Your bitter synopsis
A raging storm but quite pointless bluster
Slamming against an echo chamber
Like the empty vessel you are


My practiced charade
Masks and more masks
Hidden away my visage
For my eyes would betray my thoughts


Her eternal solitude
Penance she pays
For the sins never wrought
In permanent slumber.


His silent auction
He doesn't believe in words anymore
Actions drag him closer to the edge
Making a choice he'll never regret


Their solemn vigil
Below neon lights
With smiles long practiced
And temples beyond restoring

Our voices harmonic
As we breathe
With that feeling
Fire scorching nerves
Drowning in sensation
Grounded in the moment
Lost in the space between us.

Relive.
Relief.

Two words that couldn't be farther apart.


Why does it sound so close, yet too far?

Relive : a small chime slowly drawing you in, to dream of a dream that was never a dream. A drowsy half state of a dead mind, and the best of your heart's desire.

Relief : the guitar strings thudding loudly as the drumming in your breast tolls a bell, that never ends til destinations been reached. The mind singing choirs of devastation averted, and the heart returning back to a slow rhythm.

Feel your/my/our exposed nerves.
Comprehension breaks down as submission draws nearer.

We're all a beautiful mess,

A canvas with a thousand painters,

Using pallid palettes for a stroke of brilliance,

And leaving the same way we all entered.

There's a certain youth that he missed the first time around.

A spring in step, a key gear unwound.


(The writer's eye is unbiased.

He clearly saw something that took a while to cultivate.)

In the same time-space that it took for her, something magical happened.

Colours exploded on the dance floor, unspoken desires (perhaps a few wet *******) sweat and passion all in simultaneous eruption.

Perhaps he'll give this a spin.
Dropping and closing his eyes, blissfully unaware whether there is trust or not.

Identity, of what some of us lack, which some of us get swallowed up by. The feeling of your words, the nuances of your tone, the emotive language of your being. We're caught up in different covers, the beds we left unfulfilled, glasses left half-empty with patchwork flesh bound with less-than reliable memories. Fog clouds our vision in the mirror, bodies that feel foreign, as if the skin's innards are someone, or something else's.

It's a funny metallic feeling,

A ****** taste in my mouth,

A slight despair filled with minor joy.



You're me.

And I'm you.

Without you there is no me.

Dying for you, dying for me.

Perhaps saying it makes it right,

Perhaps saying it makes it true.


Reach out to me in your sleep.

Walk alongside me in my waking hours.


Shadow my every step,

Follow each motion through.


Marry the left with right,

Kiss the top of each other's forehead.


The king in black meets a foe he has been fighting for far too long.


The seer in white comes out to hold the king's hands with the words he has been waiting for a lifetime to hear again.


"I forgive you."

You are to me, like how blood and wine are interchangeable, mutable.

I am to you, the raging storm passing by the coast, cold relief down your spine.


Both together, hand in hand, an addictive desire to better oneself, and the lust for ruination.


You are the ghost I'll never give up.

So you want my name then?

Which one do you want?

The one I call myself by,
Or what people call me?


Names have power.

And I'm only going to give you one.

Our footsteps,
Not similar,
Yet familiar.
X meets Y in this rendition of love.

With the last few red strands between us, I chose to be enraptured/enthralled/captivated/incapacitated.


With the last few red strands between us, you chose to be choleric/enraged/unwilling/adamantine.


Weaving our strands back together,
We chose enlightenment/humility/symbiosis/nurture.


Stoked my flames
Freed your spirit
In slavery there is happiness
In a bond of two there is freedom
Chains interchangable
Fingers entwined
A mutual fatality
An ubiquitous invitation

For this is everlasting, everlong.

Her scent brings me home.

When our lips brush against each other,
It is with the brilliance of a thousand fireflies.

But when they part, they do so with the reluctance of too many farewells on train carriages.

Who knew we were just two black holes spinning in a perpetual spin cycle, not even meeting the courtesy of becoming pulsars?

On a lighter note,
Love is a striptease that never ends
Even the most jaded will grudgingly admit
And for the notes that struck the heart
Notes that bring synthesia into the gray
Daring the gloom to seep, weeping into life
Enter joy, endless mirth, for it is how things should be.
Rejuvenating, primordial essence for the soul, and a cool wind for the mind.

And the best things about her were never how she dressed.
Neither when she danced circles around me when she held my hand.
It was as simple and unsettling like an open flame, that I held for warmth and to feel.
The line blurred between us for my surrealism and hard drawn lines for reality.
Maybe it was the knife edge she gave me as I traced runes on my left arm.
Mystical experiences that left blood on my lips. Was that it?
I am the child of the sun, and she was the space in between my heavenly Father and just like her signsake, she keeps me in places where I never have been.. and never will again.
I'm where I should be.
And I'll never be again whole.
Just like how movements are fluid, and how feelings are fleeting.
Firespark. Dreamstate. Singing in silence.
That, is the best thing.
And with her.
Me, to you.

We can't fall asleep outside with everyone anymore.

Our own beds are the last line of defense against the black.

The black of the past, holding nothing but rosy sepia.

To feel red, to bleed red, to be red.

It's not enough.

The blood must flow unconsciously,
The need bleeds from every inch of self.

A hunger, that is not misunderstood.

A quiet day followed by empty nights without her.

It's finding she's Yoko to your Lennon.

Ah, the silence of conniptions.

What would they say, what would they do?

There is no cold white light for me.
Only the stark white after all the grey.

A love so brittle it might as well be bound in papyrus.

The faintest of smiles would rekindle it though, and etch more scriptures onto once bony, stony hearts.

If living is literally Hell

And agony accompanies my every step

I'm glad even if you aren't.


I'm here once more with you.

What else could I ask for?

So tell me.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again,
And arriving at the same result.


What about doing the same thing over and over again, and finally arriving at a different result?

grinning
smacks lips


Why, I'll tell you.

It's genius.

Thrilling at the thought of leaving you again,
Not realising it was really me who I was going to leave.


dead state


Mistaking your smiles for more than what it really is worth,
After learning so much yet still failing the tests anyway,
Setting this bridge on fire when you're still on it.

best conditions

Prose breaks down as stanza hears your screams, freeform falling into the dark backward and abysm of time,
the hot asphyxiation leading to death throes and need for release.



im sorry


I'm leaving.
Three steps.

misdirection
erasing my existence
departure

I know it speaks a lot when the shards that embedded themselves into me still aren't dislodged.

Much like Tony Stark, we're both afraid of what would happen if we take them out, for as much as we would literally die if we don't take them out, we're deathly afraid of the process.

What if it goes wrong?
What if it turns out worse?

What if I become different?
And I lose my sense of purpose, the burning passion, the spark of devilry put out?


What if I'm afraid of change?

All year round struggling with innate sensory overloading.


But I kept pretending that it was all good, til it wasn't.
From the little harlots I met, to the black holes I've created.


There's no more time, for one more line to blow.
Nothing in the end resembles what I imagined it to be.


**Carpe diem quam minimum credula poste

The sun might rise over you.

The days may grow longer and more pleasurable with you.


The night might belong to me.

The nights, cocoon us in our endeavors.


Time keeps ticking by.


Your smile canonised my feelings.


Clueless as we were, we couldn't get enough of that feeling.

Before you were here before,
I didn't know where to look at,
To be standing, being bronzed by the Sun, or to be seated, head held in my hands.


And the orchestral works that ensued weren't unlike bird traps, binding the next one, til I had enough and discarded innards I had enough supping on.


Never did I know the least likely of insidious chapters I would go through,
New beginnings would herald,
Gritted teeth and gratitude ensuing.


Psychosis attacks, mental breakdowns and more scars on the body, beautifully macabre.
I'm all hung up, you were all stuck up,
Til I stuck you up.

I am a machine,
I was a machine,
A war machine.

A pretty hate machine.

I don't need a Khadijah.

Neither do I want an Delilah.

A little bit of what Freud said,

And unhealthy doses of Darwinism.

I'm stuck in a perpetual state of being,

I'm stuck in a constant cycle of repetition.


You can't have your cake and eat it.

But for now, the tunes will simmer, strain and boil my feelings.


With the curling of fingers down your face.

What we claim we do for love
we do for ourselves

a proof of duty
a molting bone marrow

the silent rites
the subdued preaching

a subtle instinct
of making your mark

the basic instinct
of a flame going out.

They all feel the same.


The soft, thin lips

The thick, creamy feel.


The hunger doesn't arise.

Tell me again how your lips passed down holy writs into my spine.

i dare you to

Instruct me on how I'm supposed to dress, looking into the mirror cracked up like an old tired clown.

feed me spoil me

Undo the ropes that fester into my skin, tell me about the colours that emerge.

that same old fragrant mouth

Make me a cure for wellness, tell me how I'm wrong again, how the words don't rhyme anymore with your chains tearing into my flesh again

the same stench of rotting meat

Full of crystals from the salt of sweat


Subsumed in pain
I leave these words to you
Never will I go back again.

Body marked by scars
Heart full of holes
Mind filled with cracks
Soul smeared with taint

But you were the best I ever had.

Sullen eyes sink


Heart beats neatly like it was told to


Forged of dirges


Shaped of dirks


Owned by a ****


Static silences all the mouth elated attempts to break out of


Like the ****


A private one


Sullen and silly


With no where to go.

A scent wafted through the air, her sunlight into your monsoon.
Your eyes closed, to take her in before she even came through the door.
Even breaths, soft chuckling curled around your ears.
Losing yourself in her presence, tracing your runes down her face.
How long have you waited for this moment?
You keep replaying that scene, with the sun behind her back in a ring of fire.
This is the fabled lover's cascade, isn't it?

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.

First, we write about vague things involving ourselves.
Secondly, we solemnly promise to never break each other.
Thirdly, we take a bow and dip each other in baptisms of fire.
After all that, we pretend like we had never met.
In the end, we burn down bridges and walk away amongst molten flowers.

Finding the words to say,
Instead resorting to babbling semantics.
Victory so close at hand
Easing all sense of doubt (and courage)

Yesterday even though was rosy
Eased all doubts,
And united us, once and for all.
Restoration of hope, ending heartache.
So, we do the dance again and again.

Love, here's to you.
Oh my goodness.
Love, here's to us.

"So I uh, well. Heh."


"أنا  بحبِك"

The gnawing hunger. I understand it now.

I was stagnant, living with you.
Waiting for you to fill a void, imagined you would fill it.


Why was I addicted to it in the first place?

I need a cure for wellness.
A cure for the human condition.


We all desire something, someone we can never have.


**** fragmentation, **** frolicking in joy.
I'm better off this way.
Palinode. Tear. Shatter. Destroy.



You can stay in the light.
I'll stay away from you.
You can find someone better.
I'll go away for good.
Lest you put out my fires again.


I rip out the tubes that kept me with you.
This dead heart should have never beat for you.

I am convinced beyond a doubt that I cannot sustain this.. normal life.

Settling for this domain has always been strange.

Cassette tapes on loop on my natural state of being : Chaos.

Fight this when every inch of my being wants to go where I wanna be?
Oh Lord. I cannot.

kisses down spine
cheeks cupped
lips trailing down


Her book still isn't stained with bile.
Her youth isn't tarnished.


hands snaking to the front
back to forward
his growling
my grunting
her moaning


I am convinced beyond a doubt that I cannot sustain this.. normal life.


I crave the midnight snack
Arms wrapping around her for warmth and sweet scent of sweat
Chewy gum tree taste on my serpent tongue


Music feeding the mood

From desire there is surrender
From surrender, power

Flesh submitting to carnal stimulation
Body realigning to devour the sin
Mandibular advancement on her sweet meat

I crave you.
Memento excoquere et ego vobis.

I'm listening to the silent groves your favourite song made.

I'm packing up the baggage I carried around for years.

Soon I'll come around, waking from the dreamer's vigil.

Staring at portraits in my wallet, feeling myself falter.


Just for a moment, to let myself feel your voices once more.

Giving in to vices, one more time to feel vulnerable,

I'll keep marching on, because the difference this time?


I'll swear I'll never be there.

How long do you want to be moved by your own thoughts which are discretionary?


Pray Hell and high tide never comes for you.


I'll be riding at the peak of their crests, screaming.

"As I live and breathe!"
How goes your latest despair?
Does it say "silent volume"?*
"Or perhaps, a new addiction for every end of day?"

Never looking through glass panels again,
To see how have things changed.

There's no need for the flames to dance across the darkness, no more.
It's seductive, I know.

It's tempting, I.. know?
There's always a need to look back, to learn.
Tell tale signs of intrusion, prevent your mind from being unchained.
Now, prepare for the ambush.
Feed the paranoia.
Fear the abandonment.

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.

What you told me, rang true.
Did I want to use the power of the hammer to shatter glass?

Or to forge myself anew, like steel?
The fact I kept talking about how things were, showed I cared still.

Now, scream at the hole we left each other.

I find myself staring at rows of dairy products to no particular reason.

The pleasure of pressure brings no joy

Walking down old haunts against a flow of faces I will never remember.

Drowning sight in rose-tinted glasses

What if I don't want anything anymore?

These crown of thorns sewn into my skull to be a king of fools.

As rune carvings ran red,

And blood-red eyes began to clear.

Adrenaline entered half-life.

Ash fell from the skies once more.

Greeting the world in crow down.


"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

We felt the soles of our feet cracking up

As the moon gazed upon our alabaster skin

Silently we went to sleep


And then we woke up to the waves in between us, pushing us away.

She is my silent purpose

My unwritten desire

Until one day she realizes

I'm the little pretender

Never getting tired of her.

Sweet flowers grace my nose,

Only to be met with disdain.

I still prefer the little harlot's.

C'est la vie./Through the glass

We abashedly curled at lips

Swooned at hips

Harkening back to a period of time that no longer existed

(Where is my mind?)

She was-
Is still beautiful
Neither there, just here now.

Her voice echoing ever and ever :

"Hello."

We'll be alright alone.

Everything burns in the end.

Lit sparks

Carried the flame to burn alone

On the wings of a butterfly,

May we find who we are, truly.

Even when we have no face.

So, it's dark to you, huh.

Then take my hand and watch me slip under.

Let's drown everything in a shade of gray.


Whispering in monochrome, noir, dystopia, sepia.

Give up on her because you know friends aren't meant to fall for each other.

Leave her alone because you know that she can do so much more better.

Sever the emotion at the root so you can feel better about yourself.

**** the love you feel.