everything has a time
a fixed point
to synchronise chaos

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s *******. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
*-James Douglas Morrison

As cliché as it sounds,
I don't blame you for not loving me.
Because honestly,
sometimes,
even I find it hard to appreciate
the facade underneath.
Laughing behind layers of lies --- upon lies --- upon lies...

See,
you're a dazzling star with a bright future.
I'm a grotesque creature with lots of sutures.
To the gleaming horizon,
you can still go further.
My only domain
is this stygian abyss,
where even the golden strings
from the Heavens above couldn't pierce.
A place where crimson flowers wither,
is the only dwelling where I could slither.
As I watch you from here,
the distance
between our fingertips
grows farther.

We're beings of the same nature,
But we are of different elements.
I thought you were my savior,
but I got the bitter end of it.
In our future, I was so sure,
I cast the bait, you bit the lure,
and after you got
what you sought,
you left me.

For months on end,
I had to endure
the pain which your vocal *****
have conjured,
but rest be assured,
that one faithful day,
all of these crystalline sorrows
flowing out of my organic aqueducts
would cease to flow,
and shatter on my lap.
One faithful day,
I would find a tincture
to cure and soothe the festering wounds
that's making my core
throb in pain.
And maybe then,
death's sickly sweet allure
wafting in the air
wouldn't be tempting.

All I need is to wake up and smell the flowers.

I am scared that you won't like
The ugly parts of me
The parts I am ashamed of
The parts I try to hide

Somehow they come out so easily
With a single thought or memory
Ironically I'm still an open book
I've revealed it to you, my crumpled heart
Like damaged goods, a cracked plate
Not everything is honeysuckle sweet
There are darker parts to me

do you feel
my
hollow loneliness
screaming at you
from across
the world?