Embalmed skin -
seemingly made anew,
yet pocked with sores…
from a life past.

The then waylaid heart
needed only whisper…

And long was the walk
through the cursed labyrinth
of sharp worldly things.

When all else
has been
flogged by time,
beaten by uncertainty
and consumed
by the earth...

All that’s left...

Is the salt
disowned by
indulgent cascades.

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.

.

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.

Hello there
familiar stranger...

Between the waking hours
and persistent unsleep,

you’re still
as much as the chaos
in my head then
as you are now.

Feels so heavy this beating stone in my chest
Like an anvil strung up by a thin fraying thread
In my heart, happiness feels like a regular guest
It comes for a while, but always leaves me with dread.

When it leaves, there is void ever so cloying
This void it seems to be adamant on being empty
I'd mope and seem unexcited about anything
I fail to see life and all of it's beauty.

Much dreaded, this feeling of overwhelming miss
Oh I simply hate it when I feel this way
Maybe all I want is if only I had her to kiss
Wishing I'd have more of her time in a day.

I can't think like this, I should not be selfish
I must learn to accept she has her own worth living
Deep down inside, I'm fighting my own skirmish
I'd say it's alright but it seems untrue, to myself I'm lying.

I guess this is the relationship between love and pain
One can't just be without first inviting the other
My innermost and most intimate I so have lain
What I want most, isn't what I'm allowed right now, right here.

I often had wished I was in another time
I always have hoped I'm in a different place
A time where our hearts were speaking in rhyme
A place where we'd forever be face to face.

It's just so hard to be a part of a cruel trick
Seems unjust to be played like little game pieces
The locks to happiness I'd forever try to pick
For happiness is having you loving and embracing me endless.

We hadn’t realised…

That we spoke of love
that was enshrouded
by child-like naïveté.

We had then,
fire in our hearts,
sparks in our eyes
and clouds in our heads

but

marbles in our mouths.

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

.

When the periphery is muted,
one walks the precipice -
long and narrow.

Open minds are fenced in;
And are inadvertently confined
to hushed tones
and feeble babbles.

Life then ceases to be a journey...

But rather,
                 a recurring commute.

Capture the night
in one deep breath.

Allow the eyes to map
what swells in the heart.

Capture life...
Be wary not of thorns that *****.

Allow the love to bridge the gap,
even when apart.

I sit here...
Undiagnosed.

Myriad symptoms
that tell a thousand stories.
Plethora of aches
that divulged
where things may have veered off course.

Those around offered what they could.
I face open palms daily
and I recognise them to be
gestures of good will and empathy.

I accept with only appreciation and gratitude.

But the wisest could only
provide uncertainty at best.

This is me.
And I'm undiagnosed.

As I laid my head,
anticipating the arrival
of a long day’s sleep...

I heard the beating of my heart -
faint but clear - marking the quiet
that loomed before rest.

I traced each beat...
Counted them, knowing that
soon would come
and I’d be in slumber deep.

I remembered another
whose beats matched those of mine -
I finally let go, and got lost
in my cosy nighttime nest.

All too familiar...
I have been here not too long ago.

I had dug my heels deep...
I had tasted the moist that hung stale.
Dreaded every next step,
knowing then as I know now...
That again I would fail.

This road well travelled...
Will draw much more,
if not the same.
But I own this endless stretch,
I'll embrace it with discomfort...
For here is the grave that bears my name.

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.

Like blood slowly
ballooning into a tiny orb
from a pin *****.

It simply swelled
and bulged…

As it clung precariously
upon the tip of my nib.

A slight tremble,
almost a hesitation -
seemingly afraid to take
the leap of faith.
Afraid to take the plunge,
only to wilfully break
the expanse of blank parchment.
Afraid to taint the whiteness
with the ruthlessness
of indelible black.

.
If our family was a tree,
you must be the roots.

Forever planted,
forever supporting,
forever nurturing.

Just so that all of us,
may bask in the amber
of the sun...
And bathe in the silver
of the moon.

.

This day is just a day.

A day that shines bright
outside my window.

I could see the unburdened footfalls
of passersby -
with their voiceless chattters,
and spring-loaded gait.

I could feel the warm breeze,
greeting my face as I stood
by the window, enjoying
its play round my hair and ears.

I could smell and taste
the crisp air - laden with chances
and opportunities.
Available, accessible and within reach.
Only if one so desires
to grab at them.

This is just a day.
One amongst many
that I had failed
to be a part of.

What’s this glaze
over my eyes…

A heavy mist
with fingers…
that lingers.
A cataract that
dives and claws
into the black
of irises.

A film,
a veil,
a canvas botched
and vandalised
with arguing paints.
And indelible black
that sings of sadness,
highlights the aches
of dejection
and screams
betrayal.

.
Quench the thirst
that’s been long endured.

A dryness that spanned
too many moons.

Forget not the song
of the morning bird.

Now rests from its flight,
and it sings and croons.

.

.
Morn’s lingering mist...
Silently skimming
off the water’s edge.

          Deft tendrils reach out,
          to playfully
          taunt and tease...

Digging and uncovering...
Like a slow and worn...
But trusty dredge.

          Unearthing unwelcomed
          memories of (c)old,
          like an abrupt winter’s breeze.


.

Been away awhile...

Contemplating stars.
Counting moons and suns.
Painting skies.
Deciphering clouds.
Writing in sands.










And missing you.

I have depression.

I suspect I’ve had it for a long time.
It’s only recently I accepted it.

Having this,
is like have an insufferable house guest that just wouldn’t leave.
He was never invited.
I don’t even know why he’s even here.

He’s very persuasive.
He tells me things and shows me what I perceive to be my true value.
I know he likes it here and I’ve had him for so long that I have found strange comfort having him around.

At times, he may slip away without
me even knowing.
But at times, he’d show up.
He’d make a grand entrance.
He’d fuss.

But I’d still wouldn’t realise.

These days,
people know I’m not alone.
People know of him.
People read and watch videos of him.
I applaud them for trying to understand him.
And our relationship.

But it saddens me and it fuels him when the aids don’t do him any justice.
They just allow people to think they know better.
They think they’ve been educated and can start to administer help.
They assume that you’re not heeding their advice.
They think you don’t even try.

But again I applaud them...
For trying so very hard.

This is me and I have a house guest that I’m sincerely trying to manage.



I have depression.

Are twinkling freckles
pocked up above?

This ceiling of mine
all draped in black.

Looming clouds obscure
as they push and shove.

Just a glimpse...
As I find my way back.

.
     Captured breaths
within the
       moments in time.

   Broken snapshots
              frozen almost...
  Solid yet fragile
        and so brittle.

         Fractured and frail
      but in many ways,

              perfect.

.

If I was ever presented
with the impossible chance

To accurately chronicle
every subtle nuance

Measured against
the number of elapsing days

No ink would be enough
No hand could keep the pace