Monthly Archives: February 2017


The sun sets, and twilight appears, heralding the ascendancy of night.

That is what you are to me. Shadow of my heart: neither light nor dark, but a part of and apart from both. You are the grey, the ghost that haunts the sub-rosa world of my mind. You are that phantom that I can almost see in the corners of my eyes as I turn.

As darkness falls, I see that I am truly possessed.

You rule my memories, pulling me into the past. I can still feel the pain in the scars your touches and bites gave me. I must confess that despite myself, I relish it. Reality and fantasies blur in the wounds you inflicted, and I’ve been swept away, like flotsam in a maelstrom of love and hate for you.

There is a tai-fung behind my smile.

I have been devoured by you.

And then discarded. I sought an escape in sleep, but even that was denied me. My dreams have been your playground, and you are a terrible child, my darling. One would think that you’d discard a toy after you have broken it……

And so, I must exorcise you.

You pierce the fabric that separates my mind and body, connected to me through that part of me that I left behind with you, as if you have a voodoo doll. You are therefore at the back of my mind, like an alter-ego, or a manifestation of my sins, Your presence is a possible penance, and I will not lose, to myself or you.

Then I will be free.

Birds with broken wings can and will still fly again. This hurricane I’m in is but a thermal updraft, and I am a phoenix. Stay in the past, demon-goddess, where you can be forgotten in the back of my mind.

Inspired by DVSN’s “Hallucinations”.



Loneliness comes in waves.

How do I reach out to you, when I walked knowingly into this ocean of suffering? I’m drowning, like a water sacrifice to the altar of others’ happiness. Funny; they never asked me to do so, but they had better appreciate it.

Loneliness comes in waves.

The tide has dragged me too far. Is it too late to be rescued? The ripple I started in the shore of my recent past is quickly turning into a tsunami. I want to go back. What do I need to do to stay afloat? There are no mermaids here; only sharks.

Loneliness comes in waves.

There is a storm coming. I’m scared of drowning. I’m also scared of swimming back to shore. Still, even I can tell that indecision will kill me. I cannot keep suffering in silence, alone, even when surrounded by other people. I want to be understood, to be accepted as I am, on your dry earth. Nothing is stable, not earth, not water, but I am tired of water.

Loneliness comes in waves. Please, bring be back to the shore.

Inspired by Jon Bellion’s “Loneliness comes in waves”

He’s awesome!

Fire & Desire

Can you see it?

Who thought that the flame you carried within you would burn me? You torched my icy heart to powder. I am nothing but ashes, sand in the desert that is your life.

This is our song of ice and fire.

This is our snow. This is our dragon. We both will never give in. We want it all….even at the very cost of ourselves. That in itself is the  point. We get it, and it is our undoing. We consume ourselves while simultaneously, and unhealthily, give ourselves life. We are the snow dragon of Russia.

Poisoned Ouroboros.

There is no god out of this machine, as the god you call love died eons ago. What burns so brightly, defiantly, sadly, is an echo, a reminder of what could be, but will never be attained. We have gone too far, giving up the very thing we sought at the beginning.

Lightning strikes the Kalahari where my heart resides; I dream of rain.

And what i see is a sun goddess. Amaterasu. I am of the night, my darling. I must look away. Yet, you force my eyes open, to behold you in your blazing glory. Do you not know that the world will burn in eternal flames without the cool of darkness to offset it?

Let me go.

*Inspired by listening to Drake’s “Fire & Desire”

The Beginning: Know Pain

To you who may or may not see this,

I won’t try to dictate how to feel if you do see this.

This is for and about me; it has nothing to do with you.

Therefore, how you handle it is entirely up to you.

Who doesn’t know the cold familiarity of melancholy?

And yet, crave the warm balm that comes from sympathy.

But to avoid the addiction to the drug that is self-pity,

I will ease my pain through soliloquy.

It has been an age since my art,

Has been born of a broken heart.

Witness the damage I bear from being torn apart,

And join me in my healing; this is another restart.


I am trouble.

You tell me that you need to run away from me, even as you walk towards me. All I do is smile like I’m the Mona Lisa. I look forward to seeing what you will do.

I am a problem.

You tell me that I’m bad for your health, as you rub my beard. I like it, but will not tell you to continue or not. This is your show; direct this play as you deem fit.

I am dangerous.

You’re confused, swinging on a mental pendulum between safety and lust, common sense and hubris, contentment and greed. Do you dare? I must confess that I enjoy watching you exchange your clothes for risks.

But I will not be to blame.

I am simply a tool that you will use and discard. Don’t hurt yourself.


It’s failing

Our tree is dying, both from neglect and overfeeding. We water it with acid rain from all our venomous arguments, poisoning it and ourselves. We fight all the time, tearing its roots out from what was supposedly good earth. Our foundation is not as solid as we thought. Our plans, hopes and dreams that was the sunlight that fed its leaves have been eclipsed by all the hurt, disappointments and apathy between us.

Where did we go wrong?

Our sapling did grow…. In the blink of an eye, it went from being a fragile shoot to an evergreen. Tall….. strong. Did its strength and security make us relax? Did we get too comfortable in our routine? Were we not a compatible graft? Did we not weed the fears and doubt out? Did we see our manicured garden, and forget that weeds can and will always grow, and choke our tree like poison ivy? When there was no common enemy to keep us united, did that make us turn upon each other, bending branches until they broke?

Our flower once bore a fruit of many flavours. Now, why does it feel like we are simply two flowers sharing one stem?

Time flies, along with our mutual patience. We sacrificed everything upon the altar of the idea that things will figure themselves out. The love between us was supposed to be strong enough to sustain us, to protect us from anything. We forgot how fragile that love can be. We forgot how hard we worked to tend our sapling. We forgot how far we went to protect it. It still needs protecting from life’s tempests. So I wonder: where are the windbreakers?

Seasons change; we are experiencing a new climate. Erosion threatens the very earth our tree is planted on. Will we save our tree, or let it die?

We need to decide, or everything else will decide for us.

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