the rain will remind you of goodness; that even ass holes are allowed to feel the rain.

welcome to your lie.

now, this is the part where your heart breaks into pieces you never knew it could.
and then comes the part where someone picks it up and puts it back together.
and then you fall in love.
and then you realise, that it wasn't him, it was you.
it was you who created that image, that person, that figure.

and then you realise that all that you made up never really existed.
all your principles, your truths, your philosophies - all made up to make you feel better about yourself.
it never really did justice , but made you feel less guilty about yourself.
and here you are.
riding this carousel - over and over and over again.

made into flesh and bones, in spirit.
but made to move like the winds, waves and earth.

in case you wondered if i caught it,
yes i did.

i am true.
and i am very real.

cycles

it is not those who have eaten that need food,
nor is it those who are thirsty need water.

thus, it is those who are unloved that need love; not those who are full of it.
for those who have much, take such for granted.
for those who have little, crave even for the little.

you abuse and use and reuse, over and over again.
until there is nothing left. not even love.

i'm tired of hearing the words,
whatever happens here, stays here.
lies.
truth sets itself free.
if not now, tomorrow.
all forms of injustice is bound to set itself right.

if you've never been in love,
you've never felt what it was like to laugh and cry at the same time.

i had an epiphany

to you.
i leave an open question. for any person from any generation to question, seek, and answer for yourselves.


are you who you are, when you are in the sea of people,
or when you are found to be with only your shadow ?


who are you ?

dear rest.

i think i might have forgotten you, the way you blanket me at times of troubles. and the peace you give when i'm in most need. even in slumber, i feel not your warmth.

remind me once again, what it was like, to feel, to understand, to let go.
to be one with you. to be connected. to give myself to you.
to allow myself rest. and what a joy it was to rest.

find me. tonight. i ask.
i beg. really. i need.
i need you, my rest.
hold me in my slumber.

my inability to feel makes me stronger, faster, wiser, and better.
my strength is fueled by pain in all forms.
and with that - i grow.

i am one with pain.
i am able to numb it out.
and it makes me awesome.

in our world today, there is no such thing as privacy.

in the near future, it will be a commodity.
something expensive. something more ethical.
something worth keeping.

now you don't feel it. wait a little longer.

to be respected or to be feared ? which would you have chosen ?
if i were you, and you were me, i'd rather be feared.

you cannot control respect, you can demand, beg, earn and thrive for respect.

but fear comes easily. and how easily it is to control those who fear.

yes, i noticed that different taste in the air.
it wasn't the weather.

it was that beating in your heart.

.







yes, that's what it sounds like without you.
come back to me; i miss you so much

a man stands at a countered window.
asking the lady on the other side, can i exchange this bleeding heart for something out of joy ?

lady says to him,
not for sale.

free

there is nothing wrong with love; only people.

dear captives

i have no literature left in my bones, as none words of this to speak.
i have no ink left on this pen, nor melodies to find itself printed on a sheet.
what i have, are founding lights, and for them, i will let them dance free.
for they are the only thing which seem to be free.

let these lights dance free and blur the spaces between the trees and the sky.
let them waltz into their own rhythm. let them shine for the hopeless.

set the captives free

every flower birthed from soil must pass a stage where it meets its end and become part of the wind.
and sometimes, it must die. not for the sake of life. but for the sake of the renewal of the soil.

there's this thing about this things you call relationships.
it takes two.
but often times, you end up talking to yourself.
and within the constriction of time, you will lose yourself to it.
and without making it, you will lose every bit of yourself with it. and everything else.

there were the days you lived and dreamed and wished that you were a better person.
there are not better days than now to start living those dreams and wishes.

from one to another.

i think that between 2 people, there are times when feelings die.
and they die only for a day.
but in death, there are thoughts. bubble of life. of love. of wonder.

a dead man's wish

i know it's almost time. and i wish you had the words to say to me.
i know you do. i just wished you said it. it would make my passing a little more comfortable.
i know i don't have much time left here. and i know that i must undergo this transformation.
this passing from here to there.
let me admit it:

i am afraid.

yet, if you say words to me which i find out of bounds to speak, i will find some sort of peace with it.
tell me you love me. tell me that i'll be missed. tell me that this food will nurish me, even for a little bit.
tell me that i was good. tell me that i will make it.
tell me that i'm not dying, but will fall asleep. and wake up.
and this body will never be the same again.

if today was a fairytale.

i'm in the middle of that epic battle with the dragon.
who breathes fire upon my shield & i am kept under flames on the ground.

it is difficult to raise this sword.
but i need to raise this sword.

this is a shitty situation.

inpredictable

when you first loved him, he was everything, he could do no wrong, he was complete and made the world a different place.


and then how things change.

and now that you confess not to love him - possibly doubt you ever did even, he is everything that is shit, and all that was wrong is all that you try to remember, and the only thing you think found complete is yourself, and you find a different world a different place - without him..


the power of paradox. the power to step outside. the ability to move.
this is what makes the human heart as unpredictable as winds and waves.

this day is gone.
i will return tomorrow/./, determined, and strong.

at this point of time.

please help me understand pain and lost.
the lost of self; the ability to be one's self again.
the lost of pleasure is the hello of my pain.

this is a pain. it's a mental torture.
it's a physical inability.
psychologically, it's messing with me.

i want my shoulder back.

i remember falling in love - wanting to know your name - because all i had was a face.
and then i knew your name - wanting to know what it meant - because i was looking for the correlations.

and when i found those correlations - i made this assumption - because i was afraid you didn't like me as much as i did for you.


and how i was wrong - and how you liked me -

now, let me tell you my name .

angels of my window

tonight,
i will sleep on my heart.
and it will be hard to breathe.

i need your air in my lungs then.
put me on my other side.
and lay with me.
i want your eyes to be the last window i enter before i close mine.
i want you.

life for rent.

when you have more questions transacted
and less time to look,

you've found yourself at a place of discontent.

let's fly.
it's time.

today,

i refuse to be anyone you know.
to be associated with anyone. or anything for that matter.
today, it is ground zero.
today, it is called empty. and i'm fine with it.

now, i am hollow.
call me void. tell me nothing.
i want to be nothing - not even a pre-conceived idea.
i want to be silent
to be still.
to be static.


leave me alone.

thank you.

phear

there are two kinda of fear: one which we create in our own heads
and the other which strikes us within our hearts.

for both these fears, real or not, you hold the pen in your hand to write or even possibly re-write these fears.

for us.

in the end, it will all not matter. it will stop mattering in fact.

because in the end, there will be no end.
only re-birth

it's amazing how we are prone to make mistakes.
and how we make mistakes. we live by them everyday. and we live through them.

and in this mistakes, often times, can give birth to something beautiful.
and wonderful. and mysterious.

i invite you to embrace your mistakes; but let it not embrace you.

to you broken heart, i say cease.
let winter take you away into the cold.

and let your face shine in the cold sunshine - to whatever that's left of it.
let me seek your warmth
and that embrace that i may find something that of summer.
something that reminds me of that lake in spring.
and those leaves in autumn.
but here you are winter.
and i will seek. i will seek.

you will be

hold me now

if you don't have a decade, you have these years, if not, these months,
these days will let you see clearly, and these hours are close, these minutes are yours as these seconds are mine.

let every moment count between you and i.
we are growing old. we are fading fast.
nothing on earth is built to last.

i started a joke.

if you're happy and you know it,
go outside.

i remember Foucalt speaking of power being fluid; everchanging and taking new shapes - distributed from one entity or force to another.

in human relations, it is so.
and it becomes like one single arrangement of events which concretes such power.
to take affect.
and affect is what we want to see take place; then we know power has taken shape.

and in that fluidity, has it moved from one name to another ?
and can it possibly come back to the same name we once new before ?

i think you still think of it. of me. of things.
i still think you wonder about that name.
of that power.

this rest.

let's end this now.
and shut this down. right now.

end.

there hasn't been a solid title since.

maybe cause i'm far away.
lazy. tired.
there hasn't been anything good.
it's just a routine.
it's just shit. it's that dip.
it's deep.

i love how i'm the only one that knows me.
how i can run here and no one can and will catch me.
here's to you all.

i'm that damn good. and nobody knows.
and nobody reads.
and nobody will.

here iam

i think i'm one ass funny jack ass when i'm mad, frustrated and stressed out.
it translates into one form of shit to another

you me and everyone are all the same.
predictable.
accountable.
same.
deep down.
same.
same
same.
same.

that's why you hurt the same way.
you breathe the same way.
and have the same problems.

it is for this we carry different shadows. t the places we walk. to the words we say. to the things we do.

for this shadow, it will never suffice.
you will always be a shadow.

i love how it eats you from the inside out.
chews and spits you out.

and all that's left is skin, flesh and bones.
all that's left.

secretly hiding.

i cannot remember the last time my heart broke when i was with you.
you're that good.

you're the god of all that breaks deep.
inside your mind. dwelling in this heart.

you're the sin deep cuts slim within sheets.
taking this into me and making me think of dirty.


i want you out.

forever and always,
there will be hope in your chaos.

in your death, life.
in your sorrow, joy.
in your loneliness, people.


just give the shit a little time.

we are funny and strange creatures.

in absence: we desire, we regret, we seek, we think, we contemplate, we conjure, we force, we break, we cry, we find.


it is true, when we lost what we have and when all that we have before us is taken away, we see it in a different set of eyes, as if light has touched our eyes once again.


hallelujah.

this truth

i like how nothing is built to last.
i love how it's all so fragile.
i like how it cost you something. something out of yourself.
i love how it will destroy you.
i love how you can afford to treat it like trash.
i love how you can disregard it.
i love how it makes and stirs your heart to wonder.
and shatters you into so many pieces.

i love how it's not called forever.

i love how all this is truth about love.

if it is what it is and all that it is not, you will do everything in your power to ensure truth like these will not prevail in your life.
how delicate these days are and how these moments transcend your very being.
how you must nurture it. and the moment you take it for granted, truth prevails and you know where you are. where you stand. alone.

we are all existent in multiple parallel dimensions.
whether you like to believe it or not.

it's about time you crossed over to this one.
i'm sure it's more fun.

hello emil.y

the greatest thing about heartbreak is that it's as real as falling in love.

it unblinds you.
it makes you strong.
it makes you, you again.

pop

what do you know about preconceived conceptions [ ? ]

except that they make the world predictable and boring; only to those who can understand and see.



what have you thought about today ?

caught

if you are lost, i will find you.
keep knocking.

the river.

i like the waters. this river.
i like the rain. and the way they both meet.

they both agree on being powerful together.
they both agree to sweep things away in its path.
they both agree to rise above and beyond themselves.
to be strong. to move.

i, for one, in body. want to be swept away by this agreement.
and i want to be found at the end of this river.

if i were a bird, i would understand my freedom between the sea of clouds.

and being that i am man, i can only understand freedom by the ability of being myself in the sea of people.

bloom

the only truth in fiction are the characters you make outside the pages.
the narrative is but a string of events which become parallel to the world we both know; that's why it's written.

but, did you not know, this narrative was written well before you opened the very first page ?
and the way it ends, is the way it ends would be the exact way it began.

a beautiful lie.

circles.

some of you make promises you can't even keep.
some of us lie with the impression that it will make us feel better.

some of them act as if they know better; when it's all fallacies to begin with.


who does that make me, in relation to you ?
and what breaks them between us ?

i'm sorry.

i'm sorry, but everything about your life is a lie.
every move, every lesson, every inch.

it's all a lie until you put in some truth in it.
your life is a lie until you find some truth in it.

pretty little things.

everyone can fake a smile in these pictures.
neither you nor i can the differences apart within the frame.

so, i'm looking outside this pictured frame.
i'm looking at your fingertips, the curve of your lips, the breaking if your smile.
the little things that break your heart.

cruel to be kind.

i dare you to cover me with lies. shrouded , clouded, painful.

and i will slap you with truth. painful, clear, and uplifting.

4

and on this wooden crafted table laid 4 books.
texts, words, binded and bounded by pages and pages on things concerning mankind.

these books, had within itself, truth of its own - words transcending history; stories of stories.
some of them, more profound than others.


and within all of these books, they each taught and preached love.
they reminded you as you read, of forgiveness. of hope. of overcoming.


yet, readers of all these four books argued between themselves
over who was more righteous than the other.


the irony.