Darkness
So true, all their false lights sputter out;
Feeble and annoying

Claws
So long, I can reach the core of their being
With just a scratch

Teeth
So sharp, I can see who they are within
And without, just by smiling at them

Heart
So strong, I can bear the sad loneliness
When they see who I am and run

Walking in the garden,
I stepped onto the grass
Barefoot,
And revelled in the tingles
On the soles of my feet
That made me smile.

The grass was wet.
Absently, I sat myself down
And felt the grass in my hands...
'The grass is wet,' I thought,
'It feels nice, cool and peaceful,
But water doesn't catch fire...'

*Can the fire inside me burn in serenity?
Or will it burn out my peace
And c
          o
           n
          s
         u
         m
           e
               me?

Another day goes by...

I look at my reflection
And I haven't grown,
The same eyes, wrought with boredom--
Makes me wonder what part of me was sold.

I hear the sound of blood flow
As my heart thrums in a simpering rhythm;
It gives me an assurance that I live,
But makes me question whether I'm truly alive?

I feel a slumber has taken hold,
It's got me where it hurts most;
I can't move away from the pain,
And that scares me!

A painful sleep, never waking, never dreaming,
Just suspended in simple stillness...
This dull affliction makes me wonder,
Will I ever remember what it's like to be awake?

Let's write ourselves a poem,
You be the verse, I'll be the rhyme;

Let's find ourselves a feast of words,
And slash them down on white.

Let's sit ourselves in a quiet corner,
So temptation isn't bright;

Let's be ourselves for each other,
And spend our days in the light.

Let's be together for once, forever,
The rest can wait in line;

Let's not change the mellow mood,
And forget the needle and the pine.

Let's lay by ourselves for a little moment,
While I spell our love out on your spine;

Let's share ourselves a life's dream,
And paint it on the starry skies.

Let's pen ourselves our memories,
To remember for all of time...

*I told you we'd write ourselves a poem,
But you ditched me for the dime!

We live in this world
And wake, walk, talk and take of it.
We gamble our survival by living here
And breathe and drink and eat and sleep in its shelter.
We seek ourselves and meet each other;
At other times, we thirst and hunger for a part of another's life.
We lust and crave and take pride in ourselves
While we look around for all that isn't ours.
We grab and we ******,
We demolish and destroy,
And forsake this world that sustains us.
We forgo our debts and shrug responsibility,
By walking away from what we have caused.
We leave nought but destruction in our wake
No matter where we go...

--

We are humans who can think.
We are beings with an intellect.
We are capable of communicating with one another...
And yet,
*We wear a mask we never take off...

Because it's the only way
to find some release...
to write down the words...

Life is simple,
but the human mind,
our heart
and our hormones (usually raging)
make it seem complex
and confusing.

And this society we have built for ourselves?
To help us progress...
It doesn't help either.
It merely adds another variable
to the logarithm called life
we're already breaking our heads on.

Writing poems,
penning down your thoughts
or even just labelling your confusion
by giving them words...
it's all writing,
it all means 'to create something'.
Depending on what one wishes to create,
they write a poem or a passage or an essay or prose,
or even a book.
It's an individual's choice.
It's that person's choice.

The words come.
Even we writers do not know where they come from,
but they do.

And when they do, we write. On paper or tissues or newspapers or any means available to us, like desperate beings, finding an outlet, we write...

People write about a lot of things,
feelings,
things they're attached to,
about people as well,
when the only way they can bear the words to flow is rhythmic,
maybe because if those intense words came out raw,
they'd devour the speaker
or the speaker would eat them up.

It's confusing even to us...why do we write?

Just remember,
if you've ever been a muse in someone's work
(be it a poem or prose or a song
or a photograph or a drawn/painted picture),
know that you've been adored and cherished
and you've touched that person's life
and left an imprint.
One he or she wants to immortalize
in the one way they know how to.

Do not take that lightly.

*Words mean something to us writers
and blank pages make us ache,
and even we don't know why that is...

I don't know why I don't write anymore
Typing these words out is now suffocating
Like I'm not living them anymore
They're a shadow of my feelings
That are expansive and depthless

I don't know why I can't write anymore
The words escape and falter
In scatter plots across my tired mind
My soul aches to bleed, battered by blind numbness
But the bandages I have put on it are so tight

I see why I can't write anymore
I can't let them open my bandages
I don't want my wounds to tear open again
I am terrified of what I will feel
Of all that I will feel
The expansive and depthless abyss
Of sadness I am keeping at bay

Nothing has been the same since I lost her

But how long will this unfeelingness last?

Will I survive feeling whole again?

It's a confusing puzzle,
But still holds true:
You can't live with me;
I can't live without you.

Life is but a journey,
I chose to go through with you;
But now that you won't have me,
It's hard for me to continue.

Fate is a bitter cruel harpy,
With her sisters she conspires
For the death of my Love,
As your Love for me transpires!

Hope is a painful therapy,
It burns while nursing Time's stabs;
But the scars strengthen Experience,
As it assists to keep Reason's tabs.

Love and Reason are antithesis,
That can't co-exist;
But their affinity is such
That to be together they persist.

Perfection in Love is when
There is room for Reason;
But when Reason and Logic court,
Love calls it Treason!

Love is unfair and immature,
And still as pure as a dove;
But there's no use of Reason,
With the death of Love.

This poem is an analogy:
Which in life stands true;
It's no use of me loving you,
If there's no hope for you to love me too.

Can you remember who you were?
Before?
Who you could have been now?
Can you imagine the voices,
The ones in your head,
Going away?

Do you wish the colors dimmed
And faded out like the miserable happiness,
Bleached out of your yesterdays?

Do you cry and mourn
In bursts of silence,
When the voices are back?

I know they change you,
They capture your mind
And throw havoc everywhere!
Driving you through stars
While darkening your sight.

The days can't be closer apart,
Nights can't be brighter.
People can't leave faster,
Cz you're only waiting
To drive them away.

They're only waiting
To drive them away.

**Yes, they're the same voices
In my head too...