THE RULE

The sunrise was a mirror image of a sunset.

Does that mean I don't need you?

THE LEISURE OF BEING CONTAINED

Who knew running can make you feel numb? And when you can no longer feel, you long to be able to stop. But when you can see the line between the sky and the land, how can you resist the impulsion?

So I guess I'll just keep running. And keep it to my end of the field.

ON THE RUN

I lay on a bed of metaphors, the enigma of our thoughts.

THEIR ACQUIESCENCE

Surely you can forgive me for the sombre atmosphere I've cast upon your sky?

Stay in my arms, only if you dare.

THE SKY AND THE HAY

You don’t believe in perfectly straight lines, and being perfect in general. You don’t deny the boxes and columns of how I perceive, and perceive it through with just the right hint of abstraction. Every bit of natter is an ensemble of colours, spinning indefinitely for my eyes to see.

You’re my cellophane flower.

SPECTACLE OF SADNESS

It shattered my heart, witnessing such chaos of emotions, displayed for the prying eyes to see. They're standing in the small, dark room, anticipating. Not for the singer to sing, or the athlete to play, but to face humiliation, confusion, and more prying eyes. What sentiment is it supposed to trigger, seeing a man hold his child, and stare at his lover, from behind iron bars with such sad eyes, and a sad heart? All he can do is nod, and await for the sentence to be conveyed. He sees the lock, but the key's unfound.

And I am one to be ashamed.