sleep well

Listen.

You’re not wrong for enjoying times with guys. Not all of them are going to last more than memories of a good night. Not all of them will ask for your number. Not all of them will talk to you the morning after. And even if they still do all these things, not all of them will keep talking to you, unless fate smiles upon you and you meet again.

You see you’re young, and being young means having a good time without any attachments, and yet having a good time without being reckless. It means exploring your tastes, diving in deeper into conversations, satire and minds you have never seen before, opening yourself up to a myriad of tumultuous experiences that should shake you up from rock bottom, or leave you where it found you.

Don’t try to hold on so tightly to anything. Just be easy and let it go. Enjoy it for what it is and let it go. Do your own thing, explore in your own way. Don’t be limited in your thought and yet, do not be too generous with it.

Having a boyfriend is okay. Dating is okay. Having a casual fling is okay. As long as your dignity, priorities and self-interests are not compromised, you should have a good time. You should be reserved enough to really highlight the moments when you let your hair down. Be economic with your speech, think before you say it and then when you do, speak to make impressions. When you dance, dance wholeheartedly, warm up a bit, and then really push at the boundaries, don’t be afraid to go for it. It’s a dance, it’s making up for what you can’t say in words, or do with actions.

Don’t feel like you’re constrained. Be open. Be mature. Be bold. Your confidence is beautiful and so are you. You’re only as good as you think you are. You deserve to feel good, as long as you work for it. And you are working for it, so don’t be afraid to be assertive, flirt a little and have some fun.

You’re young. You’re young. You’re young.

unnamed

We seem to be living the blur yet again. We seem to be walking the same damn line. Take me back 10 years. Take me back to the summer where we house hunted, where we ran naked through our pockets in search of pennies to pay for a home.

Shelter is not just an aluminium sheet anymore, the rain seeps in, orders. The mattress you sleep on today has a story, it was stolen. Hungry hands grabbed it away, a bachelor turned it into a wedding bed, and then threw it away when a baby was born. When your baby was born, 18 years ago, was your home small? Or was it large, was it too big to hold? The feeling of having to be a home for another being? Another life you held in the palm of your hand, you would be the hand that fed it, you would be the brush that painted the smile on its face, you would take it to school and help it live.

You would show it the world, a world that was too ugly to be rolled into a diploma, you showed her the chasm between theory and practise. You broke the sound barriers when you educated her with those words.

When i write, i talk at a thousand people at the same time, to a hundred people in a single glance and to a handpicked few in a single breath. Today, its 18 years after. And the both of you are here, another came in between to define the prism of light growing in her womb. And it shone brighter and brighter, but she grew weaker and weaker, and no matter how hard i try and save the hands that taught me how to live for the one that still has to live, age has caught up with you. and although the wise one tells me to be brave about death, how can i when your story has yet to be told? I stay away from it all, I’m sheltered by the walls that enclose me, the wings cover me, and so many others that try escape the shrewd nature of the world that lies beyond the walls of barbed wire, beyond the grizzly screens, and further beyond the pictures in the paper, black and white and red all over.

Still in the midst of all this instability, in the heart of this wall of text, there is a beating fighting young poignant heart. There is a point. Sailing across the gulf that separates us, you come to build me a home. I have a few more years left in me, i still have them. All i can say is I can still step into my Father’s House, I can still look up and praise, and I will still look up with no shame until there is nothing to look up to anymore. For that is how I came into this world, with my head thrown back, and my eyes shut, and my hair covering my ears.

Not the pretty way words are supposed to look on a page, no the beauty you bring is when the intensity of your eyes burns life into every syllable of this prose. When finally you swallow your fears and your pride and every single piece of your mortality that remains and you pause. Your stomach churns, because the hardest thing to admit is that you have reached the end of the page. So until then, i’ll put a stopgap in the inflated importance my generation gives to procrastination, and i will shamelessly waste away my days with you, until all we know is taken from us again, and we will be hurt.

And still from the ashes we shall rise.



Golden children of the sky, you golden children of the sky.

unnamed

this feeling is inescapable.
its in the tips of my fingers,
its in the roots of my hair.
it burns in the palms of my hands,

its everywhere i go,
and nowhere i can't see.

its in the way i walk,
like ice cracking before an avalanche,
or the tingling feeling before the flame hits,
it poisons every string and fibre of my heart
and crushes against the soles of my feet.

its the blackest river that creeps into a virgin stream.
the only sedative to chain the only dream.
its like cocaine.
taking over my blood.
it steals my senses.
no, it bought them over.

i gave in.
with all my knowledge, and my values.
i gave in.
with all my faith, and my religion.
i gave in.
with all my complaints, all my fears and worries.

even if the universe blanketed me in all the stars,
even if the galaxies gave me their immortal colours,
even if the sun burned me down to the shred of an atom.

you'd still see it.
you'd still be able to see the words painted in red, across my face.
i'm on the other side of the line now.

you were never a victim. 
you have fallen.
climb from this bottomless pit.

its called regret.

"this world is not my home"

here i stand,

'free fall'

the rock she built her dreams on
the child he hoped to see aspire
to fight the against the veil
that was drawn over her eyes
to hide her passion, her thirst for justice.

the child grows everyday
and everyday it thirsts to know
which way is right to know which way to go.
there isn't a corner left to hide in,
as time starts to fly in,
all the alarms start ringing,
its the airpatrol,
black the windows out,
snuff the candles,
go to sleep cold and shivering.
unable to decide which breath to take and when.

what do you do with the power of awareness?
it is not to recognise the trouble you're in,
it is not enough to admit your feelings.
"It is not because men's desires are strong
that they act ill; it is because their consciences are weak."

will i come to you even with the storm raging on?
will i walk blindly towards you over the water?
i feel like i'm drowning already,
irony,
the boat that I want to do the rescue?
I got the colour painted, the size mapped out,
I got the dimensions and the crew.

yet, here i stand,
on the bottom of the sea floor.
i'm staring up and i don't know whether i'm supposed to fight the depths to surface
or whether i'm just down here, chain and ball,

mama, am i supposed to escape this?
or am i supposed to push through?
i keep making these mistakes,
its the only way i've ever learned.

when everything is changing,
what do i hold onto?


i'm trying to figure it out.

the special ones

in the middle of all the action,

the lights go off,

and they flicker.

suddenly everything becomes a scramble of limbs,

a snapshot,

a glimpse,

gone.

those are like the memories with you.

with all of you.

digging deeper into the closets of the incubus,

i find that all that i clothed myself with were

the shadows of a life worth living.

the reflections in the mirror

should be worth seeing face to face.

yet, i'm still so confused when it comes to you.

to all of you.

attraction, it's predatory on the rational values of my soul,

it encroaches on the private borders of my mind,

it brings me back to edge,

it tapdances on those lines,

drawn out in chalk,

they're fading.

i'm trying not to seem shifting.

where's the concrete to lay down the slab

on my chest, on my feet, on my hands,

on my heart.

letting the city swallow me.

keeping myself from the everchanging,

still, my mind runs too fast from the cage

it knows too well...

there isn't any life after this hell.

"hell is a state of being" and being in love is "glamourous hell".

let me know when you're being genuine.

when you're really in love.

because all of them felt the same,

so either i'm fickle, or i'm really good at lying.

frustrated

i've tried to get rid of this feeling so many times
i feel like it's just sunken in so deep
i can't find
anything i lost with you anymore
it's should seem like relief
man, i dont know anymore

it's gone from just thoughts
all the way down to my heart,
and now it feels wedged in between my ribs
this problem, that person, this story, that cut

i find it so hard to tell him that i love him
when i'm trembling inside
love might make you stronger
but love can make you cry
hurt is something we both have been so used to
i haven't shed a single tear
i'm trying to be stronger still
i'm feeling all the pressure
and yet i'm holding it in
still why should i have any right to do something like that
at the end of the day am i really going to leave him with that?
how fair is it when we have so little time?
how fair is it when he's so quiet about his heart, yet he's already got mine?
i don't want to screw this one up
so please don't take my silence for distaste
i'm hoping you'll be there for me
unlike the others, who leave before i wake.

i'm just standing here taking wave after wave
nothing is slowing down
nothing is stopping my world from caving in
nothing is swirling around me
it's like i am the debris, floating in empty space

she wasnt there when i needed her
she wasnt there for you either
why do you keep going back to that hurt?
hasn't life taught you? you love and you learn.
what kind of love leaves you crippled and blind,
surely not the type that makes you grow, uh uh not that kind.

i have to accept things are and will always be beyond my control.
but i'm human, i can only take so much.
i feel like i'm going to explode.
and shatter this frame
for this day, please God... no more.