Lung Cancer

I'm blowing out turquoise ash and fuchsia cigarette smoke as I sit by the ocean and think of your aqueous eyes. You've become my main cause for the lung cancer that I constantly breathe in and out, and there's no stopping its infectious spread. My vital signs drop by the day, yet all I do is take puff following puff every moment I am given the chance. You will not be the death of me; you already are the death of me, but I don't mind it one bit. I don't mind it at all because I'm sure that with my death will stroll my dreams of shine and glamour; with my funeral will come my fame. I pull in the poison into my system, yet I feel no intoxication; I feel only freedom as it hastes alongside my nerves. You are my lung cancer, you are my distress, you are my death, but nonetheless, you remain to be my love under all circumstance. You are my lung cancer, but dying because of you is an honorable cause. You are my lung cancer, but when I was diagnosed, the physicians mentioned nothing of sooted muscle or black cells; they detected only colors of the light spectrum being reflected even under x-ray emissions. You are my lung cancer, but it seems that with you will not come death and an end; it seems with you comes life, even under a surgeon’s table, or even underneath soil. Perhaps I will grow out to be something beautiful. 

27/02/2015

"Love" he says. I laughed.

Where is this love of which you speak? Where does it reside? Where is its address? I know for a fact that your heart to it is not home, so speak truth and no other than truth; where is this love of which you speak? Where is its sanctuary? Speak. Speak I command, and tell our blessed audience about the story of this love you sham us with. Speak, I command, you vile earthling, and tell the soldiers and armies before us today where this love of yours exists; for they have been patient for a time infinite, like the leaves of the green and yellow grasses that emerge on the land of imagined prairies. I command that you answer: Where is this false love of yours? You have no answer, it appears, thus comes with your silence your execution. 

27/02/2015

The age of poetry has been slaughtered. Welcome to a new era.

My words are not poetry any longer;

They are plucked wings 

Singing none other than the song

Of sadness that every heart alive

Has failed to find the perfect

Pitch to; no soul

Could discover a good enough

Melody.

27/02/2015

Victim of Murder

Part of me is dead inside,

And there's a corpse of foul odor

Rotting at the edges of my soul, 

But there is no chance of 

Bleach doing the job

At cleaning up the mess

You've made of my heart.

27/02/2015

Alice In Wakeland

Weather me or fall. Weather me or fall to the sanctioned world of kaleidoscopes and bright colors like that of Alice and her distinct and distant non-existant Wonderland. Weather me or fall into the arms of the stranger within you which has no clue of doubt nor misconduct that your soul truly suffers without its conscience; weather me, your conscience, your heart, your everything. Weather me or fall into the sin of my blue and cold-blooded suicide. Weather me as I am a storm and you are a boat lost afar from shore. Weather me as you would weather all other mistaken tragedies of your life, but do not put me into your book of ancient runes as though I have been nothing but a glimpse of pain in your thought; weather me like I am fog that takes over your vision and confuses you. Weather me like I am the fog and the cloud of your judgement, but never let me go. Weather me and never forget that I have been your strength, your sanity, and your sanctuary at your time of need and want. Weather me for the quote love of love and its soft hours unquote, as the brilliant and gallant bard has once written and spoken and had his puppets act with truce and ardor. Weather me for the love of love and its soft hours I beg and plead for you are my only memory of a time once lost. Weather me, weather me please I beg on my knees of waves and my fists of shores; weather me as I am yours and yours alone. Weather me with my peculiar patterns and configurations and numbers and figures and letters and languages, oh God, weather me as I am and as I will be. Weather me as I weigh us both down, and never give up your courtly manner, as it is the only ground I have to stand atop. Weather me and have no change of heart as I am yours yours yours yours and yours alone. Weather me with my tornado tantrums and rainy triumphs. Weather me with all your might and your bravery and your love because I am the broken boy from the broken home with broken dreams, and you’re the only fancy still alive and real. Weather me sooner than never and label yourself saviour of my faulty mind, heart, soul. Weather me before I assassinate laughter at its purest of forms from the diaphragm of a child and before I snatch the pride away from the eyes of the senior on her death bed. Weather me for the sake of humanity and for your own sake, for I am your pride and your sin, yours alone not shared with another soul of Adam’s sons, yet in my arms (your arms) is the ability to either shake a hand in proposal or peace, or shake the ground in displays of audacious resentment. Weather me and be not an Alice that runs off to her make-believe Wonderland. Weather me and be brave with your love.

19/02/2015 – 21/02/2015

The Start

So, I guess I can say that it was a really brave step for me to start this blog. 
I've been considering doing this for quite a while now. 
This is basically going to be a blog with some of my writing that 
I don't mind being publicly displayed. 
I really hope you all like it. I'd also like to 
thank all those who've supported me throughout the growth 
of my writing including my friends and family.

Enjoy.