What the eyes can't see... won't hurt.

[Epic Scene III: Characters in a Scene]

Just words.

Just like how we would destroy ourselves inside out. Leave me. Get out. Go. Run in the opposite direction, away from the route that I would follow. Flame your foot prints as you depart. I am the ghost of you. Seeking you out, in every shadow, in every picture, in every site, in every regret. Please. Go before I kill you. What will they be saying? We can't exist now. Do you know that? Or am I the only one who doesn’t know it? We won't be holding hands, we won't catch a movie, we won't be taking a stroll in the park, we won't do all that now. We won't. And you won't be there. As I won't be here. Because it is the end when that happens. In this reality, it will always be. It is the end when we walk out into the light together. There is no fairy tales. There are no happy endings here. The darkness and the unknown is the only future for our being. Do you fathom? Just like how you never existed or be seen in this pane, be gone just as you were. I am begging you. Clawing the walls and floors of the unseen. It will always be incomplete. And I will always be clamping my hands to my mouth to shut myself from weeping out loud. So that you won't hear. And I won't make a sound.

under the cut

[Epic Scene II : A little more this time]

She's not here today. I found myself walking under the shadow of trees, fixated at the thought that you might appear again, with that familiar slouch and shield eyes. There's nothing for me to work on today, so sleep I shall.

But I was wrong, was I? She was here, just away in a form of way. And there I go, like the cat. Mesmerize by the shimmering purple glow. Same colour again? What significance does it have to you? Would it be incense to be clothed in that body near you? Amazing isn't it? How all this is writing itself out. It's not you this time, I'm sure. But still, why here and now? Damn those obligations which I can't leave behind to answer all these questions.

This thrill and anticipation, have I taken this too far that I may actually start to hurt from watching. Since when did watching inflicted invisible paper cuts? So fast, quick and clean, that the blood comes faster then the pain.

Now let the chased start chasing.

Alright?

Under The Skin

[Epic Scene: As the mind writes itself out]

I keep seeing this splitting image of you in her. As she walks into the cabin, the air freezes slightly to make an entrance, to let me know it is her. A part of you, in her. Or the fact that your blood runs through her. Those minute details causes a stir to my instincts, but then again there is no point is there? It will always be my imagination. There are two different distances from my door, but which is it, is real? You take her features very well, the contours of her eyes, and the thickness of her lips. Do you talk to her? Or know where she is heading today? Funny, I have this sudden urge to head in her direction or destination. Now I sound like a sick pervert do I? Maybe one day I can be completely honest about my writings and what a sick twisted mind I have. Would you even call me romantic?

Now I can't see her. But just know that she is sitting across with eyes closed; is she dreaming or thinking about what is next to come? Why does she feel purple today? Cold perhaps? I know the fall of her hair and colour have changed, but why? To cut and live; or anew?

This is the moment where I depart. Goodbye sweet image of you. But she opens her eyes as I leave, and I slow down to watch her pass. Sick satisfaction I get in just watching and knowing. Maybe they don't call it fate in this part of our world, or country for a matter of fact. Then tell me, what should I call it?

As I fall behind, please don't tell me she is seeing you? Are you the visit or a job?

This is as far as I can go, or my eyes can see.

This is not right.

Knowing creates a comfort.

Not knowing brings about a fascination.

But we all know, that curiosity have always killed the cat.

passing

Can I give you back a song, in return for all of yours that you have given? Will you read what I have to say, and understand the words beneath the song. Everything. Is still undecided. So turn. Turn my grief into grace. Take everything away. As I face my demons again. I have nothing. But a run down half torn screen, still connecting my world, somehow. I don't know when it will die. Have I destroyed myself too far this time round? How do I come back now. God, save my soul. Because this is the final dance to my story. I can't remain a constant. I can't stay here. Help me take flight. I will die. I am dying.


What is the point? Feeling horrible and knowing that we are not going die from those feelings, that is the point. Sew the flesh, repair the damage, ease the pain. When life breaks down, when we break down, there is no signs, no hard and fast rules, we just have to feel our way through.

Wake

What if I said, that every time when I wake I have to forgive myself for it?

Out

[Epic Story - Out]

If you destroy me now, I won't forgive you. I don't know what other other words are left in the dictionary of my head or humanity or poetry to explain the depth of tiredness my soul is shackled with. I can't hold up anymore this time, I need to lean and fall, not down and out and off. And if I have to keep my hands on the knife to my heart again, I don't know how far in - it would go this time. Because right now I can't breathe, I can't think. Your words can't seep, what you are doesn't seem. So back off. Let me take my breath again. She shot a question where the mind can't help but put it on replay; that the warp up thing is knowing how the answer will write itself out.

script

Epic Story - Hush

Wake up she said, don't go there, you can't and you shouldn't. I felt her grasp, her breath against my skin. Was it me that shook or was it her. You can't slip this way. So stay. How many twisted ends and walls have we ran to be back here again. Isn't it time yet? No? When will it be enough for you. Don't strum these chords or sing these words if you are coming back here again. It is not fair. It is not right. So twisted and morbid we are, that it is all so very cruelly seductive at the same time. She clung onto me helplessly, pulling me in, shutting the lights, slipping off my skin and clothes... rendered me helpless to her touch. Hold me now, or break me forever. Hush... You are... my unfinished business.

- expiscate -

[Short Epic Story : expiscate]

With disbelief I walked in and out of each glass house. What was I searching for exactly? Something that was listened to? Something that graced our ears? I can't tell. How do they come to like the same taste and flavour of things in life. It is amazing that the only medium between time and space is a simple note. She sang all that I've sang. I can't help but choke at her words. I can't stop. I doubt I would fancy things as much as it is now. Because anything within reach isn't forbidden. What are we all searching in between these gaps and holes, it all just seems like clues intentionally left behind in time. Waiting, just waiting to be found. Have you found it yet? Listen.

smeared no more

What if I said that breaking up is the sweetest thing. It's a tear, a cut, a forced separation between two bodies, two souls that came together. Oh did they know that the coming was as hard? I think they didn't. Why is it sweet when simple things that remains kills. As tender as a scent, as soft as a breath is enough to destroy. And I know that when it ends, the writing comes as easy. I was in that place before where every song I wrote was for you. But I won't walk there now cause I've shut that door before. When it ends the memory begins. I heard that before. I lived that before. Have you? I know I won't be okay without you to keep me sane. Because I haven't been in a long while. Your the drug that I take now, and I suffer the consequence without you in my system. I'm not like those girls, those pretty little things, I'm none of that. But thank you, for seeing what you see. Or what you saw. Do you still see? How do one manage one, as one like that. I'll sing again.

spun

I made the obvious with you. Everything that I wanted. Is here. With me. For me. Near me.
Yes... hate me for making you hate me. I don't know what the fortune would bring. But haven't I been trying to live for the future for far too long, that I have missed out the present. And that's what you are. Bringing out the best and worse of me. I looked back on certain pictures. And there you were in every photograph of theirs. All pieced into one. Imperfect yes. But so very beautiful. Still. You are.
Recently, I have been tired and exhausted at the speed of living. But all that means I am living at the fullest. Simplicity. We are. There's no the one. You become the one. You make the one, the one.

Just like that.

It's September already.

Just the way i'm feeling. Shuffled.

anathema

Everything seems much easier now with this walk and pace. Unlike those whom tarnish and use, with the kind of lines drawn and scripted. Those figures in character, in words, in songs, in memory, and in all to come, is despised. How ever far, how ever great, now or later, will fall through. Their glory shall be brief and never knowing all that was lost. I look upon that name, not in pride. Even if it were to rise, I shutter at those phony. Chase all that is nothing but the wind. And when the wind dies down, so will they die.

Wild horses couldn't drag me away.
The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses

I didn't realize how unreasonably angry we could be. Not in a sane logical mind. Despite the many restraints we instill upon ourselves. How we bind our hands, heart and mind silently away from the watching eyes of the world and from evil itself. And all humanity can do is let it burn till nothing but remains, remains. Like I said, it is all nothing. But the wind. And all this too, shall pass.

____________________________________________________

On a side note... BayBeats'08 anyone?
Put on some shoes, throw your hair back, kick some sand around, and bring on the live.
Some sticks and stones would be good too.
I'll see you there.

fixate

Wake to sleep.

That's what I read.

Songs are the only familiar medium. To draw back a memory, to bring back words, to relive moments. To remember. I have this subconscious habit to tag certain songs to certain significants. So when ever the play list hits a particular song- flash.

What gets you through exactly. Which weighs. How much do you let in or let go.

I remember about the same time this year, I saw the sun set, along with the vacant blocks in time, and there came that experiment, by the bay. I felt the heat, the pulse. We lived on those jumps, those highs. Believing that it was possible, that all was suppose to be a part of a part.

May I always be a rebel during the same time this year next year.

Only when I hold the wheels of life in my hands do I feel alive.

coeval

There is no plan. There is no sign.
Just knowing that sleeping means waking.

tumble and fall

You know how shit happens? And you don’t understand why it does? But it did. And you are stunned. But you move on? Some how?

Yea… that’s the cycle. And it's on repeat.

So they say “Many things happen for a reason”. But they forgot or intentionally forget the remaining most crucial part of the saying “But you will only see the reason after you survive what happened and after a few months/years/centuries/decades have passed. HAHA.” Ok you get the drift.

I wouldn't have known or believed if anyone had told me that I would be here today in this time and situation in life. Now I understand why certain things fell apart and away. And I am glad it did. Because I get to save and care for someone I love. I get to be at a place at a position at a turning point in life. In my own and in someone else's life.

I took a step back, and took a free fall to see clearly what remains. And there is so much evidence in the nothingness. It was all just a chase for the wind.

thwart

I hold in my hands the last ounce of candor, the intention to liberate, mar…
I turn my gaze to meet the blaze of outlines and sketches in the being, trying, remembering not remembering how faces were plastered on before. It was all a happenstance of the mind. Hazy flashes of yellow and orange, warm colours of familiarity. Ringing laughter’s of ghosts in recollections.The pursuit for a believable spot in reality and humanity, misplaced. With preference now not to be implicit; since similarity is in the consequence. Are we not humans governed by sentiment and stance?

God... you know... my heart.

revelation

I won't be sorry with regards to what I write, wouldn't I be a hypocrite if I did?
I am thankful to the people that understands.
It is time to move on.

remix

Of the past: Why?

Your inner eye has clouded over so much that it's impossible for you to see.
Does any emotion still reside within the depths of your heart?

Having the entire world at your fingertips is that what you consider happiness?

Why? Why do you look up into the lonely heavens

Why? Can't u laugh a little?
I understand this character of you, this disposition that is incapabale of putting anything into words.
What was it that came to be in your sequestered past?

These eyes of yours they refuse to meet the world.

All alone with only the lonely night to cradle you

Is this the warmth that you have come to know?
Why? Why are you so concerned with the way you look?

Why cant you not open your heart a little?
You've been taxed by this heavy burden for so long.

It's time that you learn to accept yourself, have more faith in yourself.
It is those who are free that are stumbling.

It is those who are free that are insecure.
Why? Why do you look up at the lonely sky?

Why can you not laugh even slightly?

I can appreciate this reticent character of yours

You only have to try to believe.

inside my mind

I have absolutely forgotten about my poems I have published on poetry.com, till I received a mail from that site. Looking back... reading back...brings back memories of adolescences. I seem to dig the pessimistic side of things, look beyond sadness for even more sadness… Shakespeare was gay, I’m just grey. As years go by you realize that the definition of things you have given has been constantly changing. What I perceive and wrote about love, life, people and self-invented theories have all become a past. And presently, I have not been writing much. Presently, I am a mess. I don’t have a solid plan to the next step in life, I am petrified, that I do not have any form of precautionary measures if something like this were to come up (again or not). We all know the classic of; “In case of fire, break glass”, but how about “In case of unemployment, break self?” I need something to happen. But the funny thing is I don't know exactly what. I can't shake off this haunting feeling I get. On a side note, I miss Jo. I don't say it but I do. Knowing at night there will be another soul awake, blasting away monsters, raiding the fridge, etc… I guess it is the knowing that makes me feel secure… safe… less alone? He is an alter ego of me (that I silently want to be), he is my pride… knowing that if I don’t make it anywhere in life in this household, he has done it all.
I don’t like me now.

dream within

Free the dream within

The stars are crying a tear

A sigh escapes from heaven

And the world's end

Breathe the dream within

The mystifying

We tremble and spin

Suspended within

Look beyond where hearts can see

Dream in peace

Trust, love, believe

Free the dream within

The voices calling, a song

A prayer from deep inside you

To guide you

Be the dream within

The light is shining

A flame on the wind

Salvation begins