EL DORADO

She called out, telling me to find a mirror.

So in the corner of the room I stood, my own reflection within sight.
The flower on the mirror became a recurring pattern –
the corner my own little cavern.

Tears fell, mingling in the water,
for I was at the bottom of the ocean.
The green hue clouded my view, and
 submerged in colour, I said,
"I am no longer in love with you."

FINDINGS

"I'm writing again.
Everything is playing on repeat.
All I care about is leaving evidence for me,
when I wake up.
In real life.
In reality.

Everything is playing on repeat."

4:32 AM,
2 June 2012.

MUSE

The hole you left in my tiny heart was home for my confusion,
the reason of my seclusion.

Frantically scrambling for a paper and pen,
that was how I found myself again.

INTO YOUR WORLD

He’s alone, but not quite, for the figures came swooping in.

Shadows. His.

Grey, hazy, but bright.

He touched his heart, and took a right step.

A leap to a patch of air, and the shadows took bait.
Swift, but always a fraction too late.
The effort they took just seemed to be too great.

His emotions, his movements.
He’s alone – but not quite.


So he tilted his head, beckoning them to follow.

A point of the finger, and the shadows chased.
This time, he could feel their haste.
But nothing, not even his shadows, could match his grace.

Another twirl, another sway.
He’s alone – but not quite.

Frustration – a few more poised steps.

Futile attempts – and a few of them left.

Whoever remained crossed behind his back.

The astounding symmetry – an epiphany.

Whatever remained mimicked his existence.

Feigning his consistence, closing the distance.

But at the end, no matter the pace, nothing could match his grace.
He’s alone – but not quite.

And at the end, they simply left –
Leaving him with truly no one but himself.


* Adapted from the slurring of a certain Writer in the Dark,
along with the twenty-third picturesque tease.

IT'S NOT SEX...

It's drugs.

FAREWELL.

That dream-like haze is gone; sunlit green grass replaced my surrounding.

In case you are reading this,

If I could have done anything more, I would have. But what good would it do, doing more of something that’s not the right thing to do, that wouldn’t have made anyone happier?

Therefore, I stand by everything that I have said. All the bitterness has gone, and I’m hoping that this gratitude and this feeling of relief isn’t one-sided.

I can never say this enough: Thank you for everything.

We were happy for a while, being together, and we’ll still be happy, though apart.


Thank you.

CHILDHOOD DREAMS REVISITED

The solemn dark earth was a shrine of orbs. Shining, glowing orbs, as grand as the sun, perched on top of installations thousands of meters high. These were the Gods, the entity They coveted, the being They fought over. When they fell, countless white debris showered Their heads, Their mouths murmuring prayers.

My head turned, and I found myself awake in the dark. Alone, frightened, and disturbed.

FRIEND

Having the chance to take a deep breath for a moment seems like a privilege. But if what you hear the very next thing after that breath is news that breaks your heart more than you want to, more than it should, you seem to forget the things you were so very intent of thinking the days before.

You were the one person I saw myself spending the day with, throwing things into the air.

It’s heartbreaking to see the image shattered.

SHI-T

The little artifact, left mistakenly, became a company for a pathetic hope. The different parts, each time taken, become a reminder of a sole entity - and I am forced to reiterate a saying said at a time (perhaps, but hopefully not) long forgone.

But the little thing, with time, became more and more like me, and seemingly less of the other.

What does that say?

PERSONAL CARGO

Upon our heads are the invisible bowls, boxes, buckets. Kept hidden, unseen, the veil continually changing in colour. The burden, or the challenge, to always stand upright. The battle, or the abandonment, to perpetually appeal to somebody's eyes. To withhold the unnecessary, to relay the absolute truth.

To suppress the selfish compulsion, to learn to be content.

CLICK!

When questions arise, defeat them. Or else, let them be. Maybe one day you'll hear a click! in your head, and, suddenly, you'll know what to do, where to go, and who to be.

TO LIVE AND TO DIE

As I recall, in the words of that certain peculiar fellow, there is something astonishingly romantic indeed about dying a believer.

I was a believer, may still be a believer, and may or may not remain a believer.

In any event, bless the believers, and those who do not believe. On the other hand, curse the headless, and save the heartless, please, for I might be the latter, and a hopeless romantic.

REVELATION

There must be at least one moment in a year, a month, a day, when you feel as if the world revolves around you. In another moment in the year, the month, the day, you'd feel tiny, insignificant, vulnerable, and bare.

When either thought overpowers, close your eyes, and drown yourself in nothingness.

NATURAL ANALOGIES

When what was once your absolute surrealism becomes more and more realistic by the moment, what kinds of thoughts haunt you? It’s like a sudden shower pouring over your head when you were outside staring at a city’s skyline on a cold day.

Would you walk away and take shelter, or would you take a deep breath and keep walking?

CAST OFF

Some things are often made, but never conveyed.

All the letters in my drawer is proof. All the words in my notebook is proof. All the thoughts I have in mind is proof.

RESONANCE IN THE DARK

I remember when I woke up, thinking that I really heard a scream, a piercing scream, that startled me out of my bed.

The echo of the sound is exactly like the echo of you.

LIGHTS, REFLECTED

Reminiscing is made easy when a reminder from the past, the very recent past, keeps you blinking with eyes alert; when images, taken from another’s eyes, appear before your very eyes; when you wake up, not wanting to wake up, and see your own dream vivid in your head.

Then you start to doubt yourself, because you thought you’ve learnt.

But is it such a sin, wanting not to let go, wanting to grasp what you thought you have, wanting to relive everything you really had?

If only people could live in many realities. Then all my questions would be solved, my curiosity quenched.

THE CONFOUNDER

I never knew I could accept an objection to my reasoning. But maybe I needed that; maybe I needed to be proven wrong, for once.

Your wit astounded me, and left me standing aghast.

/

If you are the postman, then I am the messenger.
If you are the magician, then I am the audience.
If you are the prodigy, then I am the adjudicator.

If you are the story-teller, then I am the deceiver.

A STUNNING SPELL

I never could resist an atmospheric charm.

On days, the black starless sky can be as alluring, and as convivial, as a great grey one. If I were large enough to hug it close to my chest, I would. But for that time being, with feet glued to the ground, I felt content silently falling under its spell, and being stunned.

It felt like getting lost within one’s self.