Saturday, March 18, 2017

If only eternal sunshine of the spotless mind was for real
I’d erase every little moment I had with you
Every word you said, every song you played me
Every laughter we shared, every time you broke me
In a matter of a few years I’ll surely have a body you never touched
But what do I do… about this mind…
This mind that can’t pick between loving you or hating you
This mind that wanted you to be a good memory
This mind that now calls you a regret

Saturday, September 10, 2016

I am drifting far, away from your orbit. Into the outer space. I do not know where I am headed. Will it be a galaxy many light years away or a black hole that will consume my being? Will I collide with a meteor and shower onto a new world, and then spin madly with it? Will I find another star that will awaken life on me? Will I be attracted to another gravity?
So many big bangs gone, I am still a universe in the making.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Time travel helps.

Sometimes you rush into the past to gain strength, confidence in knowing what you had and what you were. Sometimes it’s just a quest for the real, especially in a pretentious ‘now’.  You go back all the way, just so you believe, that the today is not what’s truly meant for you, that you are something, way different.

And then there are some of us who would rather tour tomorrow. Build castles in thin air. Create memories of a time yet to come. Some of us dare to imagine, dare to be broken.

And yet, time travel seems so much more real, so much more closer to my heart than the present…

Monday, July 18, 2016

There's an innate kind of beauty in what's broken.. In pieces that are not afraid to don any shape. Each crack having a mind and direction of its own. Unfazed, not conforming to appearances. Collecting reflections of different suns, bursting into their most honest colors. Put them against a group of mirrors and they'll evolve into the prettiest of patterns. Leave them aside and they'll cut you when you least expect it. But when you bring them all together, mend them, they form a replica of a previous creation.
We are broken pieces of a complete form, wrecked by multiple storms, fixed to last, over and over again. But however much we try to cover the scars or seal the gaps, we can never go back to perfect completion. We can ever be wholes, because we leave pieces of ourselves into it all. That's the beauty of what's broken.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

What does cold feel like?
Is it a shiver waiting to be silenced? Is it a breeze that soothes the skin? Is it the sand in the desert at night? Or the cubes of ice swimming in intoxication? Is it a flame gone out? Is it a companion of the darkness? Is it the snowflake that lands on the palm or the tear that wets the lips? Is it a heart that can't love anymore or a one that's burnt to ashes?

Saturday, July 16, 2016

I think we spend too much time staring at our screens, adding on the missing pieces to a bridge that's virtual. Trying to connect to a heart who's beats are too far to be heard. Why not instead go counting stars , or climb a dark mountain, or camp with the fireflies. Why not instead walk in a field of daffodils, feed the fishes at a pond. Or just walk over to the people you 'love' and talk them in the eye. The screen is what has replaced faces, minds, hearts, emotions. The screen is the reason why I wish I was a child of the past. So I'd know the bridges were real, and what the heartbeats sounded like.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

How many heartbreaks will it take to turn this heart into stone?
It has melted once, a long long time ago.
Fires of passion died, the remnants hardened with time,
Disfigured, settling, the heart moulded to a new shape,
Yet beating to a rhythm, the only one it knows
The chambers went on filling in, as soon as the voids
Every corner housing sweet memories of tempests
I wish it would melt once and for all into the arms of nothingness
No walls, no chambers, no memories of a lost time
No rhythm to alter, no feelings to silence, no fear of the end...

Monday, December 28, 2015

It is not the first time that this space inside of me has felt a void. Maybe you were just another temporary resident. Buried alive inside my walls, suffocated, knocking frantically so I would open the door and set you free.
You were looking for a home... Mine was just a house...