Before, I was a young child
Standing innocently beside
a rusty green gate
that separated my anxieties
from the harsh land
and rough air


I breathe in, slowly,
as if to memorize
the patterns my body makes
Expanding then imploding
A perfect metaphor
for how a mind makes its
own maze and how everyone
of us wants to escape


Stalemate
Continually playing chess
against my own self-consciousness
Nay, my very own Tyler Durden
Sometimes I lose track of time
And all of a sudden things
whisper back to me
Inaudible, I shrug as I lay
stationary in my bed
Looking straight up at the ceiling
Green, white, I do not know


I remember things
Remembering is peculiar
Moments seem like dreams now
I cling to it
And I feel tired
What is my connection then?
To that young child
A picture on the wall
and the face of a man,
grown and ragged due to the
rigors of modern times


Everybody wished they can go back
At least once
I know, I can't speak for everybody
But, truly, deep inside me
A longing for the past
that seems so uncharacteristic of life
Colors, mentioned only in name
Faces, blurry and distorted
Places, forcing us to smile at
happy memories or frown upon them
Yet, I can never connect again


Someone said to me that the potential of
humans are equivalent to
an explosion of a million hydrogen bombs
One for every molecule in our body
How I wish I could explode
Not like a hydrogen bomb
Dynamite will do