i think i have knowned you from another time, another place, a different space.
where light bent for a singular moment within the laws of physics and allowed me to be beyond the realm of both our understandings.


i saw this light in you

there's a way to smell a slut from a whore.
and that's using your brains.

and they aren't always female too.

be my buried treasure, beloved & i will show you treasures of our own.

let an ear hear

i'd prefer the water to run deep.
deeper than this soul can catch - to catch on fire.
i want the water to run still.
still as a candle on a wire.

for that is the only image of peace the mind can breathe.
to breathe is the rhythm of life. and life in motion is a life worth the notion.
and i want this breath to cover this ocean. i want this vapour to be a part of this great ocean.

as i soon lay my body to ashes rest, there are places where my heart must go.
there are places to where this mind must seek ease. as yet, chains and torment you have to show.


alas, i am but a written text. who will know for sure the deep connections between words and flesh ? none. i swear. by none.
i could be an impostor. a fake. a shadow. a doubt.


right as of now, i am merely text.

we're all predecessors of some kind of substituted idea.
it's a sad story really.
if only you could see.

i'm doing this on my own. neither the blue nor the red pill

after an hour

i had better write this idea down before i chow down this tuna subway; i reckon that subways are the best loner lunch meals today. there's just so much in it, you have to stop and wonder.


as it is written:
i want love to be more than just a rhetoric set of words. to be more than just this expression we have found in our television screens - it has been perverted and homogenised. it has become a commodity for sale and trade at the expense of us. more than just a verb, more than a notion, it has to be a movement; a spirit embedded. it has to live and breathe. it has to be fluid and organic. it cannot be structured and contained.

by this, i want love to also exist in silence. i want it to prevail beyond all conscious though, because our consciousness is constructed by experiences outside of us. there is nothing new, nothing fresh within our souls anymore - everything is constructed outside of us; for consumption and we become mere reflections of that; even in the idea of love.

love doesn't need to be properly thought of: the flowers, the gifts and material things - sometimes, even the words we speak are all material. they have their effects today, but are all soon forgotten tomorrow. we must treat love like treasures in heaven: where all is built to last.

for its nemesis, love has to rise above not only by the hateful, but even through the lukewarm. for it is the lukewarm hearts that don't feel. that there is nothing. hate is inevitable; love must conquer it. if not, the power which exists in love is merely just a word.

<3>
i think we can classify all the things which make to what isn't love, but find it hard to see what it really is. for we all love differently. we are subjects of our own love. our own interpretation. and our own representation. there is nothing definite. nothing theoretical.


i am struggling with these thoughts.

this is aes

i don't understand it, but love has got to be bigger than this feeling.
a drive, an impulse, an idea, a song, an act, an emotion.
it has got to be bigger than this.

it has to overcome all previous ideas, notions and settings.

esx

it leaves me in wonder to what you'd taste like in my mouth.

tonight

i miss those good morning messages,
the ones i'd get while i'm still in bed.
before even sunrise touches the sky.
i had this superstitious belief, that it would get me through my day.
what silly beliefs, silly little boy. but what comfort there is we lay in the silly little things.

miche

foucalt predicted as such; a design which was merely constructed.
what does such interpretation do to become representation ?

or was he proven right about the ideas of power.
fluid. transferable.
tonight, it was not in my hands.

how true he was in speaking about such a discourse.
how such self-righteous deeds and thoughts are mere rags for self in-dwelling.
foucalt questioned himself in relevance to society. he stood outside of it.
i think we all must stand outside once in awhile to see the filth and flaws in the system.
and the system is very wrong indeed.

the colour of white

and in this light, you will see everything
and then you will decide for yourself,

if this is the life worth living and dreaming for.

milk.

you find yourself running away from yourself.
and then you eventually find that have no place to go.

highlanders

we are all wanderers.
in our minds, hearts and eyes.
in our faith, in our beliefs, in our love.

we are never static. and we can never be pure.
for we are always moving.
we are all wanderers.

hi.

dirty second hands

you blame the devil for all the bullshit that you do .

yet, your hands are those which are stained; who has the last laugh now ?


are we that ignorant ?

passing you by

the mind is a beautiful, strange, wonderful and dangerous place.

where else in the world can you have perverse acts with someone who you don't even know and have just crossed between streets while not letting anyone know about it ?


i suppose the danger of the mind is to allow it to be the sanctuary of heaven or allow it to be the dungeon of all your thoughts.

Hello Monday.

It felt like you'd left your socks at the kitchen table and couldn't find the other pair.
and as you walked out the door, you stubbed your toe.

and the car wouldn't start the way you thought it would.
and then the storm. the rain. the traffic jams.

hello monday. we don't really like each other.
but you're here for a purpose. you make us appreciate the other days, and its passing so much more.

and how we all love to make love on you, Friday.

love is like a madman with bipolar disorder.

metaphorically literal.

if i were deemed blind and my fingers were my eyes - to read, to sense, and to understand.

i want to see deep inside of you.

endlessly.

i'm depending on your soul as my atmosphere tonight.

sell my sex

if we're going to continue to sell sex everywhere, we're not going to have enough of it for ourselves.
with each other.

the unanswered.

the wonders of this world are held in questions unanswered.
and the wonders are lost when we stop questioning and become lazy and start fitting shitty answers to them.

question everything and stop making assumptions.

we all fight to win.
i'm fighting to stay till the last round.
and i don't want anyone to throw in the white towel.

i want to fight even with a gashed eye.
i will take the beatings - as much as i don't like it.
but i will not let you take me down to the floor.

this little rambling. excuse the jargon.

going back into time, thinking about it at a traffic light, i question myself:
who was the biggest fool ?

me - who kept by you, waiting months on end on this screen through tears, fears and complications, for those little things, for those big things, for those wake up calls, for those left behinds, for those goodbyes. for those philandering nights, those drunk parties. those waking ups ?

or you - being selfish; thinking you could lie months on end, through this screen, left me hanging. thinking you could have had it all.


i'm sorry i have to come back to this, but the more i think about, the more i choose not to be a part of the system. it was always easier alone; why'd you have to drag me along ?

in the end, i suppose the writer was the bigger fool. look at me now and this text.
life is such. such is life. and here we are in all of its strife.


PEACE OUT!

maybe i shouldn't be so weakened by this poison.
and probably go back to me.

maybe, perhaps, possibly.

Where are you ?

the wishing tree

under all that skin and make up,
it's so easy to sculpt a beautiful lie.

i don't want to speak to your lips.
let me talk to your heart please.

often times, we think that they're the same.

do you know the difference between a hug from a hug,
a hand shake from a hand shake,
a kiss from a kiss,
a touch from a touch ?


it's just that extra few seconds and little tighter grasps of each.

maketh haste

let's try and love a little more, day by day.
for time's running short.

i don't want to waste this opportunity with you right now.
let's not make waste this day.

did you read and catch the signs ?
or were you ignorant and complacent in the blind ?

guard your heart from the things you know.
for they will allow you more fear - truth be told.

something more/

i think i wanted something different in this lifetime than today.

but i think one must understand many things before he can accept many things.

but, you have to wonder, will this lifetime be enough to explore the uncharted ?

too often, too many get caught up with the idea of living, when they don't really live at all.
cause too often, we're made to believe that we're in this state of contempt - this state of satisfaction.

i'll look back at this one day, and wonder, did i make it outside ?

it's true.
i'm not as dashing as edward cullen; who needs to sparkle in the day's sunlight.
nor am i as beautiful as jacob black; who turns into a dog when he gets angry.

but i'm that ghost between the pillows and sheets,
hidden in your thoughts and burrows inside your heart.
and come soon, time, will allow me to grow flesh
and lips.

and then, do what you do best

trains busses and feet.

some of us live by the principles of just 'getting by'
but you were always meant to live and get there.


i am looking for a destination without a need for this passport.
God, open these windows.

i want to travel your world.

put your picture on my wall

what if we people were designed to live each new day anew ?
as if yesterday didn't exist as we entered today ?

and this was the norm.
it will take years for at least one man to fully understand the great degree of our yesterdays and patience for tomorrow.

let these hearts heal

have you yet to see the soldiers that fight with you on your wars ?
they are closer than brothers and will nurture you like mothers.

yet, you are your own man.
and you defeat the enemy by means of force.



let's lay down these arms.
put away our shields.
hold my hand and teach me peace.
the kind that comes from above and the one which works from within.

as we

slap me with a dose of reality when i'm lost in my nature and you will find these words a cure for your cancer.

everlasting,

sigh

i'm dying here.

educate me

what will love mean to you when there are no lips to utter such ?
when there will be no hands to show ?

when there will be no words to speak of ?

what and where then will your love be ?

fdasfsdf asdfasdfasdf as

there are points in times of days that you wished that it wasn't really today, but probably an epoch of somewhere before between this, and hopefully somewhere after.


i hate it when you disappear

Dear God,

i want to hear the sound of my own voice

it's when you're left alone that you can understand , breathe and live the words, alone.
and then, you decide, you don't really want to be in this place right now

nicely said nicely done

i find this day come to a close
and yet i still found myself lost in your letters.

the very fine words - between each letter - i find glaring at me ; lights.

and sweet melancholy and angels sing.

between these words, like letters of fine print paper,
i have found my reason for being with you.

tomorrow brings me closer to you

let's call it business.

everyone is irreplaceable , it's just a matter of decision making.

walking on a bridge

the more we know and learn, the less we know.
we are thought to learn and absorb information.

yet we never really question the validity and source of such.
we learn lifestyles, prejudices.
we learn how to react, we learn how to decide.

in all this learning, it's really a term coined: being told.

we are being told how to live our lives. how to react. how to decide.

we are therefore, not really learning. but reflecting.
we are reflecting the things around us.
which makes us merely; nothing.


let's try and be something.
stop 'learning'. stop being 'told to'.



we don't really have the term for it now,
but let's just start something.

hello good morning how you do

these are the sexiest mornings found in the most furthest of places.
as if your skin grazed mine as you got out of bed.

almost like you looked at me as you made your way out.

breathing to a whisper in the most intimate of spaces.


hello, goodmorning, have a nice day

hmmm

i knew somehow, someway, inside. deep. secretly. hidden.
i was somehow, someway. inside. somewhat.
in love with you, while you were still in love with him.

Dear Vee Vien

Dear Vee Vien

This ocean cries out your name

with a message in a bottle

if you open up

you will find words that read

Happy Birthday

Dear Vee Vien

How we miss you so

Like a friend, a mother to a daughter and a lover

How we miss you so




it's the way simplicity works between you and i
and in between all the hard work and passion

i cannot simply express it more simply how it has been such a joy to have met you,
to have shared life with you thus far.
and today, i celebrate and give thanks unto this day.

happy birthday, Veev.
with love

hope you like the gifts.

2.36

i think i remember those crazy nights and awesome days with you.

it was our summer.

and i refuse to keep it to that season alone.

there are so many more seasons.

and for that, i have so many more reasons.

to be with you.

breathe

hi, we're the planets looking for a place to call home.
we're the wonders of the places unknown.
the life forms of all that you've been looking up into the sky.

we're the people at your doorstep, waiting to come inside.

fit this

your body's like a puzzle that in due time, all the pieces will fit perfectly into mine.

understatements

you can fake a smile, but you can never fake happiness.
so why lie to yourself ?
let's come clean.

let me treat you to a smile, and maybe then, you will find some kind of happiness.

this is my loneliness.

the way the machines around you hover, the fan above, the lights by the side and television below. they make a noise too familiar yet they taunt you because they were the ones who shouldn't speak.

and the silence which speaks suddenly screams into your eyes. and then sits in your mind. forcing you to go back into that space happiest for you. into that moment where you felt that even when silence was great, because silence with you actually meant something.

but when you are given the chance to listen to your own heartbeat, you can only hear one.
and then you miss the other.
you miss the little sounds your ears pick up. the cough, the sniffle, the rustling of hair. the snicker. the little things.


my silence is a shout into my head, my mind. and a spear into my heart. it has robbed me of joy. and it has only offered me loneliness.

for at many times, there is none who can compare.

problems in life

something worst than getting erectile dysfunction is not being able to find the right haircut for yourself.

gib

faith leaps hope into bounds of love abound, once again.
taken back into saving grace and tokens of care, like no other.

you and me

secret.

i think i found you in my eyes.

the tale of 4

i remember as the bus rolled in after those grueling few months.
it was finally time. it was here. it was now.

i remembered from across this hall. where eyes would find itself connected - in deep coy and play.
without the ability to extract words, these eyes were the only thing which could find its way to communicate.

and was it that you were lonely ? was it that you were smiling ?

i remembered those were the days. shy as it was. so innocent. so kept. so pure.


and now,
i remember. the day the bus pulled in and as i smiled at you on the way back.
you found that window seat which made the sun glaze upon that mirror frame.
you said we'd never cry. how i remembered i promised the same.

and i took that long great look at you and realised how possibly, i will never see you again.
and i broke that promise of those tears.

i didn't love you. but i was glad that you were there.
you returned to your lover. as i had to wait for mine for years.

can a mean learn how to speak if he doesn't talk ?
or can he learn how to feel, if he doesn't have a heart ?

this airport.

this life's like a series of arrivals and departures.
the airport of your life.
have you checked in your luggage yet ?
got your passports ?

time to go.


so, where are you in the world today?

these doubts in my mind

i'm looking for a new sky to call home.
a new mind - refreshed, pure and new.
in search of the things i used to know.
humbled by this morning dew.


i don't want to crash and burn
but to live it out and learn


take me there. lead me by the hands
take me there. i'll learn to breathe again.
take me there. i'm opening up these eyes again.
take me there. you promised to never let me go.



don't lead me unto false hopes.

sounds

it's funny how there's so many people around, yet nobody here.

if silence was a sound, it's something speaking to you.
unpleasant and deafening.

how i hate you.

jon, you sing about the love which i don't really understand right now.

hello phear.
i'd rather not meet you.
go away please

par

you look at me and think of him,
yet when you're with him, you think of me.


the paradox and complications break you.

frankly speaking 2

women are the object of men's desire
and what an empowering tool to be desired.

and what a power for abuse.


damned is such a man.

i think if it were just me in this picture, i'd end up drowning in the ocean.

i miss you. don't go anywhere

and there he was, longing for you.
with one last cigarette in his hand, he began to converse with heaven.
and made conversation with purple clouds.
as the lights flickered ; he asked for rain.
to feel.
to embrace a feeling longed and almost lost.
the sensation on his skin. a refresh.
a touch. a conversation. a meaning. something.

alas, but no rain, as he tried to burn up the smoke which hovered.
yet, in his solitude. there, for the first time, he encountered no peace.
but wonder. but questions. but to no avail, all had failed him.

he brings himself back to more wonder: where had everyone gone to ?
where'd he find himself back unto this silence.
and as he understands the bane of running in a circle, he found the purple sky, his friend and his foe at the same time.

and as he struggles with the battle of the gorges within himself.
he suffers in silence to those without a questionable ear.
he is but a shadow that walks by day, and almost nothing consumed by night.
what a complaint. what a pathetic state. what a pandemic.

how true he is to his own thoughts, yet unto his actions. deeds. he is unable to perform.
where does he stand in such a circumstance ? how would this blunt arrow pierce into such a wound.

and thus, death surrounds him. of which travels by far and stricken him.
what life this is. to be occupied by such fiends.
tonight, i will say fuck it.


tomorrow's a new day.

cartoons

sometimes, you have to go through hell to get to heaven.

you can't toss your hope on everyone, everytime.
people just can't cut it sometimes.
and that's life.

fatal attractions

all it takes is one glimpse, one idea, one presumption, one action, one mistake.

and then your whole world comes crashing down on you.

10 minutes pleasure, a lifetime pain

underneath

instead of having to point out all these wrongs,
let's find a way to fix them with a couple of figure out rights.