Tag Archives: stranger

nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

afterwords

rain and quiet conversations

with the shadow of a stranger

warmth of coffee, cold of night

mishaps fleet, transient danger

stresses, messes, second guesses

caught in breezes, puzzle pieces

chicken soup spilled on the soul

artworks of silver and charcoal

daylight saving, wasting evenings

under trees and benches, petrichor

desolation wrapped around blue bones

waiting for the time when it feels like home.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Travel Thoughts

I’m not a fortune teller, I won’t be bringing news
Of what tomorrow brings, I’ll leave that up to you
I’m not a fortune teller, don’t have a crystal ball
I can’t predict the future, can’t see nothing at all…

~*~

I wonder sometimes, about fleeting things.

Sitting calmly and musing over tranquil thoughts on the top floor of a double-decker bus, watching tall foliage and even taller skyscrapers rush past my awe-stricken eyes, I’m basking in the excited beating of a foreign heart, a dearly beloved stranger, familiar yet unknown, warm blood palpitating fervently in a buzz of amalgamated emotions and hundreds of footsteps on the worn-down pavement. Yet I feel for my chest with a fluttering hand and find that mine seems to be dulled down into a quiet languor.

I dream of the future. And I dream of returning.

But the future tastes like a distant impossible nowhere—very much like this city that I’m currently traveling past—when the hands of my clock are still stubbornly stuck on the eleventh hour. I’m a broken compass with faded directions, and I’m never sure where the gravity is pulling the pointer towards, until I find myself lost without a second thought. I can’t ever be certain if there was even a north, south, east, or west in the first place. Maybe it’s just me and one big unfathomable plane of existence with no directions, no places to go, only nothing. And nowhere.

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where to go.

I want to carry on despite all my crippling doubts paralysing my broken legs, but the crashing ocean is my tongue is salty and deep, and the nightingale has ceased warbling melodies in my throat. I think of could-have-beens and come-what-may’s, and I try to make it sound comforting instead of terrifying, try to convince myself that I’m going in a path that I intended to cross, and I’ll make it somehow. I attempt to wrap myself around the steady beat beat beating of this stranger they call a city, and I let the static sounds and captivating lights cradle me into its metropolitan lullaby. This is only one of the million strangers I have yet to make acquaintances with. And only a fraction of my time.

And I dream of hope. And I dream that someday, I don’t have to dream anymore.

The future is fleeting. But, perhaps, I might just have one.

~*~

This feeling keeps growing
These rivers keep flowing
How can I have answers
When you drown me in questions?

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

iv.) intersections.

aesthetic-forest-road-trees-Favim.com-2544080 (2)

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

i can do shameless too (and this one goes out to you)

As we wake up in your room
Your face is the first thing I see
The first time I’ve seen love
And the last I’ll ever need
You remind her that your future
Would be nothing without her…

~*~

a s h a m e d

of violent emotions

branded on the

underside of my

numb, petulant brain,

making dizzy patterns

and dainty waves

and tracing cicatrices

of infantile graves,

returning to plague

what i always confused

and refused to admit…

y e s  i  c a n  f e e l

as the argent feathers

on your hair are effulgent,

dwelling ebony shades

escaping the delight of

my aspired clairvoyance.

they spite me for being

no stranger to the beggar

c a l l e d  l o v e

for always greeting it

rather fastidiously and

tossing a merciful nickel

whenever i chance upon it

on a bustling boulevard,

instead of spitting and

sneering condescendingly

and holding back my

burning tongue to trip it.

am i cruel for being kind?

dear, you’re a halogen

h a l l u c i n a t i o n

and i am but a yonder

sabotaged daydream

and i shall keep on falling

victim to your musings,

like a burning ochre moth

to the sickly sweet fragrance

of the kerosene oil…

so, is that truly my solitary

t r a n s g r e s s i o n ?

for being able to accept

what i’ve always constantly

abhorred and denied,

only to discover in denouement

that i’m the only fool that’s

crashing unsteady bridges

and drowning in the process—?

i shall not be craven of

the grander bouts of unknown,

for i’ve my own armament

tucked and hidden away

in a four-chambered dungeon;

ready to slash and shear

at the abstract canvas which

they all mocked as an

i n s u l t i n g  a r t w o r k .

you are not incarcerated,

but i am yours perpetual to

black out to the moon

and i will return from my

stratosphere holiday carrying

a souvenir star, lifting

the light to you, so that we

will never have to be

a s h a m e d.

~*~

If you kiss me goodnight
I’ll know, everything is alright
Second chances won’t leave us alone
Won’t leave us alone
‘Cause there’s faith in love…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Let Me In

If we’re being honest you broke every little promise
That you made to me, I was too blind to see
I was so defenseless now I’m coming to my senses
After all these years, it’s finally crystal clear…

~*~

and i let you in

when you were crying

allowing you to drown me

with relentless tears

i’m an honest man

but even good souls lie

and i’m sorry to say

every determined action ends

with a shattered promise

we’re nothing but immortal strangers

now, waiting for an introduction

that will never come

was i wrong to omit my name

in a letter meant for you?

i’m blindly stumbling down

every oath i thought they’ve taken

for the sake of lesser blood

only to find out that

you’ve been smearing it on the

blackened walls all along

so climb up on my scars and

fucking cry on them

the sting of the salt tastes better

when i know it’s deliberate

with every insipid issue

comes a cold winter to return the tides

and blowing snow in my eyes

still, i refuse to blink them

knowing you will steal my view

in the end, what’s left is a dusty attic

with a collection of all the foolish memories

of a friend and his machine

both smiling mechanically until

you can’t tell them apart at all

and this door may remain to be open

but it’s locked for you until then

feel free to knock ‘til your knuckles bleed, but

i won’t ever let you in again.

~*~

I let you bury me alive for far too long
But I’m climbing back up to the surface back to where I belong
And now it’s clear that you’re the worst part of me
How did I ever let you claw your way in so deep?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Ocean Promenades and Transatlantic Daydreams

You’ve gone and sewn me to this bed
The taste of you and me
Will never leave my lips again
Under the blinding rain
I wanna hold your hand so tight
I’m gonna break my wrist
And when the vultures sing tonight
I’m gonna join right in…

~*~

Between you and me

There’s no distance in the middle

The cold war has restarted

So let’s try to be civil

A legal murder;

That’s what you really are

With a smile that can save the

World all on its own

I grit my teeth because that’s

All I can do to just keep holding on

The smoke collides in the sky

Like decanted white wine in a movie

But no one is watching

And nobody’s ending is to die

The walls of this house are paper thin

But so is my pallid skin

I wonder if stars choose to cling to my eyes

And where all their lies begin

I need someone to keep me from

Swallowing a bottle of pills amassed

As I kept the orange lid on

And chewed on the painted glass

You didn’t even try to stop me

From counting days off my chipped nails

And burying my reflection

Your finger is falling off the scale

I fractured my funny bone

As you dragged my ankles in the rain

Maybe I’ve had known my synthetic home

Instead all I have is a lipstick stain

My tears are a suicide silence

Of those evenings I spent swearing that I’ll

Call your paradise up in the morning

Even if it might take me a while

I’d count the salt of the earth

And turn it into sugar on your tongue

I may be out of bounds

But I wasn’t the thief who sold your sun

So say it’s all a criminal act

These handcuffs are killing my wrists

Digging into my scar tissues

As scarred as your haunting lips

The tactless tactics taken

Your elegant eloquences forsaken

Tortured clocks tick the past

It wasn’t meant to last

Another song of bruised dreams

I wanna hold your hand so fucking tight

Your bones will feel my veins scream

And my knuckles will bleed out into the night

Maybe another vodka shot

Will change things, or make it worse

As I threw a boulder on your bedroom window

To tell you I won’t be late for your hearse

It’s a screwed-up mentality

Like kissing a glock gun before I sleep

To trade tranquility for a stranger

And voluntarily fall inside his oceans deep

But just between you and me

I’m already drenched away and sickly

And there’s no place I’d rather drown myself in

Than your empty sea.

~*~

I’ll sing along, cause I don’t know any other song
I’ll sing along, but I’m barely hanging on
No, I’m barely hanging on, by the time you’re hearing this
I’ll already be gone; and now there’s nothing to do
But tear my voice apart…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

the punctured spare tyre

a crippling sensation

masticating the walls of

my sovereign heart

a pendulum beat, a second

of apologies, that a lie

could never restart

intrepid decisions reveal

mistakes skewed by

colluding increments

the truth is verbatim and

reality’s imagination

is merely dark figments

impervious to quaintness

and jubilance and

optimistic butterfly whispers

interrogations turned to

awkward interludes

with a scowling stranger

my company is not the best

as my skyward eyes

are crashing to the ground

and every sacrifice is

as palpable as a siren’s

intensifying alluring sound

for the beast is a choleric

tantrum kicking up storms

in this dizzying bruised mind

behind all this laughter

and arrogant jerk banter

there’s only doldrums you’ll find.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Fauxtographic Memory

I keep losing sleep in beds still made from soaking sheets
And I’m still haunted by the ghosts of people still breathing
I already hate the words, they’re not a thing we even share
Stop looking for a metaphor, it isn’t there…

~*~

Photographs in negative slate

Cigarette ash on his fingertips

A lock of hair on the pillowcase

Faint redolence of perfume sweet

Keys hanging on floral keychains

Abandoned stilettos by the doors

Pastel sticky notes on beige wall

Milk spoiling in the refrigerator

Dusty corner in solemn shadows

Familiar strain of a phonograph

Soft touch but a distant stranger

Faltering echoes of ghostly laugh

Red lipstick stains on sheets of silk

And aftershaves of musk and cedar

An empty closet, dirty bathroom sink

His eulogy written in crumpled paper.

~*~

Fauxtographic memory
A mind that’s still developing
I turn my back on all I see
Cause everything feels make believe
You tried to stay, I made you leave
And made the world give up on me
I can’t accept reality…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

saving strangers

and in the end

the one who cared

to take me away

from the blades

was not a friend

nor a righteous foe

but a stranger that

i have yet to know.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry