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1. Tuck snakes-and-ladders under the bed for your monsters’ play. You’ve grown too smart for this. Take a sip, and plan meticulously for the next move. Checkmate, you should say it with a straight face all the time. Life is but a series of games for some; yet a series of well-thought jokes for others.

2. We were pawns, yet we pretend we weren’t.

3. Chivalry is but a dream for the hopeful. Every tactic would be used in war, just for survival. A mask is just an armour in disguise, and I do not plan on asking for forgiveness.

4. Who can you believe? Your right-hand man? Or your left? Hand me a bow and arrow and I wouldn’t hesitate to point it at you.

5. I have died once, and I’m not afraid to face death again.  

6. In the end, we were only as good as prisoners of war. Only the like-minded triumphs in this madness.

7. Why are you forcing your beliefs on me? I won’t greet you in the morning with my knees on the ground. So please, stop trying to move in grace, as if you fell from it.

8. I am just thinking about the next habitant of this mausoleum. Embalm these glorious feats. And leave behind the emptiness in this chest. Don’t look at me that way. You only have yourself to blame.

9. I won't be another one of these carcasses stacked in this pyramid, for you to ascend this ******* throne. If I can’t have victory, neither can you. Now tell me, what is a king without his soldiers?

i have it easier cocooned in the sand
i can't breathe but it's warm in here
i can't walk a sandstorm in the desert place
i really can't

i do not need an oasis
just a voice to keep me safe
even if it's only the mere existence
i can find the strength that i need
i really can

some have skins like the bark of a tree, with names of each lover that has passed engraved in them.
some have hands like the branches of a tree, with veins showing on every little scrawny finger.
some have shoulders like the leaves of a tree, with emerald canopies that shelter souls from a thunderstorm.
some have feet like the roots of a tree, chained to the ground with their heads in the cloud.

Bones are ****** dry and carcasses are licked clean
Voices are taken away
Who would be there to tell you,
that you do not deserve this?
They are obliged to make every dream of yours
a combination of different hells.
The banshee is a devil,
for she daren't call for you;
and you daren't call for her.

These staircases spiral into traps
and the sun cuts these diamonds like a blade;
the night hides all the faces you have ever dreamed of
and sleep leaves you drenched in the venom of your very own fears.
Few knew how many battles have been fought in a losing war
and fewer knew better than to make it out half alive.

Perhaps a blessing in disguise,
or a master of disguise:
when they leave you alone, they really do.
and it'd be less of a chore
to speak to yourself, instead of for yourself
or to those around you.
An eagle is born to be held captive-
and when they will you to fly,
you would.

Some wake in the dusk
Some brew the wrong cup of coffee
Some brew the same kind of storm
It's hard to know if you were awake
or alive
when your name never did sound right
coming from someone else's lips.

AND I'M ******* SORRY FOR BRINGING MY HEART TO YOU BUT LEAVING MY SOUL IN THE ******* BACKYARD BUT YOUR EYES WEREN'T EVEN ******* OPEN I MEAN LIKE YOU WOULD'T EVEN KNOW IF I WAS IN A ******* COMA FOR ****'S SAKE YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S SUFFERING SO STOP DROWNING IN ******* THIN AIR I WISHED SOMEONE DID WAKE ME UP BEFORE I DECIDED TO GIVE MY WRETCHED SOUL TO THE ******* BACKYARD LIKE WHAT THE **** DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME AM I SUPPOSED TO LEND MY ******* SHOULDER TO YOU WHILE YOUR SCREAMS BREAK THESE ******* SKELETONS THAT I SPENT SO LONG TO REASSEMBLE I SAY EITHER YOU STOP PRETENDING OR THAT I BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE ******* SERIOUS AND I HOPE YOU WOULDN'T END UP IN THE ******* GRAVEYARD BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY ******* HEART AND I AM SURE I WILL BE GUILTY FOR THIS BUT HOW THE **** AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE A CONSCIENCE WHEN MY HEART IS WEAK I JUST WISHED YOUR SORROW DIDN'T BRING MINE BACK. DID YOU HAVE TO END THE CALL? DID YOU? TELL ME, DID YOU? PLEASE DON'T END YOUR LIFE.

if we were made of stardust,
why do we not shine as bright as the stars?
are we dead on the inside,
like the diamonds we see in the skies?
are we darker than the shadows that
it overpowers the light inside of us?
why do we destroy ourselves,
when the stars gave up their lives for us mortals?

i woke in an asylum ward.

the skies were replaced by tainted walls
and the sun, by a menace clock
the second hand clicked its tongue
60 fifes and the minute hand waves
every hour, a blade-like hand
drags my knees across the polished floor
and i wonder why they bothered
paving the ground for me
when my skin only tore like glass
flesh exposed and the doctors do not see

my fingers hurt from the hands i hold
but i can't let go.
what if i run out of time?

the smell of chemicals overpowers
the scent of flowers
the epitome of time was the wilting
as i am dragged out of sight

they say time will tell
but all i hear is the hollow echoes
of sharpened clockworks
i fear a wrong move will throw the sparks
into the gas tank that we drink from

my name is not on this bracelet
the doctors draped across my wrist
and if i don't tear these walls apart,
these hands might drag me into a morgue.

;it irks me.*

Once you get used to it, you fall into a habit. You know it is hurting you but you have no will of stopping. It's like an adrenaline rush you get while speeding on the highway; the only difference is that every second you feel like your bones are crashing. And that is as though you are not a wreck, yet.

You never wanted to get a hold on anyone, or let anyone get a hold on you. This way, you'd never have to let go. Sometimes you wished you would lose your grip on the steering wheel- you were driving a hearse. Just as a carnival is not complete without a couple of thrills, a self-celebratory festival is not complete without a free fall down the cliff. There's something exhilarating about pain that keeps you awake, and somehow you thought that happiness takes your consciousness away. They say when you hit rock bottom, there's no way to go but up. Have you ever seen what's at the end, though? Just a pile of scrap metal, splinters, and broken bones. There is no difference between a dwelling built from wood and nails, from a coffin.

If they said you were a star, is that why anyone who gets too close to you ends up getting scorched? If they said you were an ocean, is that why people never cared if they drowned in love? If they said you were the sky; is that why you were always so out of touch, as if you were never one with the world?

people say the waves
kisses the beach
people say the wind
carasses the shore

but all the waves
did were to bring
away loose gravel
each time it hits coast.

and all the wind did
was to whisper sweet
nothings while stealing
the fine, white sand.

they suffocated the
corals out at sea
and stripped the
beauty off the place.

You could say i have the heart of a miser, but you can't say I do not have one. For it beats in my chest, threatening to sweep this head off my neck with tsunamis of sickening blood. As if i had infinite emotions to gnaw at. My soul seem to be a bottomless pit, eternally craving to be fed. And I never knew how to satisfy it. I seem to be different from the others. Void of emotions. Speaking only to stir trouble, on the sorry excuse of giving myself reasons to feel. I had no clue about the inability to communicate with my mother. We hardly exchange words, and those that escape my tightly sown lips were only to spite her. But they were words from the very end of this bottomless pit, which all sums up to "I lost all I respect".

I've stated in the beginning, I have the heart of a miser; I have not forgotten the words she told me 30 odd days back. If elephants never forget, then I guess I have these ivory tusks made to cut like a hunter's spear on anything that's alive. Cut off anything that's okay. Turn everything that is okay into something that is not. Explosive cars and houses set ablaze are akin to fireworks; the only thing that seems to catch my eyes anymore. And the smoke that lingers smells like a house freshly painted; addictive. That is until they smother my skin. I can't help but cringe at the monster in the mirror. I wasn't like this. I don't know how I've come to this. I don't know why.

The words that mothers say are lessons taught to their children. So i suppose I've learnt that I am a ***** and that I'm better off dead. 30 odd days. Are you proud of me, Mum? I have not forgotten what you taught. Today you screamed. I would like to say the spit that landed on my skin burnt like acid. But truthfully, I don't feel a thing. You asked for the wrong that you've done. You screamed into my face, DO NOT CALL ME YOUR MOTHER. I AM NOT WORTHY, as yours contorted so much I could almost feel something. Mum, I'm not worthy to tell you what you've done wrong for I don't feel a tad sorry for what I turned us into. It was a mistake to give birth to me. I'm not even sure if I missed what we used to have. I can't remember what we had.

I'm sorry if this house ever burns to the ground.

Mum, I wish I wasn't a monster.

Maybe some believed in cracks in the pavement more than intricately carved stones
And you preferred protecting others to being protected
Till now, I have not figured if we felt like the same home.

That layer of dust on your seat did not spell
The words I thought your bones would
And I chose not to believe when she told me about you
See maybe she was wrong
But she was the reason you never got out of your house since March last year

How does it feel to see silhouettes walking past your bed in the day?
You can be sure they weren’t ghosts but I was certain
There’s something under my bed
How does it feel to go against God’s wishes?
I don’t believe in Him, but I have the answer.
And you still are the same to me.

You wouldn't say it was okay
That I was a few hours late
But you said we should be happy tonight
And we wouldn't stop looking back
Till the trees cut you from my sight
And the trees cut me from your sight.

I remember the firm fist pumps you would give
And how we’d get excited over a keyboard game
I remember how the cool evening breeze
Swung the chair by your friend’s patio
Till the skies turned dark blue
Our emotions weren't any shade of that

We finished counting stars in the city in just a few seconds
Before miles and miles of land and sea shall grow
And all the voices get littered in between
But it didn’t matter that we wouldn't stare at the same moon

For I believe five years down the road,
We’d exchange weeds we uprooted from between the cracks
And we would forgo the ugliness
Because you will be strong, and I will too.

Spring lasted especially long this week.
I
danced alongside the tall grass,
wondered about butterflies breathing the same air as me,
competed with the rays of sunshine.

But even in spring, there were storms.
I knew it would end.

So, who's next in line?
Autumn? Winter? Summer?

Winter.
It was pitchblack.
The night came too soon.
                   So I threw my ashes into the fireplace
                   and it lit up the room for a little while.

Autumn.
I saw red
eyes like autumn leaves.
Last night
                  I couldn't fall asleep,
                  so I held a candle to the devil.

Summer.
I heard myself breathe.
My palms shouldn't slip out of what I was holding on to.
                  and sweat shouldn't taste like metal.
                  I.....

I tasted metal and I SAW
RED
It watched me rearrange everything in my room
but nothing was put in place.
                   Clothes weren't the only thing that were folded
                   and these creases I wear on my skin couldn't be ironed out.

The blizzard took everything away.
It was pitchblack
I swear I saw myself in the mirror,
but I wasn't there.
                   And I swear you were there,
                   but I wasn't.

I breathed.
Tried to do so quietly.
Not wishing to leave any footprints in the sand,
                  I ended up bringing a shoe full of sand home.
                  That night,
I watched the sandcastle I build crumble into thin air.

IT WAS PITCHBLACK. Where am I?
I HEARD MYSELF BREATHE. Stop breathing.
I SAW RED. There's a hole in the wall shaped like a fist.
I HEARD MYSELF BREATHE. I can't look into your eyes.
IT WAS PITCHBLACK. Where is everyone?
I HEARD MYSELF BREATHE. I'm sorry.
I SAW RED. I saw blue too
                       I watched the tides wash the bones I used to carry
                       and the skin I used to wear
                       away every night.

Red. Pitchblack. Breathe. Pitchblack. Pitchblack. Red. Breathe. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. I'm sorry.  BREATHE. BREATHE. BREATHE.

I watched the seasons change against the sun's will.
I waited
               for the calm after a storm.

I wished for them to stop.

I do not want spring, summer,  autumn, or winter
                         Just give my skin and my bones

**back to me.

They say the sense of hearing
is the last to leave,
I hope you are louder than
my demons' screams.

i have always thought these blinds were an indemnity. i have always opened letters with a knife and wondered if the sun would one day stop leaving kisses in my letterbox. i admit i do miss warm embraces. i yearn to wind up the blinds for i've gotten tired of dancing with dusts, with what little lights that creep in and muffled voices as accompany. these mannequins won't speak and i've had enough of playing hopscotch by the stairwells. after all, how clean is the water from the well these days? if sonatas could lull me to sleep, i want to feel safe in the sound of a person's voice again. i want to know that my touch is not lethal, but electric. i want to know that the machines on these roads won't ****. i want to know that my footprints are not stains. i want to know that living in my own skin was never a sin. i am not a sinner.

I wish I was stronger than this
I'm caving in again
I wish I was better than this
I can't seem to take away the pain

If I was given a chance
To go back in time
Maybe my soul would be
Worth more than a dime

If silence isn't surrounded by voices
And rusty skulls could flake
Maybe I wouldn't have embraced
These desires to fade

I wish I do not feel so alone
In this 40 square feet
But no one knows the darkness
Better than those who seen it

Life has been kind to me, I just haven't been kind to myself.

26/1/14
I was burning the midnight oil. There was not a candle in front of me. Just lights that never wavered. I was wondering what the night might hold. I heard the clock and chimes as the cold wind blew into my house. The bells belonged to my neighbours. I did not sleep a wink that night.

27/1/14
I don't remember what happened two days ago, but I was glad my mind was too tired to overthink. I fell asleep early that night to music I liked.

28/1/14
I had the urge to destroy myself in the evening but a friend brought a smile to my face just in time. She didn't know. I don't know if I was grateful that she foiled my plans. I thought that the worst place to ever be was between ok and not ok. Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore.  Sometimes I feel accomplished just by deciding which way to walk so I wouldn't run into the person walking in front of me. Sometimes I rather not have a family and I can't recall the reason why. I hate the me I do not know, my mind is revolting. I am in this by myself, no one is as hateful as me. I lose my thoughts a lot because my mind never stops running and searching for the scattered pieces. I don't fancy the idea that being emotionally unstable is now a personality trait. I used to show my anger to everyone but not anymore. I just want to be alone and write and write and write and write. Funny how a week ago I was too numb to feel a thing. I couldn't feel and I couldn't write and I did not feel alive. Then there's a sudden realisation that there is so many people around me, I do not fancy this idea. I did not have the intention to get better. I still watch everyone like a hawk, and I realised sadness makes you forget things. I was late for school today. I promised a teacher I will never be late again. I hope I keep my promise.

It's night time now and I am thinking about how I used to wonder how it will feel to step out onto the road and crash head on headlights. I travelled to an old friend's house to lend her a chemistry textbook. She still sounds the same and I missed how we used to laugh together. I passed by the market and remembered how my mum used to prop groceries in the pram and leave me to my own tiny feet. I forgot if I preferred walking, or my mum pushing me on the wheels. I remember how I wanted to leave this place, now I am just afraid I might have nothing to look back on. Sometimes when it rains, I want to go outside. I haven't been out getting close and getting hurt and I wonder if that's a good thing. I have thoughts that replaced regrets and devastation, but it still leads to nowhere. I was thinking, maybe I've suffered long enough to know that things will be okay.

29/1/14
It's been a few days and I still do not know whether to eat blueberries or strawberries. I did not notice the sidewalk cracking. I wonder if I have recovered because I am back to where I started. If you insist,  label me as someone who was too "lazy" to get better. They say to never let anything be your happiness because they can be taken away, but I don't think I ever knew what makes me happy. My dad finally got a sofa today but I liked the feeling of my back against the ground. I get affected so easily, little things change me and I can't recall a time I was ever me. I'm not sure how long I will stay awake tonight. I realised you don't always need a knife to- I am indefinite.

"shop closed"
the sign never sat
perfectly on any hook
or nook
or cranny
you are an echo bounced
perfectly in every hook
and nook
and crook

"considered sold once broken"
consider it done
once dealt with the devil
his ornamental fairies
consider them whole before
they were bought

"trespassers will be prosecuted"
bedsheets spun out of cobwebs
sandcastles spun in of air
floorboards swallow you in
you dreamt of
anchoring yourself
to the ground

"wine house"
lustre of turbulent pirouttes
trapped within the walls
of wine glasses and
wine-stained dresses
in cadavers' masquerade

"emergency only"
they pushed you in the operating theatre
and cleaned their hands with soap
opera
amputate these phantom limbs
pain has been the only anaesthesia

"in loving memory of"
he is the protagonist
he is the antagonist
and all stories end*
(with)              
                     the former

After all this time, I have learnt to write in the dark. See, this jukebox plays every night and it wouldn’t shut up no matter the pounds I fed. Such is the night of a writer; it goes on shuffle and repeat. And sometimes I hear your voice. Most times, it sounded like folding a picture of us and keeping it in the pockets of a stranger’s jeans, probably ending up tumbled and dried. I ask myself if it could have been a painted canvas. It’s just the thought of you that haunts me at night. If you ever do heart to heart talks, let’s talk about haunted houses. Some people get out of it; some don’t; some re-enter just for the thrill of it. I might be all three and I might not be the most played song in your playlist. I have tried several times to write about you, but none of them sounded right when I read them out loud. Some may write what they believe and some may write to believe; I might or might not be both. If I survived writing this prose, how could I be sure if it was your voice haunting me or if you were just a house I sought refuge in? The Northern Lights stays in the Aurora Zone; no one said that they’d ever Go West. Your skin on mine was like a child holding on to candy, I never wanted to let you go. When I wake, I only wonder if you have ever missed me at 3a.m.. I could make a mixtape titled: I heard you in these songs. But you were one who basked in the light. So I guess it’s safe to say that what was written in the dark stays in the dark.

waking up to empty leather seats
they smelt nothing like you, not even near
the blurred vision of the orange skies
is it because of my tears?
the dews that formed on the windscreen
captured sweet memories of you,
your favourite song's playing on the radio
but there's just static in my mind.

those sunflowers we grew together
they're drooping down and brown
just like the sunset i detest now,
wilted without your love.
remember how you joked
about where i will be without you?
i guess i know the answer now,
i'll be here under the skies.
while my soul is nowhere near,
still in search for the same sun
that bloomed when i was in your arms.

the skies are getting dark
the moon, the stars are getting up
it didn't take much to realise
that we are so much the same.
the moon longing for the sun miles away
how i long for you six feet under;
the dead stars shining so brightly
how i smile ever since you brought
a part of me with you to your grave.

i guess i'll shut my eyelids when the days arrive
i'll kiss you in my dreams where you were still alive.
nowadays the sunrise are hideous
people wonder why i never looked at the skies,
the brightness will pierce deep in my skin
while it reminds me of your smile,
and the cuts will drip pools of blood
painting pictures of you.
and while my heart breaks to pieces
you will still stay
because you are safely engraved
in each and one of them.

nothing's the same anymore
and i have become dead,
the beauties of the world
i could no longer see,
i hope you know that all i need now
is for you to hold me near.

please whisper in my ears,
please tell me you are still here.

Your ashes still burn in my throat. You were a fire I never should have set eyes on. These hungry flames left your name on the walls and all I wish is that you had covered your tracks because I still find myself hoping to find something I could throw away- I just want to be rid of you entirely.

Your voice is the only melody I've missed.

I guess the easiest way to **** someone isn't by saying goodbye; you never said it. The worst part is dealing with your absence and presence all at once. Time was on our side, I thought. Nights were short, but enough to be remembered. Perhaps dreams don't always come true, and nightmares don't really end. I wouldn't wish for you to stay, but I wasn't ready to get used to days or nights without you; and I don't want to right now. I'd rather be a stubborn stain, than be clean forgotten by you. Maybe I'd turn numb from the cold shoulder you've been shoving into my face; maybe only a frostbite would suffice. I can barely take seeing you in these places where we used to be. When you left, you took away what I thought you poured into me. I wouldn't have known emptiness could be so hard to carry.

I'd take my time. Maybe some days it'd hurt less, and I'd miss you less. Just today, I'm still lost without you.

You know, sometimes people who don't deserve your thoughts come to mind. And you are one of those.
Maybe that is why it is dangerous to let your mind wander. Every wanderer needs a lodging for the night, and you so happened to be that old, tattered shelter in sight.

Some hate rhymes- it's juvenile, for the imbecile.

Some seem to find comfort in it- like the hem of her dress she fiddles with; like the feeling of his teeth, against teeth. It's like seeing old paths in the woods, as though you will never lose your way.

The idea of you was so easily uprooted with even the slightest winds. Fancy naming someone after a hurricane. I wasn't sure if that was heartbreak. After all, you never held it. It slid right out my throat along with the words I said to you. And I wish I could take them back.

I am over you, really. But I can't help that the thought of you always hits home. After all, you were a place I dwelled in for such a long time. Even after you were long gone.

Fill this tastevin with something- anything. Your unsaid words tasted foul. And I just want any trace of you to be removed from the tip of my tongue.

For you were a cliffhanger; and I was hanged.