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Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sun. You. Blue. You.
Hey, remember the first bask of sunlight that hits your skin and slowly but completely envelops you in a semi-warm embrace when you just walk out in the open, a huge infinite span of green? Or the first deep breath you take in first thing in the morning? Feel every fibre in your soul opening up, taking in the little molecules of oxygen as you stretch and the sense of peace and blue coolness that settles on everything? That sunlight is you. And so is that peaceful coolness.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
And indeed Sunday, a day of rest.
I have always had rather contradicting thoughts about Sundays. Honest to say, I am one who detest the idea of work and the end of Sunday beckons the beginning of a week long of possibly mindless toiling at the computer desk. Natural to say, I ain't looking forward to it.
Whenever Sunday comes, it sort of leaves me with a dread and a feeling of helplessness and finality in the pit of my stomach. Am I ready for the new week? Have I rest justly or have I simply squander away what little energy that barely feeds me? I happen to also be the one with many questions. Questions I have no doubt will answer themselves when the next Sunday arrives.
I often take the opportunity to keep myself stuck in the loop or laspes of being conscious and not. Taking little naps, staying in my room all day, not speaking a single syallbi if I don't have to and running my thoughts wild about the things I could have achieved if I only had the spirit to act upon them. Again, I found a need to defend my worthlessness.
Sunday, like the dark before light, should fill one with hope but not mine. Although, it does let me take refuge in make-believe dreams, a world I have subconsciously created with the whims of my mind to ease my soul. But it does not constitute a legitimate reason to spend what could be a glorious day not doing anything. I should indulge myself in creativity, drink in the company of my Muse, if only she so exists or simply take off in a heartful stride towards nothing and everything. But instead, I chose to stay in the confines of a room and a jail made of human flesh. I ought to be ashamed of myself but this is me. And one I would accept at this point in time.
I yearn to be in company sometimes, to be in the arms of a loved one. To embark on a journey of discovery as I look into her eyes, deciphering one shade from another. To hold her hand and put it gently across my still beating heart. To meet lip and lip in a sensual kiss of utter romance or to simply sit in silence.
I am in too much of a hurry to please myself, twisting truths to fit my own moulds and bending conversations so they will fill my head with false melodies. I can't possibly defend myself any longer. I've let my demons consume me. I wish all is not lost for I imagine that any shreds of hope I have will sustain me.
So take heed; whether you will spend your Sundays caught up in the senselessness yet familial comfort of your wretched mind or spend them however you do, spend your Sundays truthfully, for it is a beckoning of new beginnings.
Whenever Sunday comes, it sort of leaves me with a dread and a feeling of helplessness and finality in the pit of my stomach. Am I ready for the new week? Have I rest justly or have I simply squander away what little energy that barely feeds me? I happen to also be the one with many questions. Questions I have no doubt will answer themselves when the next Sunday arrives.
I often take the opportunity to keep myself stuck in the loop or laspes of being conscious and not. Taking little naps, staying in my room all day, not speaking a single syallbi if I don't have to and running my thoughts wild about the things I could have achieved if I only had the spirit to act upon them. Again, I found a need to defend my worthlessness.
Sunday, like the dark before light, should fill one with hope but not mine. Although, it does let me take refuge in make-believe dreams, a world I have subconsciously created with the whims of my mind to ease my soul. But it does not constitute a legitimate reason to spend what could be a glorious day not doing anything. I should indulge myself in creativity, drink in the company of my Muse, if only she so exists or simply take off in a heartful stride towards nothing and everything. But instead, I chose to stay in the confines of a room and a jail made of human flesh. I ought to be ashamed of myself but this is me. And one I would accept at this point in time.
I yearn to be in company sometimes, to be in the arms of a loved one. To embark on a journey of discovery as I look into her eyes, deciphering one shade from another. To hold her hand and put it gently across my still beating heart. To meet lip and lip in a sensual kiss of utter romance or to simply sit in silence.
I am in too much of a hurry to please myself, twisting truths to fit my own moulds and bending conversations so they will fill my head with false melodies. I can't possibly defend myself any longer. I've let my demons consume me. I wish all is not lost for I imagine that any shreds of hope I have will sustain me.
So take heed; whether you will spend your Sundays caught up in the senselessness yet familial comfort of your wretched mind or spend them however you do, spend your Sundays truthfully, for it is a beckoning of new beginnings.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
She's a yellow pair of running shoes
My only pair of demin jeans
She looks great in my oversized tee-shirt
She looks great in anything and even better underneath
She's my silly who can't find a thing to wear in the morning and whom I have to coax into eating
She's "I want a piece of chocolate, take me to the movie even if I can't hear it,"
She's the one in Alex's Yankee baseball cap, her blond hair blowing against her face in the wind
She's a soft place to land, and a hard fighter
Warm conversations in bed, she's the giver I wish I could be
And the stealer of the covers
She's the hand I want getting the lay of my land
For the rest of my life, forever until it ends
You'd think her weird for a German who doesn't drink
You'd think her unrealistic cause' she's my hopeless dreamer and romantic
You'd know her as my nature-loving girlfriend who kisses trees and name them me
You'd know her as my Saturdays and Sundays and all the days in between
She's a bubble bath and candles
She's a "baby, come and kiss me,"
She's a picture in my wallet
Of my unborn children's mother
She's the ring on my finger
the only commitment I wanna be committee on
She's the hand that I'm holding when I'm crossing the traffic at 90
Or the squeaky rocking chair I want rocking beside me
She's the answer to my prayers, the song that I'm playing
She's the simple truth and life's biggest mystery
She's the voice I love to hear when she so infrequently speaks
Yeah, I see that now.
She was everything I need.
My only pair of demin jeans
She looks great in my oversized tee-shirt
She looks great in anything and even better underneath
She's my silly who can't find a thing to wear in the morning and whom I have to coax into eating
She's "I want a piece of chocolate, take me to the movie even if I can't hear it,"
She's the one in Alex's Yankee baseball cap, her blond hair blowing against her face in the wind
She's a soft place to land, and a hard fighter
Warm conversations in bed, she's the giver I wish I could be
And the stealer of the covers
She's the hand I want getting the lay of my land
For the rest of my life, forever until it ends
You'd think her weird for a German who doesn't drink
You'd think her unrealistic cause' she's my hopeless dreamer and romantic
You'd know her as my nature-loving girlfriend who kisses trees and name them me
You'd know her as my Saturdays and Sundays and all the days in between
She's a bubble bath and candles
She's a "baby, come and kiss me,"
She's a picture in my wallet
Of my unborn children's mother
She's the ring on my finger
the only commitment I wanna be committee on
She's the hand that I'm holding when I'm crossing the traffic at 90
Or the squeaky rocking chair I want rocking beside me
She's the answer to my prayers, the song that I'm playing
She's the simple truth and life's biggest mystery
She's the voice I love to hear when she so infrequently speaks
Yeah, I see that now.
She was everything I need.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Just what if?
What would you do if you had a chance to go back in the past?
Would you try to redeem yourself, to do right for once?
How would things be different if you have said goodbye one last time?
Turn your head around, give her a tight hug and look into her eyes
What would you say to a last meal, a last kiss or a last dance?
Would you still have declined?
What if you were given a choice to save her, to get there in the nick of time, even if it meant losing your life?
I know what I'll do
And I'll do it for the rest of my life.
Fate watches you and your fruitless taunts that go nowhere over your shoulders
It's laughing at you, you insignificant homosapien, making snide comments about how silly you are
"The truth is staring you in the eye, idiot! What are you waiting for?"
Right, so why am I still sitting here?
So what am I truly waiting for?
Would you try to redeem yourself, to do right for once?
How would things be different if you have said goodbye one last time?
Turn your head around, give her a tight hug and look into her eyes
What would you say to a last meal, a last kiss or a last dance?
Would you still have declined?
What if you were given a choice to save her, to get there in the nick of time, even if it meant losing your life?
I know what I'll do
And I'll do it for the rest of my life.
Fate watches you and your fruitless taunts that go nowhere over your shoulders
It's laughing at you, you insignificant homosapien, making snide comments about how silly you are
"The truth is staring you in the eye, idiot! What are you waiting for?"
Right, so why am I still sitting here?
So what am I truly waiting for?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Hey,
Yeah?
Here, scoot over.
I need a favour.
Anything.
It's sort of a long-term commitment.
Sounds like my kind of project.
*Smiles* Really?
Well, as long as it involves making out with a certain German, blond-hair girl for the rest of my life in that package, sure.
Gutterbrain
YOUR gutterbrain. So what's up?
I want you to grow old with me.
Note to self: Stay the fuck away from foods resembling pancakes/hotcakes!
As above. Clear as day.
I let her be dead then.
I should have kept it that way.
But I can't seem to keep my word.
I can't stay away or pry my fingers away from the wretched wood.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
I can't stop looking at my tattoos
You're the reason why I couldn't stop staring at you
I'm literally wearing you on my sleeve now
All those years of being without
I wish I could still feel you under my skin
Feel your breath and essence suffused in every cell of my body
My roses and skull
My gun
The old school film camera
The tiny script behind my ear
They all remind me of you and why you're not here
Why do you think I got them in the first place?
Why do you think I subjected myself to all that pain without batting an eyelid, without turning green in the face?
Today, I'm putting that gun away
I'm wiping the wheels clean
I'm gonna stop running,
stop defiling your lovely memory
I know I haven't been the most convincing lately
I kept running back to you
The late-night tears kept coming
No, it isn't fair, you tell me
Heck, it isn't even half-right
But do believe me now
But that's all I'm asking
For a last chance
For a last wish
I love you, Tara
Now that, you can believe
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