the depths of my longing
is sealed in silence
and a cheerful smile

a smile that feels real
and a rubbery fake
at the same time

and yet...

it is precious,
important

for a lying smile is a lifeline
and the truth is suicide

I envy those who have nothing to hide.

Thrashing, kicking
Struggling to break free.

From a barless prison
That's inside of me.

desire and fear
passion and abomination
intertwined -- such is the chaos
smothering my mind

the throes of terror
and sickly melancholy
torment me...

haunting and creeping
the only reality
in this stillness

I am a goodness without its wings
I am evil without its fangs

To myself
I'm an enigma

Grayish skies of silent mourning
Clouds of regret, ennui, silence
Wandering aimlessly

A trickle, and another...

A raindrop

Then a tear...

The skies mirror
my loneliness.

Life's meaning is a number: 42
For the universe won't care about me and you
It's up to us to seek out what's true
Or, remain in silent despair
Like some people do.

Deep Thought has proclaimed:
"Existence means the number 42"
Absurd, odd, unacceptable
Some might vehemently argue

But Deep Thought was right
And we still have no clue
For the reason why you're here
Is really up to you.

Commonality
The desire for belonging,
The need to run away from isolation
The origins of insensitivity

This is the mentality of the bully

What is normal is confused with
Desirability, goodness
Herein is the soul
Of the tyrant.

A muffled scream
Threatens to break loose
Running away from this fear
Of not being good enough
Insignificance.

A stale and bitter saliva
Dried and cracked lips
And an aching stomach
Yearning for heavenly manna
Or even just the closest
Hamburger

Long, flowing black hair
Dyed strands glistening atop
A delicate scalp
Eyes that bewitch
Adorned with bristly eyelashes
Surgical precision had shaped
A perfectly chiseled nose
Lips that captivate:
Red as wine.

Such is the image
Of a soon-to-be corpse
Happily engaging
In an elaborate fakery.

Glum, chaotic musings
Dark clouds hovering in my mind
Torrential rains
Of pain
Anguish
My composure, weary floodgates
Ready to burst, crumble and fail
I'm lost inside the caverns
Of my soul.

And suddenly, a spark of deliverance!
As my fingers tap the keyboard
Nothing but clicking sounds.

Like God, ever sought
Elusive, enigmatic
A puzzle of a million pieces
Or maybe, just maybe
A figment of imagination
Ah! The sorry plight of a human being
Always in constant need
Of meaning.

Sweaty armpits and rubbery legs
Labored breathing, one more step
My mind aching for a destination
There is none
Nothing but internal babblings
And an afternoon run.

Life passes by
Moment by moment
Each minute a grain of sand
In a ceaseless flow inside
This biological hourglass

Time has this peculiarity:
This irreversible absurdity

That to crave for more time
Becomes one's slow undoing
Sagging skin, unsightly wrinkles
Bones turn brittle, breaking
Muscles ****** out of their strength
Atrophied
Eyes failing, perpetual darkness
And the self succumbs to the lull
Of oblivion
The mind: no longer, extinguished
What's left is a husk of what once was
A human being.

Hope then becomes a beacon, a torch
In the middle of a starless night
A burning, warm sense of certainty
Hope, or that stubborn illusion
That happiness is one's lot in life

But time silently persists
Eroding foundations, narratives
Dismantling falsity
Uprooting grand, elaborate conceits
Blind and merciless
Uncaring towards puny human desires
Hope's demise.

Life: a futile struggle against time.

To what end?

Always in the rush
Always pressured to comply
Always expected to perform well.

This is the problem with humans
They are not immortals
They always lack

Time.

Forlornness that wraps the core of my being
Still, relished by a heart that aches to write
Alone, in subdued pain, but accepting
I feel my body and all its agonies
Never wanting this moment to end
In spite of it all, a gentle smile
I find solace in every breath
And in this tender loneliness.

An ethereal and spiritual atmosphere
A presence that cannot be seen
but felt by a heart full of yearning
Music devoid of rhythm and consonance
That seeps into the deepest crevices
of a mind that longs for the infinite
Such an enchanting melody that permeates
the room. A dreamworld opened up
by nothing but the artful arrangement
of sound.

The Facebook zombie
Distorts its face:
Contorted, convulsing
A spasmodic smile.

Ignoring internal scars
Emotional wretchedness
Faking with gusto
What the good life is.

The Facebook zombie
Hunkers not for brains
But drools for likes
And virtual applause.

Like dazzling neon lights
Its ego shines bright
"I am the best"
"I am number one"
Says the connoisseur
Of filters and fakes!

The Facebook zombie lumbers
Towards the next bite
The next hit
Mindlessly raising its
Bony hands
As the camera sways
Finding the perfect angle.

The tiny red ant scampers
In a forest of greenish mold
Its bristly legs carrying
Biological modules:
A head with pincers
An imperceptible thorax
A swelling abdomen.

It has nothing but a laborious drive
A pheromone-induced servility
For the queen: the lazy, bloated tyrant!
The sole purpose being
The laying of eggs.

The noble red ant
Moves on to scavenge
Blind and dumb
Oblivious.

To the ruthless cycle
Of its existence.

Those bewitching eyes
Glinting like stars
In a world of dreams
Those plump cheeks that invite
The gentlest of kisses
And your lips seem to me
As little fountains
Of perpetual euphoria

You say you lack beauty
And your worth is nil
Oh! How I prayed to the gods
That they take away my eyes
And give them to you.

That you may behold
Such magnificence
That roused in me
This intense longing
For your caresses
Your touch.

Such burning desire
That can only be quenched
By your comforting
Presence.

Eyes drooping as the battle
Against somnolence
Rages on
Like a bloodied
And battered swordsman
I stand and resist
I keep myself awake
Fighting an unceasing lull
From a tireless foe
Ever sly and persistent
Eager to drag me in a world
Of dreams and phantasms.

But as the night goes on
My resolve dissolves
Like melting chocolate
Under a merciless sun
Thus, I slowly drift
In a tranquilizing
Defeat.

As I close my eyes
I am no more.

A ceaseless motion
hither and yonder
like the jumbling of blind ants
in a narrow path
of wet pheromones.

Backbreaking labor
A cruel slaver
lashing his whip
that cracks painfully
drawing blood from the back
of the hapless wretch.

A joke that amuses no one
An insufferable itch
demanding to be scratched
so hard that it bleeds

Then in a moment
snuffed.

Asphyxiated and forgotten.

Is life this glass half full
Or half-empty?
Can we surmise from this riddle
An outlook that faithfully
represents reality?

To this, I say:
The glass and the water in it:
Both of them, matter
This we scientifically intuit
As composed of swirling particles
fleeting seemingly forever
In a dazzling quantum dance
It welcomes randomness,
enigma and chance

Mere objects subject
to rigid physical laws
Simplicity: the primary rule
From which we base
theoretical understanding
or risk becoming the fool.

And from this knowledge
beauty reveals itself
And agony and happiness
Both complicit to this
wonderful strangeness
For such is the magic that flows
from Chaos and Order
A blatant mistake it is
to reject one for the other.

Thus everything comes full circle
Positive appreciation cannot
exist without its negation.

Life is indeed a glass
half-full and half-empty
The world is truly a cruel place
Abounding with beauty.

The shape of a smile emerges
and the heart grows light
There is no need for applause
Nor praises
In this moment
I'm alive.

Such is the power of art
Its ability to set free
The long-suppressed yearnings
Of the grieving heart
In this melodious
Poetry.

Oblate spheroidal
Mass of rock
A being that sprang
From the void, with others
A dull speck in the blackness
Of space.

A lone island of azure skies
Verdant plains and mountains
An atmosphere dominated
By nitrogen
A haven of self-organizing
Critters, bacteria
And its oceans: the primal womb.

So precious, yet so fragile
A mote suspended
In a starry backdrop
Rotating its way towards
Its predestined fate.

Such beauty is our home
A lonely traveler
Lost in the wastelands
Of space and time.

The brightness
of the morning sky
pierces my eyes
birds gladly chirping
in merry exultation
a distant radio blabbers
hunkering for someone's
valuable attention...

The leaves appear to me
as lovely emeralds --
a beautiful, greenish hue
the trees sway monotonously
as if compelled
in a steady dance
absentee music:
silence.

I am aware.

I am a poet
And the ether is my pen
A digitized mind.