The burden is here.
It’s in every life forgotten.
It’s in the table you sit on to contemplate the misery you carry.
What’s life when it’s wasted on someone else’s welfare?
Everything we’ve given, we’ve given for the temporary.
A drink in your hand.
“You’ve been here before?”
You gulp down your drink “What are we here for?”
Toiling away to time only to be erased fifty years later.
And I’m too much of something gone to even attempt another day with the living.
there’s
nothing left
of me
so
must
i
sit here
and think this through
again
and
again?
wretched
skin!
i want to
claw it out of me
if i am to choose
to live
another day.
what must i do or say to convince you?
covered mirrors and dimmed lights.
dead, dead, dead.
that is what you must be.
Death befallen.
Death to me; wilt I wait by the mountains and see?
People should be more careful with their words.
When it slips out of your tongue, it leads straight to mine.
And they turn into echoes you yell along to in the middle of the night.
Under the eclipse, insecurity settled its teeth deep within my flesh.
Now all I’ve become is bones of regress.
Ultimately arriving at the conclusion of a quiet death.
My heart is not entirely broken and the reasoning is you.
Though for the longest while it has not been whole as it once used to be,
take heed in the knowing that half of my heart is still beating because I have you.
So when you feel as if you are not doing enough,
and your worries are still intact,
rest easy my love for you are all there is to keep me going.
busy steps in crowded pavements.
on with the work, they think to themselves.
not a life to live for but not much can be done
when you’re trapped in a thoughtless game never won.
so few tilt their heads and look at it questioningly
when higher echelons strive off of our success and failures mercilessly.
“up the ladder they go!”, we cheer on bitterly.
then why — why give blame to whomever vulnerable?
unfairly treated, belittled, and to put all fault in
yet never to those who presented it?
never to those who put them there?
they work just as much as us.
twice as much as miserable, thrice still not being enough?
apparently, to be not treated human
is when you’re not being paid enough.
equals do not exist here.
we have moneyed people to adhere.
as our misery escalates,
i do wonder of a world where we finally choose to save each other.
we were never kings.
we rarely lived and we break.
they have their golden swords;
blissfully unaware of what is being said.
we are a series of bearings;
forlorned and opaque.
there aren’t enough words
to describe how truly i’ve been dead.
I.
A room full of people I barely know,
and then there’s you.
Eyes so blue;
I cannot take it upon myself to look away.
You impart smiles and move in kind gestures
to those need be entertained.
Words spoken so eloquently
to each individual in the room.
I write those words like letters
as though they were meant for me.
Anytime there’s the slightest glint of you walking my away,
you’re suddenly somewhere else.
Yet we swayed ourselves
into each other’s lives,
only so briefly.
A kind of love that ended so soon.
Alive in that singular evening,
then nonexistent by morning.
The only tenderness I’ve ever come to know
is of that cloudy still midnight
when for the briefest of moments,
I meant something to you.
II.
The heavy heartbreak,
unspoken words, and feigned gestures.
We think like letters we never send.
For all the titles I’ve chased for greed,
I could have at least took the time to reiterate the spirit of that winter’s night.
Alas, I chose without depth.
I went along where you weren’t.
Gave away the labour of something new.
Stolen glances are what our lost love came to be.
As almost lovers — we’ve come to be.
Your delicate brown eyes
sharply piercing through my lull skin.
It’s you, just you that’s left me undone.
There is this vigorous urge to outlive
so much of this hurt.
It sways violently like a sailing boat in
the midst of a restless thunderstorm.
And I’m consumed by its cataclysmic ways.
The tedious goings and knowings,
and goings and knowings.
When one can only afford less,
you get by with what little in yourself you have left.
The thought of that overwhelms me, like a damaged boat
consumed whole by a hungry hurricane.
And now
I’m just… dying,
dying
to go
home.
Wherever that is.
defeat in springs.
wayfarers moseying in delight.
only i to have felt loneliness with an old friend.
surveying the many acquaintances in daylight
i have noticed all success is they.
grounded with so much rapture.
then there is i,
stowed to nowhere.
for chased triumphs is of bittersweet,
none have i had the privilege to hold.
was i to be left unequaled
in the bass of everyone else’s victory?
as i live through the withdrawals of great sanguinity,
i have to unlearn and erase a part of myself
in which was the sole cause of my obsolete.
in these passing moments,
i had shed ample tears of all that was lost in me.
but, even when mourning the severity of these losses,
all the tethered daydreams still tethered.
the lady still awaits for the green ray.
I want to seek the world in a bird’s eye view;
To feel the sky against my olive-coloured skin.
Centuries I yearn to pass-through.
Alight my way to the cosmos of when.
The semblance of the sky’s touch.
Clouds surging it’s way like water
All over my figure.
As I stay afloat, as I stay afloat.
Above all of you,
Above the flickered lights.
But you cannot witness, you do not see.
And when all’s well and done,
I glide my way to the interstellar.
Let me wander in galaxy’s unknown;
The kind of eternal life I seek for the better.
The rare contentment of life led alone
Is to witness all the world, the galaxies, and spaces in between.
To afloat afar in distant skies, stars, quasars,
And explore the violet hue yonder.
Everywhere and nowhere.
Exist to not exist.
This is life.
This is the eternal glow.
This is what alone should feel like.
