Nights get heavy.
When every thought becomes a curse.
Sleep is waylaid.
When every subtle nuance you begin to nurse.

Hours grow long.
Rest becomes a dream.
Seconds start to undo...
Every stitch in every seam.

Shadows come to play,
as their dance warps your grasp.
Demons come to say...
That you’re welcomed in their sinister clasp.

There's a streak of sadness
that lines the backdrop of my facade.

There is much discontent
that lurks sinisterly beneath.

Gone is the confidence
that these legs might see me
through the ribbon at the end.

Instead I’m all strung up,
all hung up
and all choked up
with misplaced guilt and grief.

Falling...

That’s the easy part.
It’s beyond your control really.
Like a mat being pulled from under you.
Or tripping over something as obscure as a centimetre rise on the pavement.

And as you fall, you can’t deny the excitement and exhilaration as your heart quickens.
Adrenalin courses through your system in a feeble attempt to heighten your reflexes and realign your senses...

Just so you could perhaps stop yourself from getting hurt.

But you also know that you can’t fight the laws of physics and the fact that you’re not a cat.
So you can’t help but submit fully to that moment of defeat.

Now you’ve slammed into the ground.
Tasted dirt...
And rubbed faces, knees and elbows with the harshness of the earth.

If you do get up,
would you be ever so careless again?




I’d watch where I was going if I were you.

.

Throw him scraps from the table.
Feed him tiny morsels off the lean.
Offer him last dregs from the barrel.

He’ll take anything you’d part with...
For his eyes are blindfolded,
and his mouth sewn shut.

He sees yet he doesn’t know.
He fights but he does not say.

He can only piece together so much
from mere dribs and drabs.

So toss this crow some loose change...
Clothe this jackal in complete rags,
And hand this vulture his just desserts.

He’ll swallow whatever you’re willing give him...



Because he can no longer bear
being left in the dark.

The boy no longer goes by that name
He was told that it only cycles the same

That boy you once knew is no longer
The battles he fought only saw him falter

Most would say to persevere like anyone should
But he ate into himself like you knew he would

Weak is his spirit like the sun rays of a new day’s dawn
A mere thread holds feeble before he is long gone

I was looking forward
to today.

Because yesterday
had promised that
today was going
to be better...

And easier.




Yesterday is a ******* liar.

.

I have been, I am and I will be documenting the complexities that run rampant within.

It’d be easier if my mind and heart spoke
the same language. Most times they’re in conflict.

So I’ll cope in the best way I know how.
I’ll keep posting...

Because no amount of sentences...
Can succinctly form the verses that fully capture what I see and think.

No amount of metaphors...
Can successfully mask and satisfy what I truly feel.

No amount of poems...
Can accurately draft the blueprint of what and why I am.

Do forgive me for I have fallen far and deep. And for the umpteenth time, I am looking for that window or door so that I could see and taste purpose again.

So please bear with me...
There will be more to come as I indulge in my quest for equilibrium.



Yours in ink,

ryn

.

Mind’s clogged up.

And the paper thirsts
for verse and rhyme.

Nib’s asleep
and the ink’s blotchy...

I am bloated
with haphazard thoughts,
but I’m purging...

a few words at a time.

.
A moment astray...

Like the bite off the fruit
you weren’t suppose to take.
But tasted so good.

A moment of folly...

One that you’re disgusted with,
yet so proud you took that step
out of the circle.

A moment of recklessness...

That took you on a trip so stellar
that it seemed to last an eternity.
You make the mistake of blinking...
then all is lost.

A moment of reflection...

A string that threads through all
those moments...
And bound unto you.
Keeping you from falling apart.
Keeping you together and whole,
so that more moments

could be made.

.

Sticks and stones...

Thoughts are just
sticks and stones.

But words...
They break bones.

I hope you understand
when my lips seal shut
and my touch,
empty and cold.

I hope you understand
when my words are hardly
voiced and my silence
grow thick and bold.

I hope you understand
when I appear disconcerted
and this skin just rubs me irate.

I hope you understand
that I am in battle
and the demons
are at the gate.

You don't see my eyes...
They look away whilst my cheeks
with a band worn thin,
hold up this mask.

With effortless ease,
I maintain this smile
plastered upon the sheen
of cheap mouldable plastic.

Fooling others
with a face acceptable by default,
when my neck and collar
stain wet.

Protected and hidden
are my innermost thoughts
and emotions - a morbid
sense of oneness and freedom.

I, therefore, cannot shed
such an accoutrement.
This mask - a fort I will hold and
a bastion, I will not compromise.

Because behind it I feel safe, hidden
and unjudged.

.
I dream of the night

That I'd sprout new wings

I'd then take to the sky

In search of new things


I'd flap them hard

I'd crest over the moon

I'd map out the stars

I'd claim the boon


But the wings, feathers they shed

More till first sun's beam

I'd falter back into this shell

Till it's time for a new night's dream

.

Hours lost...
But I feel like I've gained

I felt nothing...
No recollection of the world.
No worries.
No thoughts.
No questions.
No demons.

Felt like I was dead but...
I got a morbid sense of peace,
and reassurance.
I felt bliss.

Unshackled, untethered and unbound
in those hours,
I felt one with the disconnection
from my life.

Strange and worrisome...
But I long to be caught in those
lost hours again.

Clutch tight the tail of the sun.
Shed your tethers
and take that ride into the next.

Redeem the possibility
of limitless tomorrows.
Because today was meant to happen
and yesterdays were never meant
to weigh you down.

Let us hunker down...

Let's submit to each other's embrace,
and may our arms form
our very own private sanctuary.

Let us be shielded
from the debris and shrapnel
of malicious intent.

Let our fingers be free
to wipe the dirt and tears
from each other's eyes.

Let us be afraid together,
for in this cocoon,
there may yet be some mettle.

Let us still be sheltered...
For the storm is not yet over.

These words must go out.
I can't keep them in.

There was never the right time.
There were never favourable conditions.

But tonight...
The words have formed,
the heart willing,
and opportunity ripe.

Let fall the contents so carelessly...
So they may be caught by magnanimous ears.

But so many variables need to align
in sync.
So many delicate parts to click nicely in place.

Tonight was a chance grossly misread.
I conveniently indulged in signs that had me misled.

So again I swallow...
For tonight no ears are ready.

A leaf that falls from its perch
meets its death as it crumbles to dust
and is consumed by the earth.

It embodies the soil and is then
consumed again...
This time by its brethren.

A mind that falls from its perch,
its pedestal, meets its doom...
In a slow, agonising descent
that does not yield any end.

It falls endless...
crashes through layers of truth,
caught in webs of the untruthful.
Stretches apart and collapses into
itself until death comes to claim,
disguised as madness.