Your eyes are a daydream, but why do they keep me up at night?

9:58. Tuesday


So Far Gone

Why do you suffer? With that hole in your heart. Why do you love the pain terribly? Letting it control  your selfish brain.

The pain consumes itself as you let it linger with the oxygen you consume. Numbing your senses, so you might as well sleep forever. The world you live in is a big cage of bad decisions, so you prefer to live inside a dream.

Nothing but heartache and obsession, you wrote her plans and poetry, but the woman of your dreams will never desire a man like you or see what you can do.

So you’ve decide to live life as if you’re dead. You made it 30 years and with sad eyes, you let it all take away your breath.

Loving An Obdurate Boy

It’s a long road of forgetting the past. When everything was inevitably colorful. Things that lack me today. In the present…I’m not content with this. Tell me, dear boy, why do good people change for the worse? Why is your head driven by naivety? Why can’t you grow up? Look up and see the stars I made just for you to feel enlighten for once. And yet, why are you throwing me away?

I speak with love and adoration, and yet you become earless; immune to my mouth. I may never breach the cavalier walls you build around yourself. I may never know the reason why you left. Simply, all I want is to drift away to a renewed mind where you won’t occupy any of its space.

Wasted Words

Soaked in water, drenched by the rain, wet and garbage; you are useless. Laid in here are the poems I’ve written when my days felt like everlasting nights. When cold hands tangled its finger on my throat, I wrote down every ache I felt. The teardrops I accepted as friends and forever stained on its pages. The stories it carried. The memories. My faults and flaws.My words written permanently by ink, now splatters of unknown letters like my greatest fear.

You were ruined in a peculiar way, and I found it strange as well. Simply not just by an accidental spill by my clumsy self. And yet, it is still my fault you are now broken and unreadable.

A Stranger Kind Of Thing

Strangers from a distance can lead to something more. Yet no intentions of speaking have come to mind, let alone hold hands. Your eyes and your smile that felt enigmatic within me scared me to the skin. Healing an open wound from a past unrequited love this girl had experienced. For months and years I’ve never knew your name, just your face and those black-rimmed glasses that I know will be a source of my weakness. I have counted the days where It crept me dearly on why I see you occasionally on these deadbeat walls and hallways. Maybe my light through the end of the tunnel? The clearing after months of scorching through a never ending labyrinth? Or maybe, I’m just speaking out of my heart again.

Pity the fool in me for assuming things. Thinking ahead will give you a heartache at the end. Still, all I know is tragedy. I might as well give this a chance.