't worry darling.
I'm here for you.
Well, not really;
Since eventually we'll become one.
I mean, you are giving me your heart right?

Of course, in exchange for my...well, what I would personally call:
my Book.
Now this isn't any book. No, you won't find this in your local library,
Or somewhere in the depths of the sea with the other ******* people call treasure.
But this is certainly a treasure of itself,
I mean.
It's mine. What more could someone want?
Perhaps that sounded sort of conceited, but that wasn't the point.
The point was that I'm basically giving you me.

Now, I don't know who I am;
So what you make of this Book is of yourself to choose.
But again, you won't be yourself anymore;
Because my Book will replace your heart.

Don't worry though.
I'll cherish your heart,
More than any boy or girl out there ever will;
Because I'm not human.
I'm a tool.
A machine.
Because without me, the World wouldn't function the way it does.
The same goes for you.
Without you, the World isn't the World anymore.

Now you're probably thinking,
"Well, this person is just absurd.
I mean, we die and then we cease to exist...
Or something along those lines, right?"
Yeah, right.
I mean, we don't know what happens after we die;
Because we're not dead yet.
So we can't confirm that
But we can confirm...
I mean, you can confirm...
I mean....
Wait. If you're giving me your heart,
And...
I'm giving you my Book,

*Where do we go?

Contemplating marriage,
Among other things.
The thought of having someone beside me
Whose completely, consistently, confidently
By my side for the majority of the day
Is exciting.

Especially one such as myself,
One whose mind is filled with consternation
And an inability to assauge inaction.

Something as simple as holding hands
And introducing her to several of my favourite bands;
Strolling along the sands,
Traveling the world and all its lands.

Boys around me complain at the thought of being cuffed,
But I'd consider myself chuffed --
Seeing a mutual love that wasn't bluffed,
Teasing her with little jokes as she huffed and puffed.

Only having met you for several moments yesterday,
The conversation having begun with something similar to a, "Hey."
Your friend Jude seemed to keep you at bay,
A bashfulness overcoming you, something you couldn't allay.

If I may,
You reminded me so much of Shae.

Placing my hand
Along your neck,
Touching the place,
Where everything started.

The pulse point beneath your chin.
The place where I can really,
Truly,
Touch your heart.

I wish I could delve into the depths of your mind,
And so that way...

I wouldn't have to deal with the constant thoughts
That drive me everyday into a corner.
That make me want to just...

Die.

So then I could help you out of your many problems,
So I don't go on the adventures that would make me fall in love with you
Over and over again.

So...

I can just be selfish.

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

I don't know what to write.
My inspiration to has left me.

Just like everything else in this world,
but few;
But even those few,
Leave occasionally.

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?

Just when I thought I've found you,
Behind my back,
Speaking of the most wretched things,
Breaking me.

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

Hey boy,
Please treat her right, okay?

**Or I will.

This isn't a poem of rhymes and games,
Oh no.
I'm here to tell you that Love isn't something that hurts.

Your mind believes all the lies you constantly tell it,
The wishes that create problems that,
Guess what?!
Were never there to begin with.

Just embrace the fact that you're in Love.
Nobody falls "in" and "out" of Love.

It's not a substance.
It's not the catalyst to living a
"Happy life".

I feel like people are constantly
Corrupting what Love is.
You don't describe a word,
With more words.

It is,
What it is.

Don't try to make it something it's not.
Don't try to make it personal.
Don't try to define it.
Don't try to possess it.

Just...
STOP.

/breath

I'm not here
To tell you a poem of rhymes and games.
I'm here to tell you that Love doesn't hurt.
It never will.
Never should.

Ever.
Should you think otherwise,
Just look back at the person,
Place,
Or thing,
That you associated yourself to loving.
Think back.

Take a breath.
Breathe.

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.

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

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

Wading through the sea of people
I surround myself with,
Learning my efforts often go to naught;
Stressing over everything,
When really I should be fretting over nothing.

"Where's someone that will stay,"
I wonder,
"When will I find that reassurance again."

Sometimes people don't really
Understand the
Remarkable,
Perennial, things of
Regretting seizing the day.
Instead, they'll dwell on it and
Sometimes,
Everyone is suddenly brought
Slowly into the problem that was never there to begin with.

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

We're both alone,
Separated by thousands of miles.

*It's okay.

Me,
On drugs?
Nah.

Or rather
Thinking about it just makes me sick.

One-of-a-kind, sick.


Nobody really thinks about
One thing at a time, instead they'll try to
Understand pictures in their entirety.

*Silly people.

Well, I never thought

I could disappear into the night.

"Hey."

"Oh yeah, definitely."

"I see."

"Wait."

"No just a minute."

"Who are you?"

"I'm talking to you, but am I the one talking?"

"No no, who are you?"

"Are you talking to me? Or is it the other way around?"