I am unfamiliar with such coquetries. Yet, you (with such great allure) urge me forward.
To an awkward extent, that of wild amazement and foreign flavours.
Oh, what of this? Such piquant opportunity presents itself in the form of self abandon.
Perhaps the view from here is worth the fall?
When the time comes you will see
The darkness that’s befallen you, the tragedy
But for now, you’re stuck in your world of melancholy
The blistering storm has passed, but you still weep
Over frail fingers and a cracked lower lip
Over raw eyes and a shattered heart
Tears hit the ground, you know you’re falling apart
But you never thought this would happen to you
This wistful feeling that you are going through
It entraps and entangles you in it’s virulent cycle
Tying you down with an intangible manacle
And all you’ll have, is your transgression
A feeling of obscure aggravation
This is the emotion, known as depression.
To see, as in to fancy. To imagine, as in to dine al fresco by the moonlit river; savouring the most elegant of delights from each other’s forks. To feel, as in to recognize the lilliputian patterns of your behaviour whilst jointly bedridden by the cardiopathy that is love. To give, as in to subject myself to martyrdom. To take, as in to erase letters from your name, fashioning a sobriquet.
To love you. A chef-d’oeuvre.
All his kith and kin
watched in silent despite.
As he paid for his sin
strapped down tight.
The surge, the power
it was his final hour.
Callous fingers pointed in his direction
violent charges and malignant smiles.
He was the villian of their perfection
incensed shouts and prejudiced trials.
The surge, the power
it was his final hour.
Eyes averted, knees grounded
i hope you come to regret.
Actions bounded, conviction unfounded
i hope you never forget.
The surge, the power
it was his final hour.
Scapegoat, whipping boy
we will have none of that!
Helpless victim of a vicious ploy
we will have none of that!
Dreaded journey down the aisle
evident innocence, “i want to smile”
“i dont care” said the nonchalant hostile.
All his kith and kin
watched in silent despite.
As he paid for his sin
strapped down tight.
The surge, the power
This was his finest hour.
And he smiled.
Even the most magnificent of edifices would crumble under fateful conditions. Stalwart heroes would garner envy from the common man, had they really existed beyond flamboyant words penned by prehensile men and women of literature. I am no hero.
I have waged this war far beyond what I can expend. The debt weighs heavily upon me and I can only construe surrender. Your recent query has left me spiralling beyond sensibility; Lost outside thresholds. I am defeated.
Tiny hands clasped in the shape of a heart, everlastingly enshrined in wax. I am prostrate.
Time plays the providential surgeon. Weaving sutures through my despondence, with steady hands and unwavering pace.
Thus, the wild blue yonder resplendent beyond measure would once again be my minstrel.
So here is my hand, not words said desperately.
Drenched with sorrow
Dreading the dawn of tomorrow
Enter the palace of enmity
Cut your feet on broken shards of serenity
Bleed your pain,
cry in vain.
Tears deplete,
hatred complete.
Crawl through the suffocating sheets of morbidity
Coming into the clear of blanketed mendacity
The invention of joy still far from where i stand
Trust easily shattered by the traitor’s hand
Time still in motion,
love found after devotion.
Lost and not found,
hurt in the rebound.
Following the path of past forgotten
Falling through the spiral of lives rotten
Under the bridge of glory arcane
Walk along the river of mundane bane
Live for the day,
die in dismay.
See the light,
uncover the plight.
Walk down the staircase in a hurry
to escape this bedevilling worry
Enter a room familiar to my mind
this place, to my heart, it was unkind
Ignorance consumes,
the insecure assumes.
Victim of self-destruction,
the human seduction.
And then i see you, standing next to me
your face in precarious placidity
Your lips open gently, as echoes resound
the words that are spoken… are very profound…
You said “i love you”…
and it was at that moment
that i knew.
That this was just a dream
that i was going through.
It was vague yet astounding; you would plague my dreams with your presence. And i would speak to you, in hushed amative tones and in loud exasperating vociferations all at once.
And i would wake with a heaved sigh of surrender. My mind was decided but i would fail, faltering like a candle flame against squalls conjured by necessity pertaining to your eudaimonia. I can only say that things were never meant to be this way, yet i cannot tell you exactly how it should have come to pass.
So perhaps, it is not fair to ask (rather rhetorically), why this is so painfully difficult?
In transit we feel alone amongst many
freedom of thought like never before
In transit our beings remain stationary
over traffic and distances we soar
I look to the sky for inspiration
hoping it doesnt stare blankly back
Magnificent colours, immaculate creation
making me feel as if i’m on the right track
The black hollow quickly consumes
furious howls and vacant faces
accompany me through the dark
Extrinsic shadows glissad beyond the glass
igniting wild fire thoughts of memories gone and past
In transit we feel alone amongst many
freedom of thought like never before
In transit our beings remain stationary
wishing to be solitary nevermore
Even in the most prosaic of lives, it is almost a certainty that we would encounter newfangled situations that would baffle us and leave us looking rather ridiculous as we figure things out. Yet, it is crucial that we understand that the absurd is the essential concept and the first truth; before we can look beyond idle nuances and realize that the beauty behind each and every challenge is infact the satisfaction of surmounting it.
I digress, i am not here to preach the wonders of triumph over odds.
For someday, i will greet you with the same affection that i afford the most pleasant of my company.
Someday, i will smile as i reminisce our romance, set against bright alabaster skies above our elysian fields.
Someday, on pristine lawns we will dance at your wedding before i yield your hand to the groom.
But for now i tumble and fall, into chasms with no end. I will not cry, and i will not curse…
For someday, i know someone will catch me.
Last night i fell apart at the place where the blue lights reflect above us.
Last night will be mine to hold for all eternity and you will never again take anything from me.
Last night the love died and the loathe was born.
Last night i took my heart back and i will guard it with my affliction from hence forth.
I do not speak solely for myself when i say how effortless it is to fall into habit. This is my ulterior motive. My satsifaction.
We sit by the bay, my laces in countless knots and your eyes gleaming with the moonlight. The street signs have failed us, we have lost our way and the rain falls softly on our hands; barely touching.
Beneath the air-conditioner, your fringe would sway across your eyes; the same way it did many years ago atop the sky garden. I could only sink into my seat as the night rushed past my reflection, for you had responded to my farce with your usual deplorable quiddity. Time has not changed you… you were still as wildly exotic to me as you were before.
Indeed it was a complete waste of time debating the peripheries of abstract art when we should have been discussing the more impending issue that urges us to look beyond all criterion of reason and to come to grips with reality before its exodus commences; leaving us to spectate in languid apprehension as it breaks from skeletal cages crafted by human insecurity. There in which I discover myself willfully surrendering myself to your mellisonant arguments. With the aspirant wish that the conversation would continue. Hoping that perhaps I might chance upon unrequited confessions that I ached to hear. Intentionally subjugating myself to serendipity and a myriad of other probabilities.
The gambit was a success and we proceeded to talk of other more carefree things, such as suicide and music. I expressed my condescending opinion on compassion in a despairing reply to your brazen fantasies of irenic demise.
We had talked much while the world withered to a faltering placidity, almost entirely blanketed by the quiescent twilight. Beguiled by an amorous cycle of splendid euphony, I could not find the volition to verbalise my need to depart.
I absconded with the realization that the corollary of such blatant dalliance would be an upsurge of random emotions pushing me in a vehement fashion to either absurd ire or steadfast melancholy.
It would be a long walk home.
I must admit. I am divided.
However, i will not accede to envy and desolation, for i am underoath for time uncertain.
And till then, I will be your varlet.
It has only been hours since the torrent, but i no longer feel wretched. In the wake of what would have been my devastation, i find an almost elysian repose tantamount to the Shawshank redemption.
We had spoken earlier this day due to my need for abrasive closure, but your eagerness to accept province and hark my jeremiad has left me feeling content and willing to pardon. The victim of this calamity is no longer here, and as such apologies and regrets are no longer of relevance.
I am overwhelmed. I do not know why i feel this way, but i strongly believe it is for the best.
In memory of us, i can still afford one more act of altruism. I will not let you fall.
