Maybe the way we see stars when we open our eyes after itching them is how our brains prepare us for the magic we're yet to see when getting a clearer glance at our lives. 

27/05/2015

I've grown to wonder how I could ever make my words become margins to my emotions. You see, my words have always been aligned to justify passions that I, myself, doubt to truly have existed. The issue of which concerns me most is the fact that for the past few years, I fear, all the spilt ink has been nothing at all. All I have between my ribs are feelings I can not trust until I spill ink instead of blood. Sadly, at times I cannot even trust my very own ink, as heartfelt as it might be, and I believe that is the greatest tragedy a writer could ever be bewildered by.

20/05/2015

I am the leader of this masquerade. I am the leader of this opposition. I am the leader of this rebellion–a rebellion of hearts. Attention, solute, march. Heads up, noses to the ground, hopes high. Morality is our code-name, and there’s no killing this revolution of ours. There’s no mass genocide of gas nor brainwashing in these quarters of our hearts; we are unbreakable. I am the leader of this masquerade, so go ahead, comrades; off with your masks, rattle your smashed mirrors, and on with your indiscreet parade. Go ahead, my brothers, my sisters, my fellow warlords; bring on this war of peace upon those blasted cheats, and speak none other than truth. Bring on our revolution of hears, your revolution of hearts, and damn their applauded blasphemy. This war will have a casualty number of (nil) in the enemy’s favor, but change is acoming. Join me, brothers, sisters, family, friends, strangers, all alike, and bring on the merry and jovial festivities with the pureness of once doomed hearts. This revolution of hearts will know not defeat, and only praise and prosperity. Bring on the merry and jazz as we spring to the fruitful fortune. Bring on our revolution of hearts with our properly conducted code of conduct. Bring on the honor, the freedom, the comfort. Bring on the beauty of this banquet, I preach, for this revolution of hearts will last on beneath our eyes only. Bring on the lemonade and summer heat with the revolution of silenced hope and pretense. Bring on the confetti bombs with grins wide and teeth white. Bring on the revolution and the charade of fresh gunpowder. I am the leader of this adequate masquerade, and so are you, comrades. We are all the generals and comrades of our revolution to justice: The Revolution of Triumphant Hearts. 

12/05/2015

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