Stray Arrows

Romeo, please don’t be a fool

Pyramus, now a crimson pool

Relinquish them from love so cruel

The Fates do snicker with their spool

But who am I to lash and say

That those who love have gone astray

Although my world is dull and grey

To find someone is what I pray

They tell me not to search for it

The sands of time fall bit by bit

But soon I do need to commit

If love’s a crime, they scream, “acquit.”

Dare you to break my walled-up fears

Dare you to dry my dried up tears

Dare me to open up mine ears

Dare me to stay for months to years

Sure as truth hides beneath the lies

I’ll find a way before time flies

Sure as the dawn brings the sunrise

I’ll find a way into your eyes

A king you’re not, nor I a knight

I’m but a drunk who thought to write

But you’re a sight that feels so right

What once was black has now turned white

For now I lay me down to sleep,

With shallow streams and seas too deep.

As I go down a path so steep,

I pray to you my heart to keep

Nightcry

He looked like he was right as rain

And I, caught up in mortal stain

A string of words aired out in vain,

None to lose, everything to gain

He beckoned with those glinting eyes,

From chrysalides come butterflies

Nether hands and careless sighs,

His salvation, my demise

From blackened orbs do lights fluoresce

Flesh of mine he did caress

Adonis shamed, he did undress

Nothing to do but acquiesce

Spear of Flames, oh hear me sing

Elysium unbound, to you I cling

Honey is sweet, but bees do sting

Slumber I need, but alarms do ring

Between a hill and its twin,

A restless beast lies deep within,

Insatiable at the sight of skin,

I lick my lip; it tastes like sin

Jack and Dill went up the hill

With one duty they must fulfill

Now they feel a mighty thrill

As the pail had its final fill

Streaks of white fall down like snow,

As all the pulses ebb and flow.

The world around all seem to slow,

As ecstacy turns back to woe.

Onomatopoeias

Listen to the sound of the pouring rain

The world awash, but who’s to blame?

Every pitter, every patter

Every rhythm for that matter,

Was cast from above

And swept down like an exiled dove

Listen to the chorus of the crying wind

It shrieks and howls as though it has sinned

Every hiss, every billow

Every gust through my window

Has no place to call home

Marked like Cain,

And forced to roam

Listen to the clatter of almighty thunder

Its wrath tears the skies asunder

Every clap, every boom

Every tremor of impending doom

Is a delayed jeer,

Proud albeit stuck

From the lightning that never struck

Listen to the beat of your own heart

You’re alive and here,

And that’s a start

Cherish every lub, every dub

Life’s a lion and we’re its cubs

Under the eye from which nature sees

We’re finite creatures

Seeking peace

The Nether Denizens of My Mind

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As I walked down the rough uneven sidewalk, hell started to make a home for itself in the recesses of my mind. I didn’t mind, that’s what I told myself. Lately, hell’s visits have become more frequent, more imperative, more demanding to the point where I constantly remind myself to prepare a plush cushion for him to recline on as I make myself accustomed to his presence, swallowing him like the last drops of champagne during a cold, lonely night.

We sat across each other, hell and I, and the next thing I know, his eyes were on mine, and mine on his, locked in a mutual leer. We clashed, but we barely moved. Every inhalation was an invisible parry, every exhalation was a deft counterstrike. We sat for hours on end, but ultimately, my mind has a breaking point while his had none. I raised my white flag, just like every other battle we had prior to this. I didn’t fight to win; that never happens. I fought with every intention to survive; but one can only fight for so long until the body seeks compromise for the soul’s unrest.

It wasn’t the first time I fought my demons; it wasn’t the last time my hollow heart shook from the irrational whispers of my mind; it wasn’t going to be the last time I’d feel like everyone’s out to get me, hurt me; it wasn’t the first time my trust issues had gotten the best of me; it wasn’t the first time I entertained them with the enthusiasm and reluctance of a virgin attempting intercourse for the first time. They preyed on me like a parasite, and I was the ever-wiling host.

“Thanks for tonight, babe,” he said as he kissed my lips.

What does it mean? My mind nagged.

Suddenly the picture of us kissing was altered ever so slightly, it painted another picture of him still locked in a kiss, but with someone other than me.

Was it a parting kiss? A Judas Kiss? A sign of impending betrayal?

The cacophony in my mind was so loud, I never noticed his lips leave mine. I gave him a plaintive smile and a languid kiss on his cheek and forehead like I usually do.

“Take care, okay?” The words left my mouth so plainly, the deeper meaning I had intended was obscured by the relative nonchalance of my choice of words; words that upon translation screamed: “Take care of yourself, please don’t cheat on me. Don’t screw anyone else while I’m outside that door. I’ve given you more trust than I usually do. Don’t break it. Please. Don’t play with my feelings, don’t make me feel insufficient, don’t hurt me. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

To him, “take care” may be a parting statement; for me it meant something close to a plea that never left the barriers of my lips.

He hugged me and we parted. “Thanks for being there for me,” he said. “Don’t mention it,” I smiled. “I’m here for you.”

But will you end up abusing my good intentions? Are you gonna take me for granted knowing I’ll always be there for you? Are you gonna mess around since my loyalty is never in question?

My mind continued to nag, regurgitating thoughts that remained to be thoughts since I had no intention of bestowing life to them in the form of haphazard speech or anything relatively close to that.

We released each other from the hug and with one final look, I walked away, and hell was only very eager to keep up his pace with mine. I was greeted with repulsive thoughts, thoughts involving him wrapped around somebody else’s arms, caught in somebody else’s lips, entangled around somebody else’s body.

With every step, gravity steadily weighed me down, emphasizing the weight of my mind bearing down on my soul, outlining in black the sweetness of my singularity, highlighting the climax of my personal calamity. I sauntered on, praying for daylight to come and chase the demons away. Perhaps only then shall I find peace in my everyday unrest.

I know I’m not supposed to tame my demons, but this isn’t exactly keeping them on a leash either.

Regression

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“You could hurt me,” I said, after our lips parted, slightly trembling at the weight those words bore.

He smiled. “And you could hurt me,” he said, more composed than I am. “That’s a given, but that’s what it’s all about.”

That struck me. I’d almost forgotten the truth of which he spoke. It’s been a while since I’ve given it any relevance; the idea of entertaining the possibility of being hurt was almost foreign to me. I vaguely remember the last time, how it felt, and how it meant. As I held him close in my arms and planted a kiss on his forehead, the only thing I was able to fixate on is to make it last, to not lose him. Every other thought was irrelevant, and I knew that it meant something. Trivial emotions are almost an afterthought for me, but somehow, this was hardly anything but trivial.

It was happening again. A year of suppression, a year of denial, a year of fruitless attempts at starting over, a year of hoping and dreading the idea of feeling something genuine again – a year of all that, and now that the answer which came in the form of this beautiful, timeless man, I didn’t know how to respond. I could only tremble in horrified anticipation. The walls I’ve built around my heart were forged with diamonds and platinum, made to compensate for the fragility of my naked heart. And yet, they shattered from the lightest of his touches, and now, the naked heart beats, exposed to the elements, and he was the Avatar.

Now, the only thing I could do was stare at his pretty, pretty face and think to myself, “Brace yourself, this one’s going to hurt. This one’s bound to hurt.” Even with that thought, the martyr in me conceded. The thought that this is possibly the closest thing to something real, cancels out every precalculated risk. Once upon a time, we talked about being the other’s reset button. I guess I pushed mine too hard and ended up with more that I had ever hoped for.

“Good night,” I said, smiling as his half-lidded eyes were struggling to stay open.

“Good night,” he echoed, and at once, his arms that were wrapped around me drew me closer to him.

I sighed and played with his hair, lost in thought – too lost, that I never heard the next statement leave my lips:

“I don’t wanna fall.”

He gave a sleepy smile.

“We can fall together,” he said, before he fell asleep.

Of Meteors And Men

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The clatter of utensils over here, the smoky aroma of coffee over there, the occasional chaos of the traffic in the distance – yes, such was the humdrum flow of my mundane life. The cacophony was constant, but I’ve grown used to it. The familiarity of it all can be likened to the buzz of a million fireflies if I weren’t a city boy. But I was, and the urban scene was my meadow, skyscrapers were my apple trees, and like a lone shepherd, I keep watch over these everyday scenes, for they were home. I thrived, and I stayed on my own.

Being alone is peaceful, there’s no other way to put it. It’s the only time I am able to reach out deep within, rekindle flames in places only I could touch. It’s the only time I feel grounded, like a root piercing and proliferating throughout the subterranean soil. Gravity bound me to the surface, and I stand as my own person. Being alone is peaceful, and I’ve spent enough time to know that this is true.

But then he came like a meteor that bypassed the atmosphere and evolved into a meteorite. He crossed the sky in streaks of red and yellow, impossible to miss, radiating a vibrant glow. Like a moth to a flame, my eyes were fixated, and when his own pools of brown poured over to my ebony caverns, it was decided; I became the crater.

The meteorite was fascinating. The twinkle on his eyes was a galaxy, the sound of his voice carried on for lightyears, the tremor of his laugh had the intensity of sunbeams, the whites on his teeth rivalled that of Halley’s. He spoke of stories about the cosmos that fascinated the native I am, he told tales of other people that awed even the misanthropist that I was. When his hand finally enclosed in mine, rock to a crater, contact was made. Maybe we aren’t as alone as we think after all.

Being with him was peaceful. There was no other way to put it. It’s the only time when my reach extended from my appendages, and collaborated with another’s soul, igniting flames in places I never knew existed. It’s the only time I feel suspended, shot up in flames from my terrestrial spire – yielding, ultimately free. Being with him is peaceful, and I intend to allow time to take its toll and prove if this stands true.

Après moi, le déluge

Hiraeth and Saudade

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