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grey grey grey Jun 2017
a rhythm along
the ****** walk
and beneath
my shoes,
leaves in between,
dry, brown, or green,
singing the hymn
of this wicked heat.
Shadowed paths,
arching trees,
a chorus of relief,
A shower of leaves,
a season to live.

A story told
with a handful
of drinks,
a wisp of air,
and a sheet
of faded clouds.
No one’s sad and
no one’s left behind.
The crash of waves,
shores awash,
footprints on the sand,
and even more are stars
up above.
Pillows on our backs,
my head on your shoulders,
sometimes reversed.
a memory that lasts.

a scene played
by you and me,
under these trees,
above this ****** walk,
showered by
falling summer leaves
and yes,
summer leaves,
then rains come pouring down…

a canvas colored
by nature’s beauty,
orange, yellow;
the summer’s hue.
your laughs,
your words;
my summer is you.

I miss you.
I miss you.
grey grey grey May 2017
Can I borrow a little
bit of your time?
Just a couple of minutes,
for you to be mine…
Then after, I’ll be out
and gone.

You see,
I feel a little bit of this
and a little bit of that.
I can’t explain
though I know it’s there.
I know it’s real
but I can’t prove it

Well, you may not understand
but I, I’ve been thinking
’bout you and I-
maybe exaggerating but I
think there’s a little bit of
me that…

I don’t know,
how to phrase it.
It hasn’t left my lips
but already it tastes
a whole lot more absurd
than just thinking about

And I’m afraid it might
seem off,
and out of
Still, I think that

…not really sure why
I’m telling you things,
This little bit of feeling
I myself am unable
to admit to my own…

I just can no longer
keep this inside and
I feel like this is the
right time, so…

If this isn’t making any
sense to you,
it’s because it’s not
making sense to me

…so, what am I doing here?
stuttering ,
wasting both
our time,
trying to tell you
a secret
I have yet to

I know, I know
I haven’t thought about
this well,
sounding crazy and
out of my mind…

I’ve lost all my senses,
fallen off my feet,
swallowed up my pride,
like a drunkard with
my phone on my hand
with your number as a
recipient and still I-
can’t tell you that I…

I, uh-
uhm, I think I ah,
I am…
hmm I am
Oh I am…

There goes my
Why can’t I bring myself
to say that I’m in…

You know what?
My chance’s done anyway,
I’ll try better next time,
If there is such.
grey grey grey Apr 2017
Iron rusted memories cloud my mind;
black and white,
laughs and cries-
All intertwined…

Screaming all together,
wanting to be remembered-
All these ghosts that I once were
All these ghosts that I have conquered.
grey grey grey Mar 2017
for what the crowd wants*

Screams and delighted cheers
bounce against the stadium walls, tall, strong, and fierce
roared by ten thousand strong knowing no fears
all against the man in chains, drowning in tears

Been weighed, been measured, been found wanting
the fiery men standing with their fists pumping
while the beaten one stays still, silently praying
waiting for the justice he knows is never coming
grey grey grey Mar 2017
turning silence into wasted memories*

You **** me everyday with your silence
through that green circle by your name-
a chance to know you more
with just a single tap,
a simple knock,
to turn silence into memories

still, i am content
with just the silence
never will i gather enough courage
to be weird and
bother you,
i guess i’m just
too hesitant to be spontaneous

It’s the space between us
where nothing happens
drowning too deep in my own doubts to clear my mind.
saying it won’t matter anyway, anyhow it goes.
confused and filled with what if’s and could’ve been’s.
hard for me to swallow my pride.
we never should’ve been friends.
but i want to know you more.
I divert my senses to something else.
You’re active now it says.

Nothing more than regret I can do,
I want this feeling to let me go,
want you to just-
and off you go.
grey grey grey Mar 2017
“those who suffer know the struggle”*

I am a broken tinker crying inside,
tending  to other people’s wounds
and letting mine open wide.

I cram my woes into  crowded mounds
then I sit on top of them, guilty and tired.

I feed upon the clamor of the sick,
and I thrive by making a living out of it.
My shoulders are for tears and for generous treats
my words are reserved for those in need.

I spend my days fixing people up real good in no time,
willing them to bellow their suppressed sighs.
And  though I might seem incontestable and bright,
good god, I’ve lost all my faith I once had inside.

Yet, I still dream about the day when everything turns around,
When somebody will hear the quiet sound of my shouts,
someone to do me the things I want be done for me
someone to whisper me what I used to say for people’s bliss.
And maybe it’s sad but it’s comforting to admit-
that I only stay alive just to wait for this to happen to me.

In the meantime, I walk as a tinker with a dying mind,
I feel as free as a man ****** by his own kind.
When i say ‘it’s fine, you’ll get better you’ll see’
what I really want to say is that
I just pray you don’t end up like me.
grey grey grey Feb 2017
“we break things not just as a means of release but also to see
some other thing broken aside from ourselves.”*

You asked me how
I got my hand broken
And I told you it’s
because the walls aren’t
getting any weaker

While I,
I am tired of trying hard
and I’m too worn out to fight

I am fed up with
all the things
I used to love

so I’ve been thinking ’bout
taking my life
but I see the walls
are all around
and I get the urge
to let it out

and so i do…

If I can no longer speak,
the walls would
for me;

they’d tell you a story
on how I turn
into something else
when I’m sad,
and how they stop me
when I’m not
in the right mind
and they’d tell you about
these little scars I have,
and all of the frustrations
I’m keeping inside.

You asked why and
I told you,
’cause they hear me,
when no one else will
and they feel it all,
every inch of my skin
when I lay it on them

so if walls could speak,
they’d tell you how I
hurt them
to hurt me
every single night.

— The End —