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Restraining my feelings for you drives me insane
I missed you so bad and it hurts
You're my every love song
I'm sorry I’m this pathetic
I can't stop thinking about you
God I can't help it
You're the first person I think in the morning
****. I’m madly inlove with you am I?
I've been even dreaming about you
(The heck is happening on me?)
I'm so into you..
So into you..
So into you.
You're perfect but you're not perfect for me
and lastly I love you..
Yup, you heard me.
I do. I love you..
and might as well keep this to myself.
Found this on my backup files. This was the time that I haven’t confessed my feelings for you that it drivea me crazy. Haha. Time flies so fast.
sleep isn't my friend
yet I lay awake
eyes closed
With hidden hands,
the curtain clung to the wall
and cascaded like a waterfall
down to the floor.

Smothering the window
and draping an old side table,
rendering it derelict
- a lifeless silhouette.

Quarter way down from the ceiling,
the curtain parted just a sliver.
Allowing a lone ray to visit between
ambling clouds.


One on the outside can’t fully see
the darkened workings
of a confined mind.

I, on the inside...
Can’t see past the cloth
fastened stubborn
over my weary eyes.
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
I have been picking up more poetry lately
tightly bound in little books
ink blots on long gone trees

I hope that by reading more poetry
more lines and rhymes and colorful analogies
I could become a writer with words worth reading

I have read those books with prose
disguised as poetry, lacking meaning
and depth with such phrases like
You Are Air and I Breathe You In

I cannot stand the uselessness of prose
without thought
but I also cannot stand poetry
without impact

But I will keep collecting poetry
someone's thoughts on delicate pages
in case I happen upon someone else's words
worth reading
you are broken
when you don’t realize
love will make a fool of you.
even when all the signs tell you to run,
you choose to stay,
convincing yourself that you were made for this.
like our love story was one worth it all
we fought for nothing
thinking that everything will work itself out.

thinking that everything will work itself out,
we we fought for nothing,
like our love story was one worth it all.
convincing yourself that you were made for this,
you chose to stay,
even when all the signs tell you to run,
love will make a fool of you,
when you don’t realize,
you are broken.
soon or perhaps sooner
the ultimate upgrade
will be the game-changer
Quixote’s been chasing

from **** to robo-sapien
by slight of man’s
intelligent design
coded to perfection
like heaven;

an ailing heart replaced;
a failing lung recharged;
the vigor of youth reclaimed;
the rigors of age erased;

with a singular click
or flick of a switch
on the wall to eternity
and beyond
where nanotechnology reigns
and the human brain
is a dial-up modem.

~ P

ode to technological singularity
I love when
Your hand
Runs from my legs
To my waist
From my hair
To my neck.

I love when
You look
From my eyes
To my lips
From the ground
To my silhouette.

I love when
You trace
From my cheek
To my chin
From my jaw
To my chest.

I love when
You kiss
From my wrist
To my fingers
From my ear
To my eye.

I love when
You love
From my head
To my feet
From my beginning
To my end.
I found you

lone brick, of a million, one part of a mortared whole

your brothers now buried by time, without benediction  

progeny of clay, shale, you were born in a kiln as hot as all creation

dragged to this plain by spoked wheel and mule--sweat of the honest illiterate

long before the dusters blew the crops to hell, and Tom Joad's kin to the promised land

the mason who laid you in a proud straight row is now in the ground too

not a mile from you, where the county put him the hot Friday a man set foot on the moon

the bricklayer’s days with the trowel long past, his memories of you, your place in all weathers interred with him  

I found you , and you are the man’s legacy, he yours
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