You told me I could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything, yet all I am is a mix tape randomly set and brought together under some sort of sad theme. You told me ambitions are alright as long as they make sense, then why am I not a radio station with some sort of upbeat funk or some weekend music? Why can I hear pianos and violins rather than trumpets, flutes, accordions, or even electrically generated techno club music? Where’s the groove in my soul, when all I can sing are these navy blues? Where’s it gone to? Where’d it disappear to, since you said that having hope is valid and reasonable? I thought I deserved the best, but why’s my symphony so cheap? Why do I sound like a broken record? Why isn’t anyone listening to my station in their cars on the way back home? Why’s this what my future’s come to? You told me I was worth a bloody damned fortune, then where’s all the filthy cash? Where’d it waltz away to? Why can I only make people weep and not dance? Why? Why can’t anyone bear the sound of my notes? I thought hope was what I am, but it turns out I’m just another forgotten harmony after all, so no need to rewind; just pause me.

29/04/2015

Your absence is murdering the very little inspiration I have left in my soul, thus, obliged I am to beg and plead for your blessed and divine presence once more, before I consider placing chains on these heavy-hearted doors, before the raven starts to crow its “nevermore”, before the silence presents itself in quantum galore, before another my passions are conned to adore; return and watch what my damned black ink has in store, be it sinister or sore, be it of interest or of bore, be it whatever it may be, it is you who I have written it for.

27/04/2015

Anxiety. Fear. Panic. Horror. Shock.

5 stages we often go through. For some, it ends with tears and dreaded hallucinations. For others, it ends with manic laughter. 5 stages not all are aware occur in the fiddle human psyche. The kettle sounds, the clatter rebounds, the clutter of mind astounds, and the batter of heart is unsound. The 5 stages those paranoid are most familiar with. The 5 stages those titled "mental" recognize with ease. The 5 stages the proud are too dignified to confess are acquainted with. The 5 stages the bravest of hearts overcome. The 5 stages we all battle in some way or another.

25/04/2015

To me, your love was

water

satisfying my thirst

but

little did I know

that the water was 

murky

with filth. 

24/04/2015

Critique

Frankly, I’m not sure if the scene being played atop this mahogany stage is meant to be a soliloquy presenting a parody or some sort of satirical caricature. Frankly, I’m sure that by the end of this act, I’ll hear a squeaking epigram of ridicule being presented in the most degrading manner. Frankly, I’d have rathered to attend some sort of Elizabethan production over this polluted Italian comedy of rage and heart. Pause. The actor has fallen. The props are dropping. The light sets pop with deafening crackles. The navy blue curtains collapse cooly and carelessly instead of casually cascading. The director shrieks. The audience in muffling amusement. The pen continues to scritch on its way on the notepad. 

22/04/2015

Green. Envy green. Paper pieces falling from the sky, hitting at our sides as the breeze gushes from above. Green bank notes dance alongside us as we waltz our way through the metal vaults. Gold. Bronze gold. Mountains and hills loop around us as we make our ways through in beat with the jumping jazz of our hearts. Metal bars of gold drop like anvils onto the black and white checked floor. Crystal. Crystal clear. Cut pieces of mysterious origin rain into our palms. Diamonds cascade their way through like gentle bullets on our sparkling skin. I've been searching around for a lover, and I thought I'd find her in a dollar in these vaults. I've been searching around for a lover, and I thought I'd find her in my arms as we galloped the night through to a place behind bars. I’ve been searching around for a lover, but it seems I’ve only found love at the bottom of a rusty flask.

17/04/2015

Today, my dad's friend asked me what I wanted to become when I grew up. I said I wanted to become a burglar. The man exclaimed about why I'd say that. He said I should become a doctor or an engineer because I seemed like a smart kid, but he just didn't understand. He didn't know that I just wanted to grow up and become someone that can steal away all the reasons why you'd ever cry and be sad. I feel so sorry for the man, because he can never comprehend that Robin Hood was never really a thief. 

04/04/2015

The key to stop caring is to stop feeling. Achieve that, and your life will become smooth pavement of spectacular color.

26/03/2015