Tag Archives: assure

x ∞

i am more than me

in this universe

than the universe

shall ever be

i am me and more

yet i am more of me

more than i will ever be

for i am me

and i will be

more than me

than i shall ever be

no sorry, no maybe

just me being me

for this is me, you see

and i am me

t i m e s × i n f i n i t y.

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Weekend Hymns

“If you call me at all, don’t tell me that I’m ordinary, ’cause I won’t be passing you, please don’t leave…” serenades the familiar strains of a soothing voice, interlacing delicately with the quaint glassy chords of a softly-strummed guitar, and dissipating behind the skeletal mist of the hazy whorled coffee smoke. Spongy traces of a cold jelly roll melt and shiver in my tongue, leaving traces of a sweet sensation to tease these anticipating taste buds of mine. On my right side lays a Fantastic Beasts colouring book opened on a page of Newt Scamander’s luggage, abandoned coloured pencils scattered everywhere, and a half-finished unwritten postcard with vibrant pastel shades complimenting each other in mild, careful strokes; and on my left side a battered notebook overstuffed with scribbled papers and a slightly-chewed black pen, waiting patiently to bleed words into blank parchment.

Turn off these lights, call my name. Don’t talk, just drive… Another potent vocal joins in with the tranquil music, rhythmic acoustic strains and deep baritone timbre sending quiet shivers pleasantly down my spinal column. The rain has come to a cradlesong refrain, and, time being, has ceased from thrumming a metronomic pitter-patter against the fogged-up windows. I pause, place a cat bookmark on page 12 of John Steinback’s Of Mice and Men, and take another sip of my tepid milky drink and huddle further underneath my delicate blue blanket, starry night socks rubbing against the creaky bed mattress as I do so. After partaking in such a short interlude, I indulge zealously in my awaiting literature once more, losing myself against the mollifying song and letting my imagination run away and be caught between George and Lennie’s frolicsome bickering and humbler conversations.

“Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ’em.” George concluded drowsily as the chapter came to a finish, synchronously alongside Jonny Craig’s flourished crescendo of And baby, honestly these teeth won’t let you go…”, and I thumbed down on the page and set down the book once again, lost in a silent reverie. This day seems to be nothing but a lucid woolgathering, and in a momentary splinter from reality, I am quite unsure which is a fact, and which is nothing more than a mere dream anymore. It left me slightly confused whether I had actually been chasing musicians through a cornfield full of bedraggled zombies in Southern California, or if my grandmother had actually been confined in the hospital after an unfortunate slip and needs three months of bed rest to recover, or whether any of those were even real, not just derogated fantasies of an inured mind in dire need of a proper rest. Perhaps I’m simply tired. I had, after all, been looking for my exuberant nephews for a good part of the afternoon. But this is a good tired, unlike the draining emptiness of a tired stress that I have been beleaguered with the entire week. And this time around, I’ll sleep not to forget the memories. Rather, I’ll sleep to remember them.

“If you call me at all, oh if you call me at all…” The mellisonant sincerity of his lilting assurances envelopes my weary and aching bones tangibly, as if the xanthous stars had personally touched down from the lavender-blotched sky and given me a synesthetic embrace from the gentle cosmos. The final coda of the song falters and fades against the distant monsoon, washing away every worry, every qualm, every cynical thought and nightmarish daydream of mine, washing me away under the horizon’s encore performance of dying sunshine and inchoate moonbeams alike. I breathe deeply and finally close my eyes, listening to the hymn of the rainy weather and halcyon weekend continue to play around me. I’ll be alright. For now, at least…I’m alright.

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Filed under Prose

l-eye

i look up

to your strength

confidence

and your ability

to look me

in the eye and

assure me

i’ll be fine

but i never went

past those

hopeful glances

to find

the weaker side

within that

was also suffering

and dying.

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Filed under Poetry

Truancy

i’m relapsing

back to the old habits

that got me rife,

kicked out and

expelled gracelessly

out of a good life.

old habits die

hard, but i’ll die

even fucking harder

so please push the

air out of my lungs

and fill it with water.

it’s truancy and blades

and blood-red ink,

it’s guilt over music

screaming internally

so i won’t have to think.

it’s brooding in bookshelves

scribbling on paper

and drowning in books,

falling out of reality and

hiding under the tables like

a broken broke crook.

it’s beating and seething

and semantically cheating

in the classless class,

it’s skipping on responsibility

and regretting, and my

conscience now tastes crass.

i attempt to assure, and

i say it’ll be fine, it’s only

for half of a wasted day,

screw it, i’ll be fucking okay

even though i know i

won’t be anyhow anyway.

i’m relapsing, i’m collapsing

i’m the suspect confessing

my criminal records curt,

so don’t try to pull me out

of the wreckage, you know

in the debris, you’ll just get hurt.

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Filed under Poetry