Inveigle.

Has anyone made your heart warm and fluttery, just by you day-dreamin’ up his/her presence?

I guess that’s the same someone that makes you desperately dig up the ground beneath you for courage when you see him/her right in front of you. Someone that makes you unable to hide your smile, the one customized for him/her only. Someone who makes you eat your words before they’re spoken, when your eyes meet. Someone that makes you shy, soft and mushy inside, when he/she flashes a smile it shone through your heart. The dark corners lit up, chasing out the little zombies who stay inside.

But after awhile it gets lonely again. You wished the zombies never left so you could be their friend. A zombie never neglects, unlike that someone. But a zombie never feels or remembers, unlike that someone.

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A Poet’s Words

Each word means more
than what it seems,

The one writing
feel it gleams,

You, the one reading
and what you’re getting,

Multiply it,
and it’s what we’re feeling.

Writing Rhymes

The poet’s words, are a fragment of his soul
Embodiment of emotions, that were left untold.
So upon his words, if your eyes scroll
A lot about him, you can explore.

A poet plays with his rhymes
He weaves words in a way, that’s divine.
His words, his thoughts, glitter & shine
Through his creativity, he hopes to spread smiles.

As he constructs, his fantasy world
Reality to him, sometimes gets blurred.
His words, he creatively twists & turns
Various emotions, through his words, he churns.

With his words, some readers might relate
His words, some readers might find great.
His words, may fall prey, to readers’ hate
Nonetheless, creating rhymes, the creative fool celebrates.

For his words, aren’t governed by laws
His words, don’t seek decorated applause.
His words, just aim to exhibit emotions as art
His words, just seek a place in readers’ hearts.

Note: For a poet…

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Inexplicit.

Do we know the existence of fear because of the existence of love?

Or do we know the existence of love because of the existence of fear?

How do we know the answer,

When we don’t know the definition of either?

Impediment.

“I’ve never fooled anyone. I’ve let people fool themselves. They didn’t bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn’t argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn’t.”

– Marilyn Monroe

It was a real problem. But instead of sitting back and not do anything, instead of being comfortable with this faux attention, I choose to communicate. I choose to put the truth out there, for the likeminded to come forth. I might lose more than I actually gain, but that’s okay. I wanna be known for me, the one who’s truly in there that wants to connect deeply. And if I were to leave the world, I leave knowing I’ve received encouragement and attained courage from people in all different walks of life.
Because I was not afraid, because I tried.

I lived.

Intoxicate.

After twenty odd years of my life,
I finally had one day,
I was so high,
I went to order Mcdonald’s,
Alone for supper.

What’s the big deal right?!

I haven’t ate Mcdonald’s in years.
(In fact, I don’t even remember when I last had it.)

Strangely, with the number of friends I have who love drinking, I never had a time which I drank until I was seriously was decently high and happy. I never did enjoy it fully, since I associate drinking with drama, boomer’s bile, immature boys, missing friends and remembering everything that everyone else forgotten. I have always been pretty hard on myself, telling myself to never get drunk, conduct myself well etc. I’m always super hard on myself, telling myself to never get drunk, conduct myself well etc.

I think I had an amazing breakthrough.

Image.

Through my entire life, I feel like an epitome of a confusing mix of preferences from opposite ends of the spectrum. In which I would plainly explain myself as a pragmatic being trapped in overtly crazy outer shell. I feel extremely energetic with people, or even making new friends and also feel incredibly comfortable with myself.

I would categorize this as an “on-the-fence” personality, whatever person or tests or quiz or analysis always puts me right in the middle of a chart. It was difficult back then when I was at the age of finding my identity.

The most amazing thing and also the strange thing is, I braved insults and judgements on my personality from people of all walks, and each time it made me even more determined to be me. And now, I’ve grown to be at ease with it. The kind of ease my younger would’ve never been able to imagine.

I also had all sorts of friends, neighborhood punks to ace scholars, or even neighborhood punks which turned to ace scholars. I became seemingly aware of what others say of who I was or what I’m like, not because I wanted to improve on my personality, but because I realized there was a major discrepancy with the perception of me and who I truly am. Every single judgement were so way-off. Then, it became a conscious decision to dedicate time to understand myself, my image and how to portray myself better.

But I guess the hardest part to accept here is that there never was one person who knew me through and through. It was hard to relate deeply to another being.

From passion vs paycheck, lust vs love, arts vs business, etc.
I will not choose either.

Thus, I’m an idealist. I will choose the option that appeases both.

And fortunately/unfortunately, nothing falls quite in between.

Interstellar.

“Maybe it’s some evidence, some artifact of a higher dimension that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen in a decade, who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.” – Interstellar

In the mood to romance science.

If love truly prevails, it will transcend time and people can love each other again when we experience a time loop, or perhaps we can continue to be in the state of love for another being now, without being physically involved. Then, is there a possibility that the 5th dimension correlates with experiencing happiness? And that we need to build up a number of platonic love which fulfills that spiritual realm to awaken a sense of deeper being?

Intellection.

“With a memory capacity superhuman, how do I forget the taste of those lips?”
Memory can be a gifted curse.

Ingratiate.

“It’s as if we’re made to move in parallel,” she said.
“It seems to me that he showed there wasn’t a point to fight for me, for us.”

“Well then, what’re you waiting for? Run along.”
I’d just barely concluded my statement when I heard screeching rubber soles from her shoe. It has started raining and there she was, stiff with gaping lips.

I traced her line of sight to a spruce lad, curiously staring at her with a seemingly habitual cheeky smile.

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