The only thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that love is inescapable.

Love will find you. Find you naked, shaking in your darkest caverns clinging to heartbreak and faded polaroids with trembling hands. Find you locked up in towers fortified with fear. Find you upside-down. Find you alone once again walking the streets at one in the morning praying for street lights to fade behind you. Find you standing before tombstones or ice cream trucks or a preacher man. Find you hiding from your mother or God or both. Love will find you.

Love will take you. Take you to the place you parked your car that night and noticed for the first time the way their skin in the moonlight had the unspoken power to shatter your own. Take you through the annals and ventricles of your heart and peel away at the scars like super-glued band-aids. Take you to the hills and home again. Love will take you.

Love will bind you. Bind you to your family like the pages in the cookbook your mother used to prepare your favorite meal. Bind you to the girl who makes you shake when she's cold or the boy with eyes warm and clear blue like hot springs. Bind you to yourself. Love will bind you.

Love will break you. Break you down to jigsaw puzzle pieces your grandparents attempt on Friday nights, hands shaking with arthritis, and leave you incomplete. Break you away from your callused convictions and shove a blunt fist into your softest spots and leave you covered in scratches. Break you the way earthquakes break buildings or alcohol breaks families and bones; unforgivably, irreparably. Love will break you.

Love, desperate and strong, simple and tenacious, fiery and fierce.
Love will find you, take you, bind you, and break you.

And you will not escape.

came to visit me again last night
seeping in when i was half asleep
embracing me from the inside
keeping me awake in his presence
he's not a friend
nor a foe
we solely co-exist
then i should probably get accustomed to his presence
regardless how queasy and uneasy he makes me feel
how he makes i small
probably he cares about me
i just need to
     stop
         him
           *******
Stop.

Daytime tells the lies
Sun distracts your thoughts,
Showing how it could be
But nighttime is the truth
It screams it and shouts it
Nothing to look at but reality.

CRUSH

Crush,
The term wouldn’t exist if it doesn’t hurt does it?
When does it start? This feeling,
It grows bigger and larger,
And suddenly I realise,
My heart is on the verge of exploding,
Bursting with emotions that I can’t help but feeling so.

The only thing that I have want to convey and send to you is
‘I like you’, ‘I like you a lot’,
My heart, it hurts,
Evan seeing you from afar, my heartbeat goes crazy,
It's hard to breath,
How do I stop this feeling?
I am tired, I am sad, I am happy, I am anxious,
Because the only thing I have been thinking of is you,
You! You! and only you,

But crush, oh crush,
In the end you’re just a crush,
Those words,
They were never conveyed,
And I silently keep this feeling to myself,
With the faint hope that you’ll return this feeling,
In this feeble heart of mine,
And again, it hurts.

-nuraishahazman-

I barely know you,
Yet my words just spill out with no filter.
I want you to just see me,
Without a mask and a little off kilter.

Crushes are weird.

I'm not beautiful
Or well-bred
I watched my brothers die
I thought I was dead

Saved by a stranger
Who showed that they cared
Wrapped in a blanket
Hungry and scared

Now I just wait
Unsure of my fate
Please come and get me
Its never too late

My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel
I’m standing numb
As feelings sleep
Inside my cold and fragile heart
I’m either trapped inside myself
Or lost in an entangled world.
My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel

sound and noise-
two chapters of the same book.
Sound: the quiet ripening of music notes over wind, or the fluttering of bird and butterfly wings.
Noise: the static between radio stations, gun fire, weeping.

There would be no such thing as the overlooked if there wasn't anything highlighted, and so I would not be writing about our neglect of sadness unless there were such a thing as happiness.

young love and youth and destruction and dreams are all noise, all left in the shadows of their more bright, elder predecessors.

And we mistaken noise for sound more often than not, which makes the ability to hear a blessing and a curse.

For we mistaken a teen's cries as a sign of teen angst, or a mother's book of rules as a restriction of our lives, and the noise we think is being produced is the music of our lives. Sound isn't beautiful, sound is real. Noise is heard, sound, you feel.

So before you go labeling something as noise, remember what is missing: noise implies that everyone can hear, but no one is listening.