and as the world passes by unstressed by the waning fire in your eyes
you heave your chest deeper as life ebbs into oblivion



You and I occupy different orbits that run clockwise and counter,
meeting only after a weekly revolution
or when the weather is nice enough that we cheat the course
and find ourselves saying “Hello” within those small windows of
The planets giggle at our sporadic alignment as asteroids fly by to run
yet we sprout brighter and hotter than any star in the system
a constant constellation to look forward to —

No More

There will always be walls and walls of you that cannot be tapered down by wrecking balls or jackhammers –
An elaborate labyrinth has hedged you from the rest of the world, never to see the sunrise nor the sunset
You travel it desperately with the sins of those who never gave a damn
and pushed away the prying hands of those who knew the pearl within the clam

There are no winners in this argument


I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to live either.

These state of minds wander aimlessly in the labyrinthine corridors of my mind. They come and they go, sometimes disguising as the will to live and be better, to overcome the soul-sucking experience of the now and then I am convinced that I am okay, that I am better, that the dark part of my brain has been illuminated and I can go on with wherever fate the world decides for me. And yet here I am again, in the dark, in the place where I am considered unappreciative and ungrateful and all the things I know I cannot control. I wish to see the world in a different light, to believe in the words that I say, to live…live and be willing to accept failure, criticism, concern, love, anything to fill this void, this bottomless pit I keep falling into.


In this vast galaxy powdered with glitter,
(each more bizarre than the other)
two lone stars drifted too close,
fluttering amicably as planets and moons pass them by –
shyly gleaming in the clouds or
slyly glinting sparks to the Sun:
destined to fall out of orbit whizzing to detonate a


I am afraid of matchsticks burning my fingers
or elevator doors slicing me in half
I am terrified of kissing you for the last time in a day
or waking up realizing you no longer love me
I am frightened of the future, of what tale it would hold, if it’d still be you and me
or just… me
I am petrified of these thoughts, of these dreams, of these fears that latch when I look into your eyes
and catch all this warmth and not know what to do if they disappear, when –

Still Life

She is a block of stubborn marble
being sculpted to a certain design,
to a certain direction,
to a figure that speaks a different
message from what she intended,
from her transcendental essence –

With each hammer-strike another part of her is
ticked off, important pieces that the artist
dismisses; the pieces she cradled within the walls
of her prison,
of her person,
of her…

The fleshing of she not being she as
limbs and torso and intellect function only through commands and demands,
this precious stone, this block, this cell,
this compact arrangement of atoms that
thirst delicate fingers of art, of feeling,
of anything but this undulating hollowness
the fraud calls Still Life


I spent much time outside my head
I didn't notice when I'd lost people
I spend much time inside my head
I now don't know how to gain people

Sometimes the consequences of experiences
past, alter us to a point where we operate 
on safe mode or auto pilot

never good enough for anybody
no one worthy enough to break the walls

just existing for the sake of existence


You know that tickling feeling you get when you’re riding the Vikings? The swinging part where you’re flung way up in the air and stay there for a couple of seconds then be gliding down by the sheer physics.
That’s exactly how f0ce45fa4333ede5aaa0c405838e4a8f.jpgyou make me feel when you flash that goofy smile of yours, the knowing glance that you’ve made my heart skip a beat or stop altogether. The satisfaction that you achieve as you transform me into the happiest person on the face of the earth because of a surprise kiss on the cheek or an uncalled for hug that just melts me into your mould.

I might be short with the headcount but I understand the concept completely. Friends don’t leave you for dead. No matter the entanglement, if you’re close friends, casual friends or soulmates, the response should be the same. That you’ll always be there for them through thick and thin, even when they don’t ask for it. ESPECIALLY, when they ask for it. You should be there in the way you understand how they need you to be. Right beside this person with no blood-relation but is just as important as family.


The crook of your neck is my favorite place to rest my chin,

to bury my nose deep into the crutches of your scent: the natural musk of my person manifested

as a trail of fingertips tiptoe on your bare chest, a smile tugs at my lips gently at the bliss of midday splayed around you,

in turn, you scratch my back fondly: the soft contours of my unflattering body don’t feel as unflattering anymore

rather, you transform me into a wonderland of bubbles, mischief and sweetness encircled in this secret display of “us”