"Why can't the scientist and poet be the same person?", challenged he.
I mused in between consciousness, "We are all human beings in exploding fatalities."
That night you were golden, sprawling right opposite 'AHEAD', tar and nicotine indistinguishable. That's right. They never mattered in the first place. Sometimes I'd wonder where the gray is. Can there ever be an overdose?
"What is harmony?"
"Find someone who can complete your sentence."*
I still shun psychology even if I do see humans in their separate iridescence; who is to say that Black and Red are fundamentals? I guess what I am trying to say is that I am the gray that you are unable to blend in no matter how much white you wear on your sleeve or the limitless amount of black you struggle to gargoyle into being.
///Your fantasies are caged in the little pleasurable bubbles we both conjured.
//and I never once denied.
I wished I had a panoply of pizzas and ice-cream to remind me how alive I am.
'Je suis perdu'
is a wrong spell I hang like oracles on
You knew purple is my favourite hue
you said you'd show me what colour loneliness bleeds
As though the uneven mixture of blue and
tells no stories of their own
That veins are but pulsing mechanisms, our
daily battle with the urge to
are our own Gods
In all perfect naïvete tweak the points in the stars and
That all of a sudden the night sky, starlit and bare, are no longer
whispering secrets or teasing us with the winds.
Remember that desperation for instant
A single affirmation always taken for granted.
We are lonely.
day, I'll know that I shouldn't measure my life with a pair of vernier calipers, constantly on the edge.
2. Some tears are sweeter than others. I hope they sting you when it pours.
3. Today I've learnt that physics taught us nothing; the mere understanding of gravitational force never showed us how to hold ourselves down when we are very alone, and we lay in distinctive fragments on Earth's soul. They term it 'centrifugal' when your heart drums in a cinematic roll, the pounding of feverish masterpieces, life drifting from skin, the essence understood.
4. I watched as my world drizzled backwards, forward. It was never my intention to wait for a tipping point, and never realised what it meant. Not until the bus jolted to a halt.
5. In the ***** month of may, we have grown accustomed to ceaseless "how are you" and "hey there", cooking up meaningless conversations as a sacrifice to Passio. Hatred is no longer an emotion, but a habit I've unknowingly ****** in together with the multitudes of empty promises you ferociously pumped in my lungs.
6. I thought I could change you. I couldn't understand.
7. Can you ever save a black hole from herself?
8. Light scares me because you're too full of it. Maybe that's why you left. You could never illuminate my darkness enough to satisfy our souls.
9. There is always this constant struggle to find reasons for everything. What was I searching for? If only, if only you mused differently in bed.
10. days since you infiltrated. Some days I imagine feelings as metaphors of the purple you left.
"What is the purity of your LSD?"
*"Crystal clear, baby. Crystal clear."
imagine if we wrote 'ampersand' instead of 'and'.
ampersand you invited me into the light, cuddled me senseless in our darkness. i swear i could see for the first time. i told you i loved the sea, but your words crashed like waves on the breakwaters gating my heart.
"bae, we cannot always be beside what we love".
maybe that's the nature of our love. that your deflated buoy can no longer save the drowning me, that you sink deeper in your abyss of ideals.
Today i'm writing a postcard to you from my past, hoping you could extrapolate into the possibilities of our future. We made hypothetical promises in our religious fervour, in the unsettling chill of a certain Midsummer night.
I am the heat of the moment, the fifty dollar casually cast.
I still shine like Gold in the air of Summer.
Your embodiment without her voice
A pleasure, novel.
A careless earnestness spilling out from your mouth after
countless downs of table wine.
I am the Bourbon that gifts sanity.
Your unnecessarily complicated sanctuary.
I rarely write now but if I do
It would seem like you