**** this*

For the next chump, the next line of idiots after me.

I hope you don't tear your hair out with her.
I hope you don't mind the mess she makes when you think everything is tidy.
I know you will, definitely attempt to change things around for her.
I know you will, definitely sigh in frustration as your efforts all go to waste.
I hope time will be kind to your psyche.
I hope time will be lenient with you.

I daresay this will be your greatest challenge, perhaps conquest or muse yet.
I daresay it's like a hotline you want to make several calls to.
Take it from me. The previous guy.

2 : make progress; develop in a particular manner or direction.


A heart that wanted nothing but to be held with the tightest of vices, yet with the intention of time spinning silk.

Yet, the grey was all it knew.
And when the time came, the heart shattered other hearts, not knowing how it should feel.

Thus, like how the grey began, the grey crawled to a halt, after the domain it lived in grew decrepit, rank.

And it is rain, in the forest.

Obsession, terrible by itself.
What would make you think I would want any of this?

Just recall, I've never liked your shticks.
Recall, who I came to you as.


One thing still bothers me.
One thing still annoys me.

If feeling this way is good,
Like how you said.



Why do I feel so miserable?

Faith is not enough when the heart sings of lovelier times.
The heart must bask in the spray of the shore
To come back, dripping of taste and understanding
Faith would be enough
If faith could be wielded like the sword
Or cradled like a child
But faith must be supplemented by action, by deed.
I have faith in you.

Fleeting, dragging me along like
Undertow, no one else knows, yet
Clearly, it's just wishful thinking.
Kings would be thankful for clarity.

Because it hurts,
Because you can't anymore.

You're done with tears.
I'll have yours instead.


For I can't shed any.

Scent of weak oranges flows through the air

Coupled with bitter lavender

Out of use sour ashtongue as it tumbles


Orange flows through the glass


Posted with the lack of words


*hey, i miss you

Your manner of speech is black,
And your gaze is grey.

One thing's for sure, everything is exactly the same, the way it started, as well as the way it ended.

Hold on tight, to my breakbeat heartbeat.
It's the final chapter for this book.
The book between us.


Bend in the breeze, to the wind of change.
Let the fingers trace runes once again.
Ignite the same feelings, gone but not forgotten.


These feelings, sieved and strung out.
Like an irregular heartbeat.
Barely hanging in there, with chaos ruling it.
Time for change.

In the end, the road to my own hell was paved repeatedly with the best of intentions : and the lack of understanding not everything is a nail to my hammer.*

Bittersweet chocolate runs down the cheek, sweet caramelized sugar around the lip.
A wonderful realisation : not everything was meant to fall into place ; not everything could go my way.


Half-boiled eggs with light soya sauce, dribbling down the spoon, crunching toast with soothing jam.
She was the flame and everyone was a moth, I recognised it for what it was, still conflagrated.