the heart is the most deceitful thing there is.
the brain knows that.
we just find it hard to understand.
  
what we generally perceive as love is nothing
but a mere illussion of what we're missing,
what we want.

the rush of emotions we suddenly experience
is so overwhelming that we can't grasp
its true intention.

we are building false hope in ourselves,
and we feed the thought
and excitement.

when we deeply think about it,
we are just inlove with the thought
of being in love.

it's more of a feel-good trigger
we unleash if we lost that
adrenaline.

it's that fairytale ending we have in our
imaginations that waters the seed
of romance in our hearts.

sad thing is we don't live in a fairytale.
i might insist pessism in your thought,
hey i don't write your love story.

blame it all in the confusion and lies
about love and your fairytale dreams,
your ever-after might not be within reach.

love is an illussion.
a trickery even rocket scientist can't explain.
mind boggling fantasies about prince and princesses.

but there is hope. ( an accomplice)

hope that even if you don't live in a castle nor rule a kingdom
believe that someone will treat you as the princess
far better you imagined yourself.

and when that day comes you might want not stay in neverneverland.
you don't grow old there.
what's the point of i-wanna-grow-old-with-you line?

love is a dangerous and a beautiful thing to enjoy.
its like sinking in a quicksand of bliss.
or swimming in a sea of chocolatey sea of tears.

but remember that in the midst
of everything you
beLIEve
in is a
LIE.

be careful.

Dicontained, uprooted from
origins and disbelongings
stowed stored
in hermetic containers
stacked by soul-less rows
in the dead cold night,
transiting to upended lands.

Inside, a monocular view:
ironed pillars, art-palm,
disinteresting shots framed
of distant falls,
as luggage tumbles off
the conveyor creaking
tired from endless
circumambulations of the
graveyard of emotions, where
day on day, hopes, loves,
dreams, die, unwaved for.
Welcome - to neverneverland.

Crick crack click clap snip snap on the concrete
The city is on the move and to stand would be
The slapstick comedy of stopping a treadmill.
Acceleration animation gravitation from the rotation
Apathetic friction that is devil-may-care like your heart
Dragged down on the gym floor and the sweaty men laugh.
Tick tock nonstop the clock hops and bops away the time
Of the day and eternity seems like a fairy tale
Because this era is neverneverland faith, we are young.
And getting younger, we plan to die naked as we came,
Lounging in retirement, the summer that knows no end.

But sighing the dying are crying relying upon our move
And we move past, this blur of momentum that the city has become,
Because stillness is for the hippies and the natives and we are neither.
Capitalistic colonial conquering captains of industry we charge
Credit or debit because it isn't ours anyways and the bank is moving.
Down the street in the heat can't beat the beat of the sweet treat
That the homeless remember the memory of the taste of mercy.
Like dogs in heat they pant and beg and we shake them off our pantleg
Because it is designer and the label buys manhood cheap and sells it high.

We split hit and quit and never commit because we spit words like blessing
Out when we wash our mouths out every night and every morning
Because it is the only way to get the taste out of your mouth when you wake up.
As if the jacket I wear can't clothe a man from the cold or sell for more
And my closet is lined with the clothes I don't remember to forget about wearing.
It is not hate that congregates or abates the rate the weight is pulling me down,
But fear of the immensity of impossibility colliding with reality inevitably,
Because one man's sacrifice will suffice to pay the price of my vice.

Yessir hearts are racing toward the first heart, we are collaborating.
That the dying need not remain the dead but know life to the fullest.
The poor and the sore need not abhor or war with the rush of the city.
Because saints and saviors are not just bedtime stories as long as my life
Has the power, no the will, no just the faith, all it needs is faith.
The sick have been tricked that their wick runs quick
Like crick crack click clack snip snap on the concrete
These hearts are moving this city on a hill.