In between days of whirling worries and shouting words.
In between dull headaches reminding me of my responsibilities, and hacking laughter devoid of heart.
I'm stuck, in between loving and hating the people I've so gently cared for.
In between understanding myself and God.
In between trivial desires and long, lifeless sleep.
I'm stuck and I hate what I'm slowly becoming: apathetic, dismissive, evasive,
I want to heal, but it requires me to get unstuck
To get unstuck would mean to accept failure, to accept flaws, to accept their dumb mistakes
To accept that I am completely and utterly terrified of making a decision.
A decision to move on.
A decision that will eventu...
I didn't want to accept it.
The fact that I lost, that fact that something so despicable as you could defeat me.
But I guess I was being arrogant.
I guess I was too proud of my faith.
I guess I considered myself a class apart, someone special and pure.
I know how hard I've been on myself and it's given me nothing but pain.
What was the point of putting myself under so much stress?
To prove that I was strong? That I was resilient?
But I still broke down, I still lost my way.
I have been too unjust to my own soul, too cruel, and I'm ashamed.
I'm sorry, me.
I wish I can now accept my wounds and heal them.
Stay still as I try to disinfect my mind and sing along our magic mantra:
Dear soul sister,
I never thought the time to part ways would come so soon and sweep our memories away, but the truth of the matter is, that we've grown apart from each other over the past few years.
Undeterred, however, we would always clinch in the use of the word 'soul' when speaking about one another, trying to trick our heart into thinking that we were still as inseparable.
But the time has come to do justice to what was once, a beautiful and pure relationship, now a power struggle and a clash of different and radically opposing ideologies.
A place unfit for the both of us.
Of course, you were the most sensitive between the two of us, so accepting such a possibility woul...
You might not know this, since it's so cold where you live, but summer has begun.
The garden of life is in full bloom and fat flies along with a myriad of scary insects are already self-righteously zooming past my ear. Butterflies are hovering around and the roses are swaying gracefully with the slight breeze.
It's peaceful and fragrant. And very warm.
I've infused the rays of the sun with my ink in the hope that it might melt the dampness within you.
I don't know if this letter can reach you. I heard from Hands that you whisper of the echoes of their footsteps and their words, but you cannot understand what they're saying.
I can only assume you had an argument with Mind. He...
Words that were highly
Bifurcated to be
Mighty, and tightly
Devised to be
The demise of entirety
Of you and I,
We are now at an impasse
You stare at the pieces of the glass case I finally broke away from
But I know you're in denial
And you are trying to let me go.
You're blind to the scars you lovingly carved on my face
Your eyes are blurred by the tears of self-righteousness
You call my faith my downfall,
Yet you worship your own drowning ego.
You cannot see what I am pointing towards
And you consider my words to be archaic and traditional
I can see the dagger turning in your flesh
I can see it poisoning you, I can see it ruining you.
Now I shall wait and stay
Not beside you, but far away
Your steps shall walk arrogantly toward the realization of your thoughts,
But by that time the dagger will ha...
Live your days
Never a breath
Of the misery
This choice begets.
You look once,
Battle life's lies
In your split mind.
Doesn't matter till late
Actions quietly made.
Soul is split, unfazed and dead
Yet he speaks of the living men
Matter quiet and abased inbred
Level of intelligence, a step ahead
Use your thoughts to divide the herd
Can't shut the noise of the damned, uncured
Devastate the rope of the United
Set fire to the case of enlightenment
Damn maze you made and spread
It's chock full of the screaming dead
Them unintentionals till Judgement you led
Won't know what'll hit you there cadet
Don't stick to the plan of snide
I didn't write about you to be conflicted.
I didn't write about you to be mocked.
I didn't write about you to be chained.
Do you see now? Or have you always known? The kind of muck that people dip their tongues in while considering it to be reason.
I was never a hater of their opinions, yet they've always tried to find thorny paths that would lead towards me.
I'm singing the tunes of the mystic and trying to wipe clean the muck through my conviction, yet I strangely feel empty and used.
I wonder what you're up there saying, and I wonder if you're raising an eyebrow at my shivering heart.
Because I wrote about you to be liberated,
But everywhere I go, your words have caged me, so I'm not...
Today I drank
From the cup of poison
That you had steadily spat
In all these years of my life.
Today I sat, cross-legged,
With my turban in front of your lap
That you slowly unfolded
While snickering at my foolish sincerity.
Today I let
Your foot oppress my being
As you mumbled oft-repeated words
Of ignorance and arrogance.
Today I gave myself away
To you, in your love
In your greed and haste,
Sucked it dry and complained
Of the poison that gushed through.
I sat at the door of my heart
In expectations of awaited mortal visitors.
Time ticked by and eons of love simmered in decay in the windy, moaning room.
The contours of the chipped at walls were bearable with books and music,
And sometimes pleasantly surprising with occasional rays of sunshine and fragrance.
The door rarely opened, yet stayed firm with a quiet resolve,
Knowing it's watchful existence was a service to the heart of the human.
It didn't matter how many came and went,
How many forgot to close the door shut and how many forced their way in.
Every time the visitors beckoned a hungry storm wrought with their pain,
And I was left, panicking to tend the gushing wounds a...
Dear Definition of a Friend,
You've changed yet again.
It wasn't so long ago since our last stalemate, but you've unsurprisingly brought out the big guns, Busy and Not In Contact.
Last time when we had fought over a similar issue, we'd decided not to use them frequently.
But I suspect your buddy, Definition of a Life, filled your ears with garbage to create discord and make you cross that particular line you had stayed away from till now.
You know, maybe it's just me, but I really don't get this charade of nonsense you've been loudly proclaiming about in the city lately.
I heard from Compassion that you ignored him completely when he tried to start a discussion with you in Church and th...
Do not lay down
the tiles for me to step gingerly on,
I will not tread lightly
On the prison you've created.
Do not shake the dust off
Of old rusty boxes for me to enter into,
I will not decrease myself
Behind your thin, cardboard walls.
Do not bring out the puzzle
Your heart encompasses for me to decode lovingly,
I will not shave my soul to fit yours.
Do not look at me with disdain
As I resist these advances of yore,
I am no longer a fixer of your flaws,
I am no longer yours.
The only thing that could try to make or break me now,
Is the uncertainty of Your Love endowed.
It doesn't matter if it's just a kernel's length to sow,
It's in Your Company that I could only hope to bow.
We're slapping judgements here and there like we're God angels fam,
What do we even know about the tale of the sacrificial lamb?
Or the sheep, the one that replaced Prophet Abraham,
The one that prepared us for God's greatest man.
It's not about the best religion, it's about the One within.
The One that speaks to us from the folds of our heavy sins.
The One that stops us from falling into the darkness' whim.
The One that cradles all our days of a shady constant dim.
'Cause in the end, y...
My eyes have bled
A colour of pain
As the night of a thousand sorrows,
Have spilled red from my veins.
My eyes have woven
A tale of blue
Intricate to her and I,
The story we could never sew.
My eyes have silence
As their voice
A reason of the past,
A tale of coerced choice.
My eyes have decided
To bleed away
You shall continue to stay blind,
To your own hopeless ways.
Shed my skin
that prickles against my flesh
Keep the scissors down
and let the tresses grow
Follow the road not taken
and never look back
And I will find
who I'm meant to be.
The higher self
shall wait in the light
With the tresses
I so desperately sought
A smile of knowing
and truthful love
Come to me,
Come to thee.
and I shall walk along
As people stare
and rudely grow
Words and actions
Of eventual passing
I am becoming,
I will become.
Nevertheless, it's a sunny day
When your sobs and hiccups are accompanied
By teeth that gnash in evident anger,
And reason that screams toward evident irrationality.
Nevertheless, it's quiet and lonely
When you look around you for fairytale fingers
That fit around your hands like a familiar glove,
And whisper the words you now narrate to yourself.
And nevertheless, it's a never-ending tale
Of deliberate disillusionment and dissociation,
Where Yesterday's burnt bridges and ropes torn,
Are repetitively repaired by Tomorrow's bricks and knots.
Its Nevertheless, never any less
For us to feel this or that way,
To feel the essence of ourselves,
To trudge on and fight for our day.
I'm not what you would call an experienced lover.
I don't really understand subtle gestures and implicit phrases until a significant amount of time has passed and I realise the monstrosity of my perceived passivity.
I don't understand how to show my love, how to express it, how to encapsulate it in words.
Living with me, many would tilt their heads in apparent disagreement with my thoughts, stating how my personality directly betrays my sentiments.
How I'm an open book, and how I'm not complicated.
Or harbouring demons in wait for their salvation from The One True Love.
I wouldn't disagree.
Many who've shown an interest in me have often called me simple, understanding, lo...
I wasn't surprised when you arrived in my dream last night.
We were speaking softly with each other while sitting across the dining table.
You were smacking your lips clean from the cup of ice cream I had placed in front of you.
Among the murky folds of this memory, we shared our emotions, laughed and hung our heads down in sweet reminiscence.
In my dream, you were a stranger.
Someone I still had a chance with,
Someone who was curious and in awe of discovering me.
Someone who knew their boundaries and respected my cautious tone.
In my dream, just as in reality, I was hopeful and excited.
I found myself being drawn to you, being observant of your words,
Waiting for the familiar landsca...
The fisherman casts his invisible net,
Beckoning the unknown from the sea below him.
The guardian of the water rises up to the surface,
Showing a mirror to the man's face.
A dog blinks back, with a quiet air,
A growl rumbling beneath it's brown fur.
The man sighs and turns around in distaste,
Revelling in the futility of the moment.
For a crime once witnessed cannot be undone,
Even if the years pass by,
The price of staying mum in a perpetuation of old,
Shall forever haunt the fisherman's silence.
Standing at the door of tomorrow,
My self greets me with an expectant smile.
All around the edges of the wooden oak
Are the ghosts of trees that were sacrificed for its existence.
Necessity, opportunity and the money of my ancestors tug me towards the opening.
Hoping that I create a new path.
Expecting their sacrifice won't be in vain.
My self is alluring, she is beautiful and mysterious.
My eyes cannot stop searching for her hazy gaze that sends me toward the dark corner of my mind.
She is whispering what my ears have bled to hear,
And humming along the tune of my heartbeat.
Behind me, the wail of the lion cannot be ignored
And the speech of the mystic cannot be left unattended.
Sometimes, I become anxious over the possibility that I won't be able to achieve anything.
That, perhaps, I don't have it in me to fulfill my ambitions and my passion.
That instead of me, it should be that woman who is boldly able to tell a pervert off in the subway, or that mother who is struggling as a single parent.
That, it doesn't make sense...for it to be me.
As a matter of fact,
I'm told these thoughts are normal,
And that I shouldn't be so sceptical of myself.
That I should trust myself more.
That everybody has their struggles and their trophies.
But, truthfully, it boggles my mind whenever words like these swirl around my head, because I don't understand.
You shook my shoulders
And made me believe,
In unknown skeletons
Dwelling secretly in my closet.
But when I opened the door
And glanced worriedly inside,
All I could find
Were your lovely bones.
//NOTICE OF INVITE//
To whomsoever it may concern,
This is to inform you that I, a person who has been entangled with your existence for the past few years, has decided not to let it bog down my evolution anymore.
You see, I used to think that sympathy is a trait all of us ought to nurture toward ourselves, since we've all gone through our own fair share of unbelievable burdens.
Lately though, I've realised that that very same sympathy has led me to willingly close my ears to all forms of criticism from you and revel in glorifying my insecurities.
When I think about it, and I mean deeply ponder over it, I realise all it does is create a vicious cycle of ...
Let not arrogance,
Cloud your acceptance
Of the truth.
What saves us from a fatal war
Isn't our pride,
But our humility.
I went to Your Court today, while carrying a huge bag of sins. There were hundreds lined up before me, dragging their haggard arms and scratching their rotten skins as their wails echoed across the spotless hall.
I didn't know what to say and what to ask, so I just stared at the rest in envy.
I know I should've focused on obtaining Your Mercy and Your Benevolence, but my parched lips wouldn't part.
I guess it's because I didn't think I was worthy.
That's what a believer always feels in their heart, wouldn't you say?
They feel unworthy of Your Boundless Love and Your Infinite Mercy.
They cannot fathom that a Supreme Being like you could love someone so despicable and despised ...
My heart started to ooze out one day,
A toxin of poison and angst.
So I hurried over and begged to know the reason.
She told me she wanted a voice.
I visited my mind and humbly asked,
For partial ownership of the throat.
He clogged it up and vehemently disagreed,
Saying he was saving us from her daily boasts.
"She's a kid, a little toddler!
She has no restraint!" He complained.
"She cries one moment and laughs the next,
Pitiful, impulsive, INSANE!"
I went back to my heart with my head hanging in shame,
From all the hurtful words he had said.
She lifted my chin and whispered to me
To talk to my hands instead.
"I'll grow old with you, we'll die together,
So let's do the best we can."
When my friends asked me to introduce you,
I wanted to call you my lover
But my heart understood before my mind did,
So I called you my beloved instead.
And all of a sudden,
On that hot, humid night,
Wearing uncomfortable emotions and made up intimacy,
All of Shakespeare's poetry
It's haunting to realise that I have the capability to intentionally hurt someone.
To mix my words with the aftertaste of revenge's bitterness and inject it into someone's unsuspecting heart.
It makes me despise myself.
Especially during those times when I look back in retrospect and hide my eyes from my memories of immature and embarrasing social dealings.
To put it simply,
I like to think I'm the good guy;
the main protagonist that everyone sympathizes with and unconditionally loves.
The person that has things going tough for her, and so she naturally attracts compassion.
But then, when I delve deep into my persona and uncover my true intentions, I begin to intimately understan...
There are days when I believe in myself and the talents You have given me.
I cry with gratitude and lower my being on wet soil, remembering my origin and my return.
Those days are short, and sweet.
...And then there are days like these.
When even though Your footsteps steadily approach me, my mind fathoms it to be the exact opposite.
When even after Your Mercy envelops every waking moment in my life, I feel my skin prickle with Your Anger.
I tell myself it's an illusion and try to find ways to calm this harrowing chaos wreaking havoc in my mind,
Yet there are days when I lower myself to this darkness,
And tell myself I am beyond the realm of Your Love and Boundless Mercy.
I know. ...