Wilt

lights on

She was wrong, it was deliberate

how can I ever express disappointment

when you have nothing to begin with

it would make zero sense,

invalid

you want it vague, you want it non-conventional

you want to cut yourself, you bleed

you immerse in torment, intense, in vain


remember, void


I remember





lights off

weakening, dampened

I should have listened, your intentions

known better - a hideous expression

I didn't come to make anyone a fool




you can murder me

quietly,

thunderously

necrophilously



a secret I shall keep

hush

I wilt in the dark

you can trust me

Nonlinear Narrative

"...he has a mind of his own"

said she, eyes looked away.

Took it quickly, with a smile.

A slight gaze of melancholy.



So much resemblance, when actions were mimicked

as sunlight got reflected from side mirrors

to the grapevines

heat trapped all in a ball, air so humid

voices and the bodies of one and another, connected and re-enacted,

soccer match cheers and barbecue parties

this sight before me,


I didn't run away







calm and soft,

amongst the worldly vibrations, perceptions, interceptions

I think of you

gently, surpassing all dimensions

I'll hook your arm and

walk you home

to see you fly

of which you belong to

Time Warp

You (must have) had a very, very kind heart


you still do

I furrowed





You (must have) came a fair long way

masked your face with a thousand appearances

     murked your features so no one can tell

feels like I've known you for the longest time

though I don't remember you being aloof

     consistent with a form



can I bathe myself in your history,

then your vision?

I can then mend your wounds, nurture you strength

give you love






your earth-toned shoes don't even look the same from those years

of course they don't

change is inevitable






I fought for light years

to see you again

traded treasures, memories, an eternity

finally, timely








I was told that we could fall in love again

Melodious

Then fingers started to tingle

body cries to be cracked

joints on the back, the limbs

would you be kind enough to have them identified?




You parallelized with my voice

not a dual tone,

but amongst the conversation between my body and I

where space was only meant to fit

        a being of solitary, fragmented solitary

non-intrusive, guard shed



was it the very image

like a spell, cast from a green of a rare bred

computerized when we first met,

coded and carved skilfully, as if designed as an implant


or was it all only played on the screens of the mind;

the abrupt enemy




Such nights

I wonder if you tried to have thoughts conveyed

as I did when I had you acted out, a character

to keep me shielded

from the oust of one of reality's take

extracted from the book of infinite hypothesis, probability






As she peeks

page two hundred and seventy one

a short fable flipped


you're here with me in my arms

you hum me a lullaby,

as I kiss you goodnight

No Sugar Added

Chasing your footprints as I pant

every time you leave

I chased as if its the best of me

picked myself up as I fall

inconsistency and fluctuations

No hesitations, as I chase






I would

kiss your forehead as you procrastinate

tuck you to bed if you had a bad dream

anonymously

just like how I had that moment frozen

having you all to myself

parted from a glass door

no judgement

no slither

no satire

an audible heartbeat






All I have to remember is

how it was

when we just stood and watch each other

Disability

If (R)omance is a fabrication, rooted out of the basic frame of human emotions - 

It is the by-product of capitalism, consumerism, perhaps, The New Hollywood. 

Not love, we are all born for love, just romance.

Lounge music played, progression of chords performed but to soothe your ears, a convention.

Wine glasses cheered, candle lights, an ambiance reproduced.

Her conversational eyes and a smile of sunshine - no money can buy,

his suit and tie, a reflection of honnête homme

selectively, we chose to be.

As classic as it is, we sing praises, write of poems - exploit art, via expression. 

A treasured vehicle, we claim.

Structure, is what I gain from my education of sociology. Mass produced is what defines most of us, even emotionally.

How true am I from my core, that speaks none of mimicry and imitation.

Unidentifiable, therefore not a standard.

I am born normal, physically and outwardly a norm.

Less do I know, of which that cannot be seen, is left to be discovered.

My disability, for instance.

Albeit an ardour for love.

Correlation

I took a stroll into the woods.

Deep breathings exchanged, steadfast were my footsteps. The sound of a drizzle took over, clearing the thick haze that was lingering. 

There were whispers, murmurs about exploration and being lost. Some gave warnings, threw cynical laughters, imploded grievous cries. Dissonant noises hard to ignore.

I needed it, the rhythm to ground volatility. Chants to be sealed. 

I continued my stroll, deeper into the woods.

An audiation of the inner voice has taken place. The heart speaks, translated by the body, obeyed by the mind.

I saw it, upright, hiding behind an old oak tree.

I walked towards the tombstone.

Not a tinge of fear rose, but curiosity blossomed, like crawling ivies, all over the square stone. It was blank and solid. No carvings, no inscriptions, just dirt, maybe covered by some moss.
It lied peacefully on the ground. Alive, as if it was breathing.

Like gravity, I was drawn to it. 

Hauled, rather.

Is this where my heart pulsates to?

How long do we have left to live?