journey through

I should have known You called in and said you needed a shoulder. You said you were crumbling and needed a place to vent. I should have known. I should have known you would in no time be lost in the clouds of delusional self-importance. Like a drifter to his bottle and a bee to its flower, I held on to you, little knowing that after a night’s drinking I would wake up with a hangover. I should have known that the petals could no longer sustain the bee during the dry season. Who was I to believe the bottomless well of the rainy season would stand in the drought? I should have known to leave early before love turned me into a man full of laments and sniffs of self pity. How did you expect me to write you a letter, when my eyes were too teary to see the pages? How did you expect me to love back when you left me in love alone? I should have known that I could have lived without you. I should have known that I could dream without thinking of you. Tell me, you unbeliever how a man ...

I am a sinner Father I have walked for miles, hot sand on my feet and a hot sun on my head. I have looked around for a shade or a little oasis but none. If I say I’m tired, are you going to give me rest? I am a sinner, battered, bruised and bloody. I would want to walk down the broken road again. So tell me father, will I find you waiting at the end of the lane? Will you clothe my naked body? Will you give me a pitcher to quench my thirst? Father, I am a broken door knob, are you going to fix me? Will thy rod and staff comfort me? The chains on me are getting heavier and the yoke getting harder to pull. I have realized how vain my ambitions have been, for I thought I would find it easier to let the flesh have its way. How foolish I was, lord, to believe that I had crossed the mountain so I could walk the plains alone. How short-sighted I was to believe I could see what I wanted with my life yet I didn’t even own it. There is a storm brewing in the horizon, if I call unto you, ...

Whoever runs in the mud should always be ready to skid, a bargain we all made when we ran into the world of hearts and petal roses, or is it? In this world, we came to realize that roses are as prominent as are thorns. In this world of hearts, pink on the outside but black with ire on the inside, magic finds its true meaning, both negative and positive. What we thought was selflessness turns into an epidemic bout of selfishness, and what was a haven of peace and comfort morphs into a warzone. Appreciation for each other’s goals turns into a cultivated field of jealousy and unhealthy competition, a marathon where one’s fall spurs the other to go faster, one man less increases the chances of the runner winning the race. So it a relationship built out of love, convenience or societal pressure? The best photographs are those taken when people are still, all the more reason why memories have shadows in them. When a person falls into the world of fluffy pillows with stones underneath,...

The love of my life The love of my life is broken. I can see her seated near the fireplace, her eyes etched into the distance, dead to life all around her. She sees me in the faraway though I am right before her eyes. Our love is now a shell with all its yolk poured out to the stray dogs in the street. Our story starts with ‘once upon a time’ but that does not make it in anyway a fairytale, just a past marred with mistakes and lessons unlearnt. The love of my life has been widowed though I am still alive and kicking. On our anniversary she does not want my roses, she prefers a wreath. She does not want from me a sweet love poem. She prefers a condolence note, because she has walked beyond the grave and there is no turning back. Maybe I should have slept by her yester night, maybe I should never have walked away without telling her I was out. Maybe I should have seen earlier and told her she had beautiful eyes when they were still alive, before they turned grey and pale. But ...

The ballad of pain The ballad of pain, I sing with a heavy heart and a light tongue. My heart is weak, how can I carry the burned of love? My tongue has grown weary and my feet bruised and blistered. What is this pain that the essence of sage cannot rub away? If I had a means I would run and leave everything behind, but how can you run away from your own shadow? My soul is beyond salvation and redemption. My pain is beyond herbs and essences. Why didn’t they who had love never told me how hard it was to lose it? Why didn’t they warn me to keep away from it? All I have now is daydreams filled with teeth and nightmares draped in soft pillows. Kill me softly, I pray, but I am a goner anyway aren’t I? I am lost to the world and my senses, waiting to explode when the end comes calling. I thought I was a hero out to save her soul but I lost mine instead. Why can’t I love my tears of acid? Let them burn my eyes away so I cannot see the sun rise tomorrow. Let my heart break, nay shatt...