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Jul 2014 · 843
Divided.
aegeanforest Jul 2014
"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.
aegeanforest Jun 2014
I wished I had a panoply of pizzas and ice-cream to remind me how alive I am.
Jun 2014 · 904
Foray.
aegeanforest Jun 2014
'Je suis perdu'
is a wrong spell I hang like oracles on
our lips
You knew purple is my favourite hue
yet
you said you'd show me what colour loneliness bleeds
As though the uneven mixture of blue and
black
tells no stories of their own
That veins are but pulsing mechanisms, our
daily battle with the urge to
control
We
are our own Gods
In all perfect naïvete tweak the points in the stars and
misalign fates
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
gratification
A single affirmation always taken for granted.
We are lonely.
And loneliness,
is red.
Jun 2014 · 1.0k
grit.
aegeanforest Jun 2014
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."
Jun 2014 · 1.1k
You and me.
aegeanforest Jun 2014
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.
Jun 2014 · 908
You cannot save me.
aegeanforest Jun 2014
I am
a Stereotype.
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.

*Seek me.
Feb 2014 · 779
euphoria.
aegeanforest Feb 2014
I rarely write now but if I do
It would seem like you

never existed.
Jan 2014 · 520
Untitled
aegeanforest Jan 2014
Don't shoot phrases like "it's true" or "that's right". So downright rude. So underwhelming. It's glaring with 'you're unconvincing and you're fine with that'. Respect words, period.
aegeanforest Jan 2014
I want to be perpetually drunk and/or preoccupied so that I wouldn't have to think about missing someone, or finding out that I have no-one to miss, at all, so that I don't have to be conscious of people and their reactions towards my everything  (because actually, I am rather afraid to lose them). I can feel every one drifting away to a place where I have no slight intention to go onshore.  I wished I had no memory of memory at all. It's rather tiring.



I have so much anger in me that cannot be washed away by late-night whiskey, that I whip myself senseless even when no offence was taken by anyone, that a constant anxiety of my mediocrity which floods over this miniature seawall of mine, inundating my mind. I am a body of sadness that no-one bothers to comprehend, anymore. Everything is already reflected in my uncertain calligraphy, those lines of varying thickness, a corporate perfection.


Sometimes we don't really have to burn bridges.

Neither do we know how to mend them.

"It's too hard", they said.
"Why bother?", he said."
"Don't care", concluded she.
aegeanforest Jan 2014
Pour whiskey into the tub of ice cream
pour whiskey into milo dead sea
pour whiskey into everything
a bed of you and me
We
are so out of touch with reality;
Midnight curfews and bowls swooshing with earl grey tea
This,
is equally avant-garde and anarchy your apparel
fits me to a T,
Fed your whispers to the bumblebees.
Promises bloomed
appropriately
Like a dandelion waking to the embrace of
spring;
I know we have secularized
Badly
You are in search of something,
Lost in my face-
a burning map in those ancient dialects you once
dreamt.
You thought they tasted little
like cream.
I forgive your closet of limited vocabulary,
myself more caught in the engineering
Or what it was supposed to be.
You really have to know,
Everytime you speak
I want to get a lobotomy.
You
spelt my name
Wrongly
Twenty-secondth time
It hung
like a forgotten anniversary.


I’m pathetic at poetry I’m sad at rhymes,

*Goodbye, literally.
Dec 2013 · 580
tell me why.
aegeanforest Dec 2013
I wished I was the one leaving.


I wished a leaf had more significance to their battered bodies marked by footprints so carelessly left behind by people who proclaimed "I care".


I wished I knew how to stop.
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
For Vic.
aegeanforest Dec 2013
I wonder how many suicidal exes does it take for you to finally understand that it's not the dimples in their cheeks that you should be looking out for, but the pimples and blemishes vaguely hidden under powder and cream, the plasters over her arm screaming out for attention that you couldn't care less to give, and the invisible wounds slashed across her heart that only serves to remind the ever forgetful you that you are all human beings, extremely vulnerable, and always, always, needing love.

//We are no longer thirteen when you first met the boy that you thought was your world, or sixteen when you ran down the stairwell just when he kicked open his door, inviting. *** was never an option, but a choice.

///You need to understand that there is no Utopia in Ethiopia when humans are raging war on the pretext of peace
Or maybe it's just the myopic us because really, what measures happiness?

////"Happiness is a mediocre standard for a middle-class existence", but you know what?

*it's not okay to be ******* mediocre, but even worse to just be average.
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Ennui.
aegeanforest Dec 2013
Your Violet is Violent
Strength of your palm hot
on my cheeks
force like the delicate pressing of
Baby Breaths
in between pages of my heart that
is no longer filled with the obscurity of
you.

White, blank, pages, grey with
                                                            ­            eraser dust
Corroded memories of the
                                                                ­                   past
Always aching,
             longing,
for what was to become.

Only the Settling of the
owls hooting
in the Australian Dark

Rotting paper
                                                           ­       your first intake of ****

The hark of lark,

Unintentional reminders
of light
Nursing your paper heart as I
as I
as I

as I wait with *Bated Breath.
Nov 2013 · 631
mild.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
he longed for a sip of her voice.





she is his eternal excitement.
Nov 2013 · 1.1k
Dichotomy at 2.10 a.m.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
You promised you’ll fly me to Ottawa, the Pacific pulling us miles away while the waves crest and crashed inside me, birthing life, presenting us a single heart that will beat to infinity, with the comfortable doubt of whose infinity will be reached first. Second. Third. And during the fourth of July instead of being out in the placid air that penetrates, we protected our glass heart under the pristine sea of blankets, the booming of fireworks at the other end of the world bearing themselves barely audible, but whispering in the whimper of the billowing winds. That matters not anyway, because they’re all but fleeting images that slips through minds like silk, transient and unfeeling. People oftentimes sees them in a myriad, but who knows maybe deep down, they are just like us both, gradients of black and white, the intensity grey. You mused your longing for a gentle touch that is almost maternal, condensing your grey into a video call, thirty six hours and counting, filled with surrealism as we wandered along Windsor Corridor, all the shoving and bustling momentarily slowed. Was it because you captured me with the archaic Japanese camera you scored at the flea we spontaneously hopped to at Sungei road? What it shows, is that we remain, and have always stayed grounded, to the roots of our past. There is where we began, where our souls belonged, and where nothing, not even the willows will shake our fragile heart apart. I do not proclaim ‘I love you’, for your name is inscribed somewhere in between the lifelines on my right palm. Believe me sweetheart, you’ll cross my mind whenever I hold the pen to fight the battle in my mind, and believe me, I will live on with you on me, in me, forever, till I depart.

Rest in peace, my soulmate.
Nov 2013 · 1.2k
Dream.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
One day I will be selling remedies for memories and songs for souls in my own little curiousity shop, just a turn into a corner of Greece’s small town, the bricks pure, and grander of them all is the clear blue sky that knows not boundaries; the sea filled with jewels shining like aquamarines, and I will be there, naked and sunbaked; a transcient. Only a tattoo of hope remains.



Or I will be strolling down the corridors of Paris, traipsing the Champ-Elysses, flirting with the French Patisser and receive an abundance of chocolates, my personal symbol of happiness, stuffed into my hands, and I saunter like I have the world backin’ me up, a curve on the face like no any other, flying chocolates into the air and hoping that whoever catches them will be in bliss, the pain made temporal.



I’m living in a city where poetry is considered a luxury, a place where words can never fill your stomach and love is but air which starves. I choke on the air I breathe everyday, filled with smoke, vengeance, the monday blues and friday hues, the petty complaints of ordinary civillans and insecurites about what their future will bring. What will my future bring? In school, an instituition which ought to develop but instead chains up, bringing me back to being a premature new born, just lacking the innocence of one. I write still, but of mindless formulas and definition of ‘gini coefficient’ which is futile when the gap between me and them widens every single minute, leaving me helpless and screaming, my voice sinking in the deep abyss. The moments creep. I weep now as on my bed I lie, extremely unprepared for the impending doom I will be facing, the regurgitation of memories which I have none, and a cloud of darkness looms.

Who shall dwell?
Nov 2013 · 678
Regrets.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
I never saw the good in goodbye,













Until it became eternal.













Adieu.
Nov 2013 · 1.1k
Red Riding Hood.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
"Skin white as snow,
  lips red as blood,
  and
  hair black as ebony.”*

And remember, a heart pure as Gold. 










"My Little Snow White…My Little Snow White!"


why was only I, out of many children, called that? skin, white as snow. lips, red as blood. hair, black, as ebony. Snow white, Snow white, in your dark blue eyes, I see daylight, but it’s so violent.






Snow White, I… need your beating heart.

A twist.*






A heart crushed to ashes. *Can Gold rise?
Nov 2013 · 745
Carnal.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
Whiff of chocolate,
Red Wine,Cheese, and Strawberries
You are all  in me.
Nov 2013 · 1.6k
Sexuality.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
Think Pray Love- Do it
God is not homophobic
Then why are you so?
Nov 2013 · 659
To whose heart will you go?
aegeanforest Nov 2013
He tattooed a compass across his chest,
but your initials spilled out skillfully
instead of North and South (N;S);
Proportionate in every aspect,
rounding the circumference of his life in the
Perfect dimension that only he alone
recognises.

He says you lead him, you
refuted.
You say you always
mislead.

But what can you do
against the vulnerable him,
when he says he’s a willing sheep
as long as you are the shepherd
and the Wales is but you both,
that he could graze on the pulps of love
                     even when
the grasses dry.


He says that’s how he’ll survive,
and his ideals live,
*even when romance dies.
Nov 2013 · 779
Newfangleness.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
"You are so loved"                                 
                                “You are so loved”
“You are so loved”


And it’ll go on for minutes, for                                                              ­    
                                                            ­            hours

when I sleep my tiredness away,
when I wake.                     


I love this gentle reminder. So much.

The very first touch of yours that stilled the raging waters inside my heart,
not quite.
In a realm that did not made me long for the last time...
the last time he abandoned me in the rapids of Terengganu




*it translated well.
Nov 2013 · 366
for you, you, and you.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
You stand at the
                           d
                           g
of my raw h     e     art


*Fill my emptiness, please

— The End —