Heartless

I no longer crave for romance because of the promises I cannot keep. Why dwell in such hurly burly kind of delight when my heart will always be stained with unsettling thoughts inside my mind?

I do not want to hold someone’s hand neither do I want to be alone because I can keep company. Daydreams are not my dreamland. Taste buds have become bland. Heart beats mechanically. Moon is the constant companion.

I have abandoned those games love-sick puppies play. I am no ogre. I am just a ghoul. Scarred. Scared. Fleeting. Lingering. Numb.

It Happens…

It happens.
To those who keep changing its lairs.
The heart beating fearfully,
the heart bursting with gladness.
It changes.
Every now and then.
Darkness falls and it suddenly sees the light.
Sunshine hides and it suddenly feels its shadows.
Silence is everywhere,
yet voices keep hollering inside its head.
The sound of laughter is getting near,
yet it cannot taste happiness.
What is happiness to begin with?
It asks.
But tears of pain slowly slide away.
How is sadness felt?
But its smile eventually turns to guffaws.
Jump up, slow down.
Breathe not, make a frown.
Everything changes.
Its hue. Its substance.
No one knows what it is thinking.
And it knows not where it will be heading next.
It happens.
It’s real.
But who gives a shit about it?
No one.
Because no one understands.

Mockery

How wrong could you be to have contemplated that love was endless. You have positioned yourself comfortably on that pedestal like a proud Queen not even taking into account that you were never programmed to settle on that plinth. Painfully, you try to step behind, bringing along the chain that you have used to tie yourself down. You were so proud and now you have become a mockery. You were showered with sweet utterances but now you are swallowing the bitterness of all those lies. What a shame to have believed that you are truly loved and cared for….

Who’s With Me?

I have learned to close my eyes so as not to see the things that would only upset me. I have decided to cover my ears so I could not anymore hear the things that would only torment my soul. I have inculcated in my mind and taught my heart to let things be because I am extremely tired of trying to fight the battle which I would only lose in the end. I am too worn out and I feel so fucked up sometimes I wish I never existed.

Many times have I tried to stir large amount of positivity into my bitter aura but my cup of life remained unpleasant and sharp-tasting. Then came a point where I wanted to raise the white flag. Why dream of dreams? Why wish for wishful thinking? Why hope for hopeless matters? And why aspire for impossible things? I am very much alive yet I have a dying soul. I exist yet I am barely breathing. I tried to smile a lot, laugh aloud and gab the whole time but those remained to be just a façade and nothing more than that. Behind the laughter are the hidden tears. Behind that smile creeps the loneliness within. And behind those chatters is an emptiness that is killing the soul.

What could have caused these miseries? Bad karma? Wrong choices? A combination of both? Or maybe I have already crossed this thin line between sanity and madness?

Getting The Blues

Sometimes, the blues will catch you and let you stay within its grasps. You have this urge to take yourself back to those golden days where you are at most jovial with everything that surround you. And you are even considering the possibility of knocking on Hope’s door. But then, Reality would take you back and slap you on the face to stop you from dreaming, even hallucinating, at once. And that’s where you start to sing the blues once more.

Better Be Safe Than Sorry

Better to be alone than to stick to someone who doesn’t deserve your loyalty.
Better to be silent than to speak something you really know nothing of.
Better to frown than to pretend being happy and gay.
Better to be heartless than to forever mend a bruised heart.
Life is a battleground.
Love sucks, big time.

Fucked Up

Chances are, I may no longer want to fall in the trap again. Why is that? Why do I always end up with something so tragic? 

Lost

I prefer silence, the reason why I have given up weaving words. But the more I succumb to silence, the more my thoughts are running wild like a million wild horses running without clear directions.

There is no way my mind is at peace right now. I am nearly blinded by these hazy thoughts that bombard me each minute. I am trying to absorb everything even if I could not understand what these thoughts are and their significance to begin with. I keep breathing but I am dying inside. My heart keeps pumping but it has no life. I see things that surround me but everything is just a blur. I hear happy voices around me but those are just incomprehensible murmurs. Things are staying rational but those are the very things I could not understand and grasp. I keep walking and walking but like those wild horses, I have no clear directions at all.

I feel like floating sometimes which is making me wish I could turn into a ghoul so no one will notice me. I want to be numb already but I know I still have to feel the pain first before  I could achieve such numbness. I feel okay — that’s what I always say but who could ever be fooled with my ghost-like appearance?

I wish I could fly somewhere far. I do not wish to stay here. I prefer silence but I prefer to be buried in the deepest ocean the most. I want out. Please take me out. I am dying here…

Wild Child

He has always been a wild child but not wilder than his heart. He steps into different dimensions not even thinking of what lies beneath. He forces his way in only to struggle finding his way out. He touches everything even if it would mean piercing his skin and bruising his pride in the end. But with these hullabaloos, he continues to breathe knowing for a fact that only he can go in and out of such quandary.

He is, as they say, a wild child. But not wilder than his heart.

Carousel

Once, she was riding a carousel much to her delight. She was riding high and she was riding low, thinking she owned such treacherous plaything and would never be apart from it.  It even came to a point she was almost sure that the pleasure and the sense of belongingness she was seeking can only be found in that carousel.  And so she continued to ride high and to ride low.  She was pleased.

But the carousel was not hers to be owned.  It belonged to someone else and she knew that to begin with.  She has to let go and she has to forget everything. Those blissful moments has to cease and those assumed thoughts has to be erased.  She thought herself stupid for letting herself be assured of something fickle and so irrelevant.  She was building castles in the air, she realized.  And with that, she had a great fall.