Hmm, let me see… Who should I be today?
The person other people think I am
or maybe someone they would like to see.
I could attempt to stand out in a crowd,
easy though it would be to just blend in.
What if I flip a coin to choose between
the good, bad, dark, strong, and weak parts of me.
Of course, I could always just be myself
although, most days, I don’t know who that is.

Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder
if I’m a manifestation
of someone’s imagination.
Or dreamt by one in deep slumber
Trapped by a spell they are under.

Often I feel invisible;
There are few who really see
who I am when they look at me.
Though far from being miserable,
I find my world more mystical.

It only takes a favorite song
Come up on the jukebox
To fish her out of her despair
They call her Lola, Lola Fawkes.

She laughs at nonsensical jokes,
Likes clouds and sunny glades.
She licks the ice cream tub clean
And paints her toes in two shades.

She speaks of butterflies and shadows;
Says she sees them all the time.
The butterflies tinge her dreams,
The shadows add a smell of grime.

She lives and dies with every moment -
Does it all over again each day.
In her heart she truly believes
That salvation is always a blink away.

Often I look back
and try to pinpoint the day,
the moment, I became
the type of person
who, when life is perfect,
waits with bated breath,
for the other shoe to drop.

Always, I hope
that bad times are not here to stay,
only to be disappointed
while bad slides to worse
with each passing day.

When did I become the fool
who believes that just because
night follows day,
and dawn lifts the shadows,
that when the going is good
something terrible is around the corner?

Has it ever been so
that life has served me
joy and grief in equal measure?

But still I wait
for the situation to change…
Unable to enjoy the good,
unfit to deal with the pain.
Stuck jumping through the hoops
of my hyperactive brain.

The fire inside her,
Once but a tiny spark -
Brought the promise of hope
And spread smiles all around.

The fire inside her
Grew into a playful flame -
Dancing and leaping up
To go meet the golden sun.

The fire inside her
Became a roaring blaze -
Fiery passion burning in her heart,
Guiding her through unfamiliar ways.

The fire inside her
Then mellowed to a gentle glow -
Warm, tender, protecting her
From the darkness so hollow.

The fire inside her
Has now begun to flicker -
Making her old hands quiver
But willing her to keep going.

The fire inside her
Will burn out soon enough;
Become ashes and dust
And glory days of the past.

Fractured mind;
tattered soul;
a body in ruin —
that’s me.

Morbid thoughts;
frozen heart;
bloated fingers —
that’s me.

Despair and hope.
Love and hate.
Cruel tenderness —
that’s me.

A smoking gun,
a flawed someone
perfectly imperfect —
that’s what I want.

Away from all their expectations,
far from the madness that ensues,
a moment of solitude.
Harper Lee and coffee.
Afterwards, a stroll
with some of my
favourite
tunes -
Bliss.

One of these days, happiness shall be mine.
The clouds will disperse, sunshine will come to stay.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Sometimes it is easy, it is hard sometimes.
If ever I start doubting myself, I simply say,
“One of these days, happiness shall be mine.”

Every once in a while, I can’t help but resign
myself to fate. Yet, I know I will be better the next day.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Every blow, every bruise I receive  is just a sign
that my struggle is worth it. I will find my way.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine

There is no way to decrypt destiny’s design;
To keep from drowning, to keep the fear at bay
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

What keeps me going is the belief that I will be fine.
When everything’s said and done, I will be okay.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine,
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Today,
I did nothing of much importance.
Just listened to some of my favourite tunes,
and ate a tasty lunch.
Thought of a few late retorts
that would have been useful
in an argument I had weeks ago.
Watched the pattern on the floor
made by the fractured sunlight
through the cracks in my window.
Hugged my little sister for a long time
then we talked about useless stuff
and laughed a lot.
Stubbed my toe against the furniture,
used some colourful language.
Had some melty ice cream.
Freaked out a little bit
about my life
and it’s lack of direction.
Shrugged it off
and had another scoop.
Today,
I didn’t get any work done.
Today was a filler day
But today I had some fun.

I sang a song that made them weep.
I sang a song that made them gasp.
I sang a song about lost love
although I had neither loved
nor suffered a great loss.

They fell in love with the song,
and showered me with praises.
I bristled at every kind word,
I loathed the adulation.
I couldn’t decide whom I hated more –
these people who couldn’t spot my insincerity
or myself for starting the sham.

Icy ball of fire,
vitriol soaked thoughts.
Raw from the undeserved love,
I sang another song –
this time of the putrid hatred
coursing through my veins.

My audience increased double-fold.
They applauded me for “being brave”
and “baring my pain”.
I couldn’t understand
how all my hostility
inspired such whole-hearted acceptance.

While I sat brooding,
one more song came to me.
A tender tune,
of warn repose.
And when I sang it,
I didn’t need to think
whether they would love it or hate it
because this time,
I sang the song for me
and I loved it.

There was once a little boy, who liked a little girl

and one fine day, by the beach, he found a little pearl.

Thinking of his sweetheart, he picked it up & took it home

and he polished it all day, throughout the night until it shone.



The very next day he put it in a velvet box;

went out whistling, thinking of her golden locks.

He kept thinking of how her eyes would gleam;

how the pretty pearl would make her beam.



He found her swinging on a mighty big swing,

How his heart fluttered when he heard her sing.

The wind catching her hair and tossing it all about;

he thought she was an angel without a doubt.



He clutched the velvet box and took a step forward

then stopped because suddenly he felt like a coward.

What if she spurned his advances & didn’t accept his gift?

Or worse, she thought him funny and had a laughing fit?



His mind in turmoil, his little heart pounding away,

He thought about fleeing 'coz he didn’t know what to say.

Glued to the spot, his prospects sure seemed grim

when suddenly, she turned and looked straight at him.



With no apparent escape he smiled at her tentatively

and like a miracle, she grinned back, the sight so lovely.

Encouraged, he walked up to her and held up his gift;

She reached for it shyly and his spirits started to lift.



As she slowly opened it with a smile upon her lips,

he watched her, fascinated, his heart doing the flips.

When she beheld the shiny pearl, her eyes opened wide;

her obvious pleasure in turn, had him feel overjoyed.



She looked up, her brown eyes warm and sparkling,

cocked her pretty head to the side and kept on looking.

Then after what seemed like ages she finally said,

“It’s really beautiful. Thanks, you are very sweet, Ted.”



Amazed that she knew his name, he said happily,

“It is not more beautiful than you dear Emily!”

She smiled, then laughed good-naturedly at this,

then came closer and gave him a sweet kiss.



His happy heart about to burst, he held her hand;

his love conquest a success, he felt so grand.

He had found his playmate, his first love ever,

his friend, his sweetheart, his life’s pearl forever.

I knew I had fallen out of love.
Yet I stayed;
I didn't want to be alone.

I am sorry it took me so long to realize
that if I was lonely when I was with you
then you must have felt isolated too.

And maybe I don't love you
like I used to
but I still love you enough
to spare you the desolation
of being alone in my company.

It is remarkably difficult to find
that moment in the middle of a day
when nothing is on your mind,
all the chaos just fades away,
and somehow you know that you will be okay.

I wish you would come
to see me. Only, I am
glad that you haven’t.
I have some healing to do.
I have some blooming to do.

Two lovers lost from each other
fell into deep despair;
parted after a brief embrace
after morning prayer.

They could not come together, yet  
were never far away.
Sundry errands kept them busy
with duties of the day.

Twice, they stole away to unite,
their compulsion was such.
Their agitated longing grew
with every glancing touch.

Evening brought with it a reprieve
from their despondent plight.
They rested peacefully at last,
entwined all through the night.

This morning,
I fell from a dream
so bittersweet
that for a moment
I wanted to shut my eyes
and ***** my way back
to that make-believe paradise.

In there,
I had everything
I had once coveted
and some things
I never dared to desire.
Almost enough
to make me happy.

Dazed and delirious,
I still couldn’t help but notice -
Laughter there sounded hollow,
the gratification was never deep.
Splendid as things were,
they would last only while I was still asleep.

What good is a paradise
that can disappear in the blink of an eye?
The truth, though ordinary, always
outshines the most extraordinary lie.

Fact or fiction, there was a choice to be made;
Open my eyes and wake up or choose to be afraid.
It was easy to give up that land of whimsical fantasy,
To plunge back into the depths of  my sordid reality.

Today will be different,
the proverbial U-turn.
Today the people you love
will love you back.
Today you will know serendipity.
All ladders, no snakes;
No dips, only crests.
The dreams you nursed
will finally come true.
Today your smile will be real,
not just a façade.

Yes, today will be different.
And if it isn’t,
Tomorrow will be.
Definitely…
Maybe.

The hazy world sharpened
when myopic Maddie
got a new pair of glasses
sitting pretty on her pert nose.

Now she could discern
each leaf in a foliage,
and tell people apart
from a  respectable distance.

She peered at every face,
thrilled that now she could
describe the smallest details
in case she were ever called in
to sit for a police sketch.

Smug glee turned to horror
when her wondering gaze
met quizzical stares
and she recalled
that her glasses
were transparent.

What
next?
Always
the question
that keeps me awake
at night; troubled during the day.
Consumed by this exhausting, insatiable hunger
to decipher the mysteries of a nebulous future, I find it mighty hard
to take a deep breath, look around, notice all the colors and revel in the beauty of how far I have come from the shadows of my past.

Certain sounds used to bother me.

Human noises like people breathing drove me crazy – it didn’t have to be a wheeze, a rasp or a rattle. It remained a battle to ignore the everyday sound of normal breathing, indecipherable, barely a decibel.

Another peeve, of course, was people eating, the cacophony of masticating – I flinched as I heard them chomp, crunch, chew, and munch. I recoiled in distaste as they audibly swallowed their lunch.

I didn’t understand why I found the innocent sound of a faucet dripping so irritating. I felt like a monster because I couldn’t control the flash of anger when I heard someone drumming their fingers, tapping their feet.

One word saved me from the lunacy of self-loathing – misophonia – a name for my malady.

I don’t know what it is about labels that turns your torments into traits. Labels are the leash you use to control your troubles. Ever since I discovered I am misophonic, mundane sounds, while still annoying, no longer overwhelm me.

Wake up in the morning, I listen to the news -
People keep fighting; they have conflicting views.
No need to fret, it’s just the world falling apart.
A brand new day though we're off to a shaky start.

The clock is ticking; there are things to be done.
No time to spare, there are battles to be won,
Dreams to be chased, still a life to be made,
Lots to prove, no room for distractions in my head.

"Try hard enough, bleed out your heart 'n' soul,"
That’s what they say, the ones who know it all,
"Then maybe, maybe, you'll get what you want."
I try to believe it's that simple but no, I can’t.

Philosophy and reality are too contradictory;
Does it count as a win if it is a Pyrrhic victory*?
Traded friends for wolves in sheep's skin, I did.
Beliefs, principles, I've let them all go bit by bit.

Can't overthink, need no distractions in my head;
There are dreams to be chased, a future to be made.
Can't lament the life not lived, the road not taken,
Those sunsets I missed and my love forsaken.

i only wanted to be quiet for a bit
   my words had become empty of meaning
  by embracing silence i thought i could
   try to get in touch with what i was feeling

  why the emptiness grew deeper roots
   i never really understood the reason
  my heart fell still, my blood ran cold
   i felt more lost with each passing season

It was a lonely night
and the moon was bored.
So he looked down
and saw two lovers
out for a night time stroll.

Ever the romantic, he grew ecstatic
because tonight he would make sure
they would fall in love a little more
by the time the night was over.

He bent his sickle-head and started to collect
his starry friends so he could rearrange them
in a more alluring manner.
In his haste to showcase his talent however,
he failed to notice the disappointed couple
turn their backs on the empty sky.

When he realized he had lost his audience,
the moon was left to contemplate in silence
the folly of the stargazers’ impatience.

If only they had waited,
he thought resentfully
as he scattered the stars
into the night absent-mindedly.

Ideas once in
permeate your very being.
They won’t let you sleep;
will rob you of any peace.
Steadily they grow
like an intangible force.
They won’t let you be
unless you take action and
turn them to reality.

I know
I’m in love
when once again
the colors start to sing
for me.

Feed me a story –
I feel hollow
listening to the wind
work itself to a storm.

While we wait for the rain,
spin me one of your tales;
something wholesome,
with sweetness that will linger.

Soothing clichés
to slake my restive mind.
Although your voice is solace enough.

I have so much to say to you
but I haven’t yet 
mastered the skill
to undress my convoluted thoughts
to their bare essence.

So tonight,
under the swollen sky,
talk to me
about anything,
and everything –
keep me company.

Silky vanilla custard
(fluffier than clouds)
sweetened ever so slightly,
topped with wafer-thin
layer of hot, crisp
caramel.
Crack!

Blow out bubbles of hilarity,
Sing me sad somber songs,
Distract me enough to fool
My wayward heart that longs.

My coward heart that longs
To escape all my wrongs…

Take my hand and lead me
Astray. Away. Far away,
From this edge of self-destruction
Or the darkness will take me one day.

The darkness will get to me one day,
If not like this, then some other way…

I've been stuck here so long,
Beginning to like this sinister night;
You are the only one I’ll follow
Anywhere, even into the light.

Anywhere we go, that’s okay.
Just hold my hand and take me away.

I love to watch the rain
Rain with a flash of lightning
Lightning with a dash of thunder
Thunder makes me wonder
Wonder at the wayward wind
The wayward wind sets the rhythm
The rhythm sways the world
The world is in chaos
Chaos is peaceful
Peaceful is the moment
The moment when I am at home
At home watching the rain.

Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up.
This is just a dream, it’s not real…
Keep your head down, don't dare look up.
It won’t see you if you keep still.

Swallow your dread, push down the fear.
Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up!
Clench your fists, suppress the shiver;
one wrong move and the game is up.

Don't scream when the monster eye up
above you sets the sky ablaze.
Open your eyes. Wake up, wake up!
It is shifting its evil gaze.

(Gasp) You have been spotted. Oh, no!
Legs stuck like a fly in syrup,
you can't flee; there’s nowhere to go.
Open your eyes, WAKE UP! WAKE UP!

I love you;
I love you deeply, madly.
I love you violently,
I love you respectfully.
I love your nose, your hair,
I love every square inch of air
That touches you.
I love you in every way possible
And I love you in impossible ways.
I love you darkly,
Calmly, cruelly, selfishly;
I love the stormy passion you inspire;
Sweet stark desire,
I love you unbearably, heartbreakingly,
I love you tenderly,
In sadness and in joy
I love you now and forever.
I love you
Even if I’ll never have you.
And if truth be told
Because I love you so,
Now I love my black heart too.

I walk amid
the silence of broken hearts
and ghosts of the lives never lived.
Oblivious to
the echoes of dashed dreams
and the pall of dampened spirits.

I have received good news
and in this moment,
I am invincible.
Enclosed in a happy bubble,
I let the contentment wash over me.
Later I can return to my troubles
and be part of the crowd again.

How much time do you intend to spend
holding on to your naive notions of everlasting happiness?
How much love will you turn away
before you are brave enough to risk it all again?

You took a chance once.
It worked for a while
and then it didn’t.
The hours of waiting alone,
listening for footsteps at the door,
footsteps that never came,
they still haunt you.

So you cling to those memories of pain
that you let define the rest of your life.
You wear a cloak of cynicism
over your shrivelled heart.
Protected.
Safe.
Dead.

Softly, the music makes me weep, and I
sink into the storm. You are breathtaking.
My life before you was a dream, a lie.
I am awake now, love, trembling, shaking.

You have ripped my feeble façade away
and doused me in ultraviolet bliss.
You, you are the sky. I am a blue jay
forever reaching, begging for a kiss.

I smolder under your luminous gaze;
I grow heavy, molten under your touch.
Slowly, I open, close, my blood ablaze,
Undulating in your leisurely clutch.

I rise, yield, my heart beating like a drum.
I float, complete, my breath a steady thrum.

Does this ever happen to you?
You get into a messy, ugly fight,
but you lose steam about half way through
when you realize you’re the one who’s wrong.
Now, you want to stop arguing; you really do.
But for some idiotic ineffable reason
your mouth won’t do what your brain tells it to.
So you keep spouting nonsense with all your might
and continue to quarrel without a clue.

Sometimes I wish
we lived in a different century,
a different era,
so when you had to go away
I could write you letters.

Letters,
a whole stack,
with penmanship so quaint
and words so fancy,
you would not be able to stop
marvelling at their beauty.
(I imagine)
You would spend hours on end
unravelling the secret longing
behind every blithe sentence,
every playful word.

And while absent-mindedly stroking
the dried ink on the parchment
as if it were my skin,
you would miss me so infinitely much
that without wasting another second,
you would hurry back home
to me.