When my fears died inside my screams.

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the winged imagery
on my fragile eyes
that have seen worst storm
than my recent smoky synopsis,
died at the right curve
where my crinkles
could never reach
to romance.

yet, I tried to powder
too many lines
worth mentioning on my forehead
to make it look weak,
with fewer metaphors-
to grandeur the already dead soliloquy;

but the color on my lips
take the audience away,
the bright show stopper
arch into a killer smile
that have mastered the
skill of creating an enigma
enclosed in marble stilettos

I have walked in angles
that doesn’t bend to solve
an equation
and now that I have resumed
walking after the crash
in metered sonnets,
I have ever since raised the number
of rhinestones
on my jacket;
each a tattoo of violent hurricane
I tamed.

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Look me in the eye…

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I have forgotten
the hang of writing poetry
as I master my craft
in silencing vowels from breaking out
and taming restless hurricanes in my eyes.

the crumbs dripping from my fingers
form a trail behind my
lethargic pen,
crafting shapes on stained papers,
and the leftover residue
mocks my game
as I crawl behind ellipses.

black petals sprouts
between the cracks in similes,
but I stop at no cost
plastering fake metaphors
at every distinguished rest stops
to mask miseries.

and if yet you are unable to decipher
the depth in the folds of my stare
that ricochet on empty barrels;
you simply speak words
that holds no feelings,
since my words have stopped forming sentences
to ears that hold a smile
behind compassion.

Depression and me

 

 

 

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Only emptiness. The kind where even shadows hide behind the darkness. I can feel it in my bones as I watch the world goes by. My friends and families, they are fluid. Happy. Talking. Moving. They don’t stop neither are they stopping. They move. I can feel it as I watch the silver gates open and close, for traffic and they transcend.

But I, I stop. I survive each second. I breathe, I inhale and scream. But only a moment has passed by. I sit by, arms folded, tears leaking and watch the world. Ten years have gone by and they have made a family, existence, life. While I am still nowhere in the vortex. I don’t even know where they exit are.

Somewhere in the echo, I hear a voice. The silver catastrophe soothing me in between darkness that I am where I am to be, I can win only when the time comes and I will win like no other but it’s been years since I have heard the same monologue. I can’t even answer back.

I scream into nothingness. But my throat goes sore and heart inflates, aching. I rub myself to stop crying but my legs bounce on its own, unable to hold it in. I am fat and disguised but I can’t stop eating and the reason why is; don’t you dare judge me.

You don’t know depression and illness. You don’t get depressed when you break up with someone and you can move and talk around. You don’t get depression if something bad happened and you can process like ever before. You don’t get to know what depression is if you are capable of pulling yourself out from the bed and drink water. You don’t get to feel and know its depth unless you have felt the deep pain in between your collarbones and ribcage.

The feeling of emptiness and darkness combined suffocates and no amount of crying yourself to sleep will help you gather your atoms and walk on. You will end up with a migraine. I ended up in a migraine and the doctors couldn’t find the reason why I am complaining of it every single time I visit him for he knows of the medical term why and when a migraine occurs but my hormonal imbalance and emotional barriers are so shaken up that I couldn’t control myself. I…

Hope seems so far away. Faith keeps me sane. Mother makes me want to stay strong. God makes me want to challenge myself to win. But, I am a single soul with a burdened body. I am not strong enough or powerful enough to swim through another hurricane to challenge myself to see where this is going. I am done being strong. I can’t anymore…

I… have been in this movie for quite some time that the official timing has passed by but my script is nowhere near an end. Nor, does anyone knows how this is going to be concluded. But, I believe sometime in the future it will and I can’t wait anymore.

I wish if I could drag time by a thread and make it come to me earlier than expected, but I know my wishful thinking can’t make me, won’t help me and… I am stuck… I feel like screaming but the physical pain has shackled me up in between overused metaphors and unsaid words. I want to but I can’t. I…

 

The breathing sculpture.

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There she stands in the outer edge corner, shadowed by her comrades, laughing at the joke that was displayed like a medusa head about her pot bellied expression of witless dreams and stained memories that lost its luster with too many sweets.

Once everyone turns to encore the moving articles around them, a tiny colorless melody drips from her eyes that have met and seen many intricate colored metaphors for her lifetime to suck her dry.  She wipes it away without disturbing the graceful black stroke that has outlined her mirror; with the color of her soul.

And she stands, with her hands crossed and legs slightly titled like a moon unsure of how he should come out for the party tonight. Her dress hangs loose and the stretched her already curved impression making her hard to breathe as the hues in front of her laugh; choking her to death.

She dances in the bathroom mirror, squeezing arrhythmic steps into her overloaded heart and the beat just jarred the cacophony even further.

Yet, with her renewed makeup and strength; she rises like a phoenix with a smile to kill soldiers in their best armor. Yet, when alone in the sanctuary of her confinements, she lost all her lustrous rhinestones to the sky who cried with her that night.

Everyone admired the starry skies.

Somehow I miss the spark.

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the dancing orbs in front of me

sing a song, in the rain,

I hear the rat a tap

that resonates through my brain

 

why do I feel like the morning is so far away

when the moon has only come.

 

oh its right,

I have not had my night time caffeine,

that makes me sane

even with my bloodshot eyes.

 

the scandalous moon light

break through the torrent of my saved tears,

and when I find the stars-

I am too late into the abysmal song…

too wasted to even smile

when the moon comes shaking her hands with me.

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I am so drunk with boredom and this is… just at the moment write. laugh with me or say I am foolish but don’t come preaching me I am wrong and worse 🙂 Let’s be friends in praising each other’s weirdness 😉

Nothing better to do.

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So, I was just like, sitting here in the rain at one am in the morning, waiting for some miracle to take me far away from my sinister thoughts and decaying metaphors and wished to open a new blog to write my musings alone and stop my former one; i.e, this one. But, upon reaching here I saw, I have two new followers and that makes me 75 followers, not bad!

But, I never began this blog with the intention of more followers, fame or something like that. I just made this blog to post in my shitty musings of a poem and look if I can impress people. Most of my life, I was like that and I am still now… wondering, waiting, wishing, for people’s support, suggestions, encouragement and good luck. I still want them and when I get a comment saying something genuinely, I still skip a beat.

And I am still confused, mad and cold. My mom is sleeping and in fact, everyone is sleeping. But, I am here, sitting, eating a snickers bar, alternating between writing a horror paranormal book and writing this blog. I don’t even know why I am writing this in the first place, but… here I am, still continuing and I wonder if people will read this. What will they think after reading this? Oh, that reminds me, I still can’t like and follow certain people.

It sucks to be stuck in a loophole of doing the same things and never once stepping out from the giant wheel but dare not advise me to make a move since ever since I knew I am stuck and circling; I have tried to break out but I am still here… in this forsaken hour, writing something that is not what I wanted to when I began this blog post.

WOW…

sigh!

 

G’night or G;morning 🙂

…and my cries died in the wails of nature’s misery…

 

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I am bound by the cartilage of winter’s eerily molded teardrops that drop once in a while as if a reminder pinning on my eyelashes saying, careful- my family’s on the way to cheer you up this dull gray morning.

As if that doesn’t deprive me of the beautiful things that I could be but didn’t choose to.

The dawn does weep Christmas wishes and I hear laughter echoing through the plain walls of my house, from miles apart; and the unmistakable giggling of over enthusiastic children.

My heart couldn’t bear anymore the rhyming of two rhythmic soul’s catapulting in each other’s calligraphic aura through rosy hues.

I draw unbroken heart shapes in the breath of ‘nature’s’ long echoing sigh on my bleary window but was easily mastered by another wave of agonizing misery of her wailings.

I lost the last heart again.

And after umpteenth effort, I stretch my sleeves hard enough to cover my finger tips listening numbly to the ripping of my heart. This sweater covering my feeble body from the desecrated cold has seen its better days. So, I ignore her protest in wanting to cover my fingers.

Somehow I feel like a mannequin stuck inside a clock; unable to move without being slapped by the needles.

And you are a parchment paper in which I have written my suicide notes as a will to the roses that have stopped whispering my name in your hands… but you give me them anyways since you can’t bear the thought of the thorn piercing into your bones, tattooing my tragedy.

Dear silence, bid me farewell to the moon where shadows don’t backbite and bicker.

Let me paint melancholy in the desolate part of the night sky and die a bluish death… so that I can smile happily believing that I just stopped becoming a story as the ink died in my veins.