Love is only a social construct

Love is only a social construct, stemming from the selfishness of the human nature.
Love is a social construct, which puts people in a state of bliss, to hide from them the ugliness of reality, and themselves willing to be blinded.
Love is but an excuse to hold on to something, fearing the change, the despair and the solitude.
And if in survival we have evolved to such a complex race, then love would be humankind's downfall

Flowers

I see a pretty flower
swaying with a sigh.
I stopped and bent over,
giving a kiss and asked why.
She bowed her head shyly
with moisture in the eyes.
Then I plucked her up gently
and showered her with lies.

It really made me smile
when the tears are gone.
Like crawling a million miles;
Feeling the battle's won.
I kept her in a beautiful vase
made of fine china and gold.
It seemed such a waste
if I didn't have her to hold.

"Nothing lasts forever!" she cries,
a line for eternity true.
Ironic! For that line never dies,
and forever now I'm blue.
My flower's all wilted and dried,
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Well, at least I tried,
as I plod on into dusk.

Requiem of Frustrations

He can't pin this feeling down
He feels frustrated
But he can't seem to see what is frustrating him
But he's keeping a damn calm and cool straight face
He close my eyes and he sees himself crunching up inside,
yet it's not imploding,
like something is holding it up.
He believes it's Patience
but the tension is tearing him up inside.
The crushing feeling, yet never imploding.

Fairy Tales

He is a jaded boy, filled with despair and dejection.
The many setbacks and disappointments he has faced with nary a reason,
served as a bleak reminder of his still naive mind; a harsh lesson that taught him Reality.
But, deep down, he still believes that it's not all true, and the ways of the world is not all that bad.

He is an unloved boy, filled with anger and resentment.
The many courtships he has attempted all amounted to naught.
Disbelieved that people always choose otherwise; Mocked by the Providence's dry humour,
Yet, the depths of his heart holds true to Unconditional Love.

He is still just a boy, never growing a day older than he is.
He still lives in the shadows of the deceased, the past where Ideals fluttered around like spawning butterflies.
He is still enthralled by the beauty of the sight, but never realising that the wasps had stung him all over.
Hence, he'll never grow up, bearing the brunt of the world with Fairy Tales chained tightly on his legs

Epic battle

have to clean bathroom.

cat had epic battle with lizard last night.

so there's bits of the loser all over the place.

Hermitism

The small dim speck was growing. Slowly but steadily, it became like a flickering candle in the darkest corner of a windowless room.
Before long, it became like a strong white LED torch, becoming rather painful to the eye to stare at.
And it was still growing.
It wasn't just growing in it's intensity, it was also growing in size. It became more than a speck, it was now quite impossible to see beyond its horizon, not to mention even being blinded by it.
And suddenly, it imploded.
Like God who decided to end all creation in the snap of his fingers, the painful growth of this speck suddenly came to nought. It zoomed back to its minute beginnings; the overbearing luminescence reduced to a mere glow that a firefly would put to shame.
And at the instant of that Great Shrinking, I felt the suffocating blackness take over. As I lost my breath, I could feel the tremendous pressure left behind by the vacuum of the Shrinking. I held on to everything for dear life: the thin thread that dangles my sanity, the frail sapling that roots my rationality, the loose sand that is the very essence of my soul.
And as sudden as the Shrinking, I imploded too, feeling entirely withdrawn and hermit-ised

Dream

The blue sky was lined with white, cotton clouds. The sun was bright but it wasn’t burning hot. Instead, the whole weather had a slight post winter cool to it.

And in this beautiful weather, I had in my hands a book. I have no knowledge where it came from, but judging from the contents (of which I was to read later), I could infer that someone had given it to me, and exactly who.

Scanning around, it seemed I was in this endless sea of green grass, swaying in the gentle breeze like the lull of tolling waves over a calm ocean.

There was no one in sight, not even the faintest silhouette of civilization as far as the eye could see.

How did I get here? How did I obtain this book?

I wish I knew certain things.

Flipping through the book would be the most obvious thing to do and I began reading it.

The first page was a love letter, written to an anonymous person, written with such passion and feeling that I inevitably felt touched and could not help but assume the receiving end of this affection. And it was signed off by, of all people, G, the lady I’m preoccupied with.

The instant I saw her name, my heart raced as my brain fired up all its neurons at once.

So somehow, she had given me this book and disappeared. She had somehow vanished into thin air, given that the vast, endless expanse of this grassland had no trace of anyone walking away.

And in that book, she wrote of love.

The excitement drove me beyond the edge of reasoning. The mystery of how I got the book (or even how I ended here) disintegrated like dandelions scattered by the wind.

I read on feverishly. It seemed like a cookbook of sorts; pastries, cakes and chocolates; yet interspersed with journal entries aside from the cooking instructions.

The entries were anonymously written with no mention of names, and the only hint of anything was the reference of “me” and “you”. The entries spoke of the days that has passed before; days of joy, happiness, passion and love. Yet these days mentioned were unfamiliar to me. The more I read these entries, the more confused I felt.

Did these happen? Did I live a life I never knew?

As I read on, I felt as if the clear day descended on me like a thick foreboding fog. A grey ghostly mist of vagueness and suffocation, a dreamlike blur within a dream. I flipped on trying to comprehend, trying to beat the cloud that was enveloping me when all of the sudden, the next page cleared everything

The sky was blue and bright, and the grass was swaying to the breeze’s lullaby.

The next entry had “me”, “you” and my name. Despite spotting those, I did not manage to catch what was written.

I wish I knew certain things.

As it dawned on me that I had poorly assumed the previous entries to have been directed at me, my world shifted in an instant.

I was now at a crowded swimming pool with the most surrealistic (even in a dream) setting that I have ever been in.

The pool was huge but shallow, and there were a million people, if not more, all over the place.

And there were people cycling, real bicycles, midwaist in the water.

I was swimming around underwater with the agility of a penguin and unlimited breath, meandering amongst the columns of legs and spoke wheels.

With no idea of what I was doing or going, I surfaced a few times and I would catch fleeting glimpses of G, weaving in and out of the crowd. Sometimes appearing to my left, but I would catch her disappearing on my right. My eyes dodged all over the place, trying to focus on her, but she would always, cunningly, teasingly, remain in the peripherals of my sight.

And as I tried and tired to catch her, a nagging thought kept pounding at the back of my head. The pounding was getting harder and louder, and it seemed to sound like a muffled scream, a scream telling me that G’s boyfriend was somewhere around.

The confusion, the chaos, the crowd, the mess, the noise, the ghost of G and the pounding. The incessant pounding. Louder and louder.

It became all too overwhelming as the pounding drowned everything out.

And I was going mad.

Then I woke.

My alarm had reached its maximum volume.

I laid in bed, thinking of my dream. A bittersweet dream.

What could it mean? What is it trying to tell me? Had it any relation in what I have decided to do? Or was it hinting at what I have decided not to do?

I wish I knew what the last entry said.

I wish I knew certain things.

Losing My Religion

A::

I guess religion is the best way to make money

B:

Erm

B:

Ok...

A:

Kidding

B:

Whatever turns u on baby

A:

ism sounds awesome

A:

First commandment, marriage is not an institution

A:

Second commandment, everyone shall love everyone else in all aspects including sex

B:

Go back to the 60s you hippie

A:

GASP

A:

You discovered the basis of my religion

A:

Paganism is on a come back I tell you

A:

Embrace before it's too late

B:

lol

B:

It's called free love man

B:

When they wore loose clothes and didn’t cut their hair

A:

Do not mock the revival of the free love movement

A:

Join my religion before it's too late

B:

Sounds more like a cult

A:

If it didn't occur to you, Christianity started very much on a cult status

B:

True

B:

Oh well

A:

Consider this my last warning

B:

But I'm not subscribing to your religion

B:

Sorry

A:

Dammit

A:

Wait

A:

The best part of my religion

A:

Is

A:

There are no subscription fees

A:

No 10% of your income shit

B:

HAHAHAHAHA

B:

Ya

B:

But right now I don’t pay any other those also

B:

And life is good

B:

So why join you?

A:

Cos it's free love

A:

Ask and you will be given

B:

Given what?

A:

Erm

A:

Largely sexual services

A:

LOL

B:

LOLOLOL

A:

Ok, I’m losing my case here

A:

Let me redraft my religion

B:

I concur

B:

Ok

B:

Come back when it’s redone

Burn out?

He knew that he had to work. He also knew he had to understand his work. So, everyday, his list of agenda basically was work and understanding his work. It was a simple list, easy to follow. In fact, with just two items, he didn't think it was too difficult carrying out his tasks.

Everyday was easy. Work. Understand. It's so easy, he would find unprecedented levels of productivity.

However, of late, he noticed that he couldn't find that productivity. Somehow, it didn't feel like before where he could get alot done. He thought: could it be that he has completed the two tasks, that his unproductivity was because there was nothing to be done?

He asked around for more work, but somehow after some searching, it seemed his work and understanding his work was still on his list.

Funny. He kept searching and he overheard a word which he had never heard before in his vocabulary.

"Burnout"

Was it something that happens to people that combust spontaneously?

He thought that would be cool.

Nonsensical conversations between hurting body parts.

The shoulder blade wasn't feeling too good. It felt a little sick, yet it wasn't really sick enough to warrant a MC from a doctor. It just had to grit it's teeth and bear with the nauseous feeling. But it just had to bitch to something else about it intense discomfort.

"Hey tailbone"

"Uhhhhh.....damn....yeah, what's up?" groaned the tailbone.

"You sick too?"

"Kinda. Took a really shitty fall the other day. Now I don't feel like I'm alive," replied the tailbone while it flexed itself around to ensure that it's existence in this mortal plane was still justified.

"Crap. I'm feeling like shit too. But it's been like that for nearly 4 months odd," complained the shoulder blade. It just had to entrench itself in a worse position than the tailbone. It's only natural for them to fight for sympathy.

"Right, enjoy your recovery then. I think I'm going to be pretty much alive in another few days. Let me know how long more you are going to feel like that shoulder blade."

Crap. So much for sympathy.

Floods and Fires

He stepped into the burning bright sun.
And it really burns. So hot the sun had seared into his skin that he bagan to feel each and every cell in his body writhing in agony of the blazing fire.

Yet yesterday, it was raining cats and dogs.

Already half his life had drowned then.

Happiness is

I am slowly becoming sick;
it's not a disease that any doctor can treat.
Yet I want to embrace this condition
and integrate it as part of me, my body, my life.
It wouldn't be a disease anymore.
And when I have fully assimilated it, then
whatever suffering that comes,
will be my joy.
Whatever hurt it deals,
will be my wine.
Whatever pain it inflicts,
will be my fun.
Whatever agony it brings,
will be my delicacies.
Soon, as the disease takes over my mind,
I wouldn't know what is
suffering,
agony,
pain or
hurt anymore.
And then I will be truly
Happy.

Blood

As the blood erupted from the punctures, the vampire let it flow down the sensuous curves of her neck.
He wasn't hungry for blood at the moment. Instead, he relished the sight of this beautiful body in the throes of ecstacy.
And as the thick warm blood streamed down around her breasts, she let out a moan of pleasure and excitement, serving only to titillate the vampire further...

A dream that never ends...

I dreamt of this dream. It was the craziest dream I have ever had. I was quite myself in that dream, except, I had tears hanging off the corner of my eye. Yet no matter how hard I blinked or rubbed my eyes they stuck there like two drops of glue, always on the verge of falling. The tears made my sight constantly blurred and everything I saw in my dream was like a dream in itself. My hair was long, longer than it should have been as I would have had it cut before it ever got that long. And it was white with wisps of gray woven into it like an intricately designed piece of silk; my hair, in my dream, felt like silk. My hair reminded me of the soft dusty color and texture of ashes from a cigarette; all burned out and gone with the wind.

I wasn't old and full of sorrow though. In that dream, I was actually young and energetic despite my looks, always feeling on the edge for some new adventure. It felt like I was pumped full of adrenaline and caffeine; a bull waiting on the gates just to charge at the matador. My hair despite the length and color was tied up into a ponytail with everything combed back tight. In my dream, I felt just like how I would feel in reality physically. Right now.

I wasn't sad either; In that dream, I wasn't filled with despair and dejection. As a matter of fact, in that dream, there seemed to be no negative emotions. You could read a dictionary front to back and never find a word to define anything distressing. In that dream, I was experiencing a happiness that is beyond my understanding. I had tears that would not shed and a sense of joy I could not comprehend, a combination which only served no other purpose than to toy with my emotions and confuse it. Yet there wasn't anything negative available for me to justify the emotion, so it would only rationally mean that it was happy. But the emotional confusion would not consent that, and slowly I was tearing up, my contorted face a smile that reflected agony rather than joy. Yet there was nothing sad in my dream.

But a dream was a dream, and that tearing literally tore me awake. It had felt so real: I felt just like that physically, I felt happy and I felt that there was nothing distressing around me. It felt like I had never slept but instead, was living an alternate life as myself a night. So real the dream was that I begin to suspect whether it was a dream at all, and the only reason for it to be a dream, was the agony which tore me awake. I think I was awake as I actually contemplated whether I was asleep and the pain was only a dream, or I was awake and I searched my soul and dug up some hidden cache of hurt.

In fact, that "dream" began to freak me out as when I opened my eyes, I noticed that everything was blury, and I felt tears stuck at the corner of my eye. I shut my eyes and didn't dare to open them again as I recalled that in the "dream", I couldn't remove those tears. And in fear, I kept them closed till suddenly, I think I am dreaming again. My eyes are wide open and there was no tears in them. They sky outside my window was dull grey with rain. My hair was jet black and I felt physically myself. I felt happy amidst the darkening clouds and amplifying thunder. I thought I was dreaming again. Then again I thought: Or was I awake? I began to tremble in fear and cold, and got out of bed (Awake? or in my dream?) to write this down. I began like this,

I dreamt of this dream. It was the craziest dream I have ever had...

Fools Rush In

Wise men say that only fools rush in;
and only fools could become such wise men
to dispense such ingenious advice.