Do not resuscitate

Busy streets, high hopes

Impossible dreams, can’t cope

It kills me, you

Head keeps spinning

Heart keeps beating

Make me forget

The ties I’ve knotted

Make me lie to myself

Make it real and permanent

I can no longer endure

Do not resuscitate.


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A not-so-hopeless wanderer

You’re a piece of me that I will never have.

I read somewhere that everything we write, we write for someone, directly or indirectly. So, what’s the hype? These “someones” impart something of themselves to people, to us, to the seemingly unnoticeable. I, for one, would think that I have given my all to the people I care most that none is left for me.

I am writing because I feel I have so much to give but none to give to. It seems that all my efforts are stagnant in keeping everyone happy that it ruins the very essence of it. Keeping myself happy, in the long run, isn’t reassuring. It’s like condemning myself of sadness – the inevitable hurt. And without it, we won’t experience true happiness. For every stone-cold sadness there is an equivocal, almost euphoric happiness.

But what the actual fuckity fuck.. too much of this melancholy kills.

I am writing to you, to the wanderers who never stop dreaming, never ceasing to defeat, always fighting. To those who still have strength waking up, doing what life tells us, and dodging its cruel blows. To the bellowing hearts who love unconditionally, though not always reciprocated, still do so.

And to that bit of happiness still left in me, may you flicker with life.

C’est la vie.

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Dream on

Lonely are the nights when silence and the cold are your only companions. You cling onto your blankets desperately breathing in its warmth until there’s none left and you feel cold again.

Living at the moment seems like yesterday and the future’s all we care of. Why don’t we play the Russian Roulette of life and focus at the moment the revolver’s on your temple. Because when the bullet hits your skull, nothing really matters anymore.

As the moonlight lit the night and the stars flurry along, one can only think of how beautiful it is. When the wind blows eerie leaves as they waft into sunset, one can only dream of drifting with them. And as you sulk on a bench thinking of how hard life is, you see people, movement, life and vigor, and they only move you forward.

“Live and let live.”

We all have a sense of wanting. The unintended chooses you, and you go for your “intention”. You wanted something sour; life gave you vinegar, but you really wanted lemon. You created the best vinaigrette there is and that’s what matters.

Life has it perks, it’s ups and downs, and maybe the rolling over and sliding. Give it a chug and let all loose to your comfort. Wanting more in life doesn’t make you less deserving of it. If you took a liking with the perverse , give none of your fucks to people who criticize you.

And if in dreams you find peace, dream on.

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A fly on the wall

It makes you want to kill it

You never catch it

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I never actually knew what I am capable of and now that I know, I am scared of myself.

All these feelings that I have no room for in real life are making its existence. Vague as they seem, they continually poison me inside.

The visions I see: the bloodbath, the anarchy, the seduction,  and the lies are caving in and they’re eating me alive. They are as tangible as my hand pressing different keys on my pc.

I wish I were a fly on a wall so I could see them all lingering on me. As I call my name from the distance I would hear a cry for help but I would just buzz and suck some leftovers. And when I plead to take my life back as I put on the deadly circle, I would bang head to the window trying to elope with my filthy wings.

I will sing the song of my people but they would cry because of sheer terror. I will dance with the rhythm of life but as I sway into the deathly night, it swallows me whole. I will write a poem of love but all that I desire is too far gone.

I know how to swim yet I find myself sinking.


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Oh weather

It’s so cold today

Cover me with your blanket

Let’s cuddle all day

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Fear is a lonely man

Is it proper for a man to be truthful of his words even though denying them is the only choice he could make?

Is it fine to let someone be enslaved by fear knowing that there are ways to counter it yet you’re too preoccupied with your own life?

Am I just babbling?

Do I even know what I’m saying?

Should truth be told that we cannot avoid fear let alone ignore it?

It’s somewhat part of the spectrum of life – the non-visible spectrum. It is there just creeping into our souls, ruining our sanity, and making us think of unworldly things.

All I know is that fear is a lonely man and it needs someone, something to be with.

But we keep on burying them “fearing” that they might ruin us. Fear doesn’t end with overcoming it. Fear will only leave you if you served them right. Only in that case you will comprehend a fear’s longing. 

To be worth it for someone, to make a good cause out of that companionship is what gives pride to fear.

It’s like your evil bestfriend. Its existence is somewhat yours too. You believed in that fear and you want to get rid of it at the same time.

As tiresome they might be and annoying as hell, they make us feel human. A human with emotions and overbearing heart. Their intention is to make you feel alive and fighting. Their goal is learn something from them – anything at all.

Fear won’t leave you unless you give them a chance to make a difference in your life.

Fearless people are weak at heart, I guess.  You are stronger once you let fear do its job. You may not want it but it’ll make you a better person. You forget about them making yourself believe that you fear nothing. But that fear is still attached to you, don’t ignore it because it’ll stay there.

Listen to your fear and provide him his cravings but don’t forget who you really are. Don’t be a slave to your fear, befriend it instead. Show that you’re capable of handling them and that you’re your own master.

Fear is a lonely man. Make his existence worth yours.

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