Today I don't feel quite well
I am jaded and listless
my resolve ripped in shreds
My mind is a careless mess
and all I crave is undeserved rest.
I keep running and running
outward, onward towards oblivion
straight into the horizon
Hoping not to get caught.
But they're faster than I ever will be,
they're catching up, fast on my heels
I keep my shadows tied to my ankles
but they're stepping on my feet.
Just don't drag me down, I beg.
Sometimes I delude myself into thinking
they would listen but they don't
they never did, they never will.
I can only pray they don't wrap their fingers around my neck
again and push me down with them
Dragging me across the gravel
'til I am a bloodied mess.
Pain is a wish and death is a promise
My bruises get bruises
from the thought of
I once wrote poetry for a boy who didn't care about genuine words strung together on a delicate silver chain. He tore it apart, ripped it in shreds. And for some foolish reason, I was okay with that.
I've come to realise that I deserve better. I deserve a boy who didn't find my thoughts silly or juvenile. Perhaps I deserve nothing, - but I certainly did not deserve a boy who ran penknives across portraits I painted with my own hands.
I was foolish, I admit. But I am not bitter. Maybe I was, for half a second. Wouldn't you, if you were deceived into believing sugarcoated lies? Lies which at one point made your heart bloom because all you saw was the trap, the beautiful trap. Those were the lies I played in my head on long, lonely nights to make me feel better. They were the soundtrack of my days. I would never have guessed that they were pernicious seeds which would grow into ivy, creeping and entwining within my mind- I was ensconced in poison and realised too late. But I am not bitter. I know better.
Things have a way of working out. I did ask for it. I wished so hard to have someone, anyone lend validity to my existence. In some ways he fulfilled that but he largely left an empty space where my heart should be.
I did give him everything. Now I want it all back.
God knows I didn't deserve to hurt.
She's the sort of girl who wears her hair down because it makes her feel free.
She likes her white trainers roughed up because she thinks that gives them character.
And when her laces unravel, she leaves them be.
Her laugh would remind you of silver bells- musical and delicate.
Her smile sends a wave of warmth running down the coldest of spines.
She keeps a moleskin notebook in her leather jacket.
To pen down observations of people
and to sketch the underside of leaves
she picks off pavements.
She isn't perfect
but she seems so anyway
When wisps of hair stick against her cheek
She tucks them behind her ears
and is instantly neat.
She has croissants for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It makes her feel somewhat reminiscent of a French lady
She thinks she's hopeless but really she isn't
She's a dreamer with dreams too large to hold in her hands
Sometimes she climbs more steps than her legs could reach
And when she falls,
she feels like a failure.
But she isn't. And she isn't me.
I've been too busy living on the train, speeding ahead far too fast to enjoy the breeze caressing my hair. I am ever aware of the minutes that tick by, time is slipping through my fingers and I know can't have it back. Sometimes I do something about it, other times I don't. Often, I pause and think, "My goodness I really do need to slow down". I can't even finish my thoughts. They lie, strewn around carelessly in this exhausted mind and I can't be bothered to smoothen the creases.
Yet I am still happy. I can't not be- not after lulling around in the void for ages. I'm different now, stronger. Like an alloy. Oh, to be surrounded by people whom I venerate. The ones who make me laugh 'til my sides feel bruised. Its that pain again- the good kind of pain. People who offer their bones to support me even when I can stand on my own. People whose smiles make me smile and whose joys and sorrows I share. People whose thoughts and sentiments are akin to my own, our frequencies alike. People whose existence embellish my days and are whom I regard as treasures more precious than fancy stones.
I live for the painful kind of laughter. I live for the impromptu walks and confessional chats. Standing in the snaky queue, waiting to buy a chocolate croissant to ease 2pm hunger pangs. Iced coffee to evade slumbers in lectures. I live for those windy afternoons- sitting at the empty grandstand with a dear friend. And those evenings when everyone gathers to watch a football match. Sitting on the synthetic field, outstretched on the vast green. Taking polaroids by the red track. Blithe memories delineated in film. Sun-soaked and joy-filled, overflowing to the brim.
I owe it to them. The ones who make my head light-headed with giddy happiness and illuminate my world in all its entirety.
Which brings me to my next point- you. I can't explain what I feel about you, neither do I understand what I feel. But what I do know is that I like the way you laugh and when your hair is a mess. Its endearing,- imperfection. I like when you wait for me to catch up so we can talk. Even for a while. Those moments are bliss. I enjoy basking in your presence. I feel strangely at ease, our footsteps synchronised like the similarities we share. I like how I don't quite know you that well-yet. Right now you are an unfinished novel- a mystery- awaiting to unfold, to be figured out. And for some odd reason, in the quiet- there's more to you than meets the eye. I know you don't wonder about me like I do about you but its all I can wish for- to be in your 3am thoughts.
The more I learn
the lesser I know
The more knowledge I amass
the more humbled I am
The universe is vast with complexities
It overwhelms me
There are so many galaxies
hidden in distant corners, undiscovered.
And I know,
I'm merely a tiny speck
amongst gazillions of stars
embellishing brilliant blue-black skies.
My significance- virtually non-existent.
My years add up, yet,
I am non the wiser.
Just a tad bit more careful
when I tread on rocky paths.
My mind overworks
but my heart is still young.
Irrationality runs in my blood.
Long live the reckless.
I might understand biological concepts-
how the brain functions.
Alas, I'll never quite understand myself.
There's so much more lessons to learn,
time will give me that.
but there is no time for us to yearn,
the transience of youth- I will never forget.
Tick tock tick tock
Tuesday, 25 February 2014 @ 20:29 0 stares
goes the relentless clock
I'm growing restless with time
Wondering what is rightfully mine
Nothing I have done here
Has been worthwhile
I question my decisions
Pore over the what-ifs in disgrace
Every opportunity I've let slip past-
I recall with a bitter aftertaste.
My days here are numbered
by the hourglass.
As I age yet another year,
I look back, pervaded with fear.
I couldn't have gotten wiser
if I've foolishly repeated mistakes.
What is the point in getting older
If the conscience refuses to wake?
I don't want to be held captive
Locked in a steel cage
Confined within the bars
of repressed rage.
Bound by chains of self-doubt
Cuffed by contradicting ways.
Dig me a grave on an empty hill
Date of demise: impending
will be the ending
I'll carve in stone.
In a perfect world, questions have answers.
Saturday, 22 February 2014 @ 21:49 0 stares
I traverse continents of complexities
in search for answers
steadfast ones with on-point accuracy
to swallow my queries,
but they don't exist;
and my search persists.
In a perfect world,
people of various colours embrace,
instead of ammunition.
In a perfect world,
kisses heal wounds, not stitches.
And friends don't lodge knives
in one another's backs.
But the world isn't perfect
Not for an ephemeral second
Not even when I close my eyes
And slip into a moment of transient bliss and quiet.