Singular Syllables

what i want right now is to be loved by all the souls on earth, and for my life to be as full of joy as i dream it is at night.

what i want right now is to kiss the palms of all the weak and small and hurt and lost,
and make all the wrongs of “us” flow by like the stream you knew as a child but you did not swim in it,
for fear of what you did not see.

what i want right now is for all the youth to laugh as one and wave at all the fools who went to war.

“no more death, please.”
we will say.
“we will live to see the end.”

Butterfly

I lay in bed and watched the sunrise today;

I remember how you promised me that we could do that one day. I never really thought about the past until now, I think maybe I only remember the good times, lying in your arms and watching you tell a story, I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone that much.

You gave me toothache, I didn’t understand for ages, but then one day I realized what you meant, I never gave you toothache, I’m sure you said it to make me special, you always made me feel special, even just the way you would hug me, or talk to me when I was with my friends, I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve never loved someone so much.

I remember the time you described me, told me what I looked like in your eyes, and you used such beautiful words I swear butterflies flew from your lips, and your eyes, so brown and deep, I could have stared into them for days, I never thought you would love me, but you swore you did, and the way you stared into me, I knew you could see my heart, I knew you knew me more than anyone else.

Maybe we were young and foolish, I mean I knew it wouldn’t last, deep inside me I knew, but I also knew that I loved you, what I felt, Ohh it was so special, and even now, I have never felt a love like it, but I suppose that’s part of being a teenager young and free, no worries no stress, just drunk on love and cherry wine.

I was going through a box the other day, and I found a photo of you and I, we were sitting on a wall, two stupid kids in love, I remember when it got taken, you whispered something in my ear, I forget now, but it was so funny, and we are in the photo grinning like Cheshire cats, so so happy, what happened, I don’t remember now, I remember the tears though, afterwards, I swore my whole world fell apart, maybe it was my fault, I think it probably was, I remember the guilt, sometimes feelings don’t fade with time, like some wounds don’t heal, and love, love stays in you heart forever.

Even now, I did then, but now more so than ever, every time I see a butterfly it reminds me of you

…Yes you.

…I love you too

“You told me it would never happen.” She sobbed, the palm of her hands pushing onto the wooden coffin as she leaned forward her head hung low.

Tears swelled and dropped to the petering sleeping face she starred into.

“I lied”

He answered in a soft whisper that meant no harm. A slight chock rose from the back of her throat.

“Why?” She asked, her voice thick with grief.

“Because it was what you wanted to hear.

Its what you desired and I could never hurt you. We speak words to heal and words to go by but even if they feed our desire does not mean there not lies. We lie to each other to continue to live a life built on lies.

What ever makes us happy because we can not face anything without hope and faith, a system of beliefs.”

He answered.

She starred into his sleeping face that will never wake up, her eyes watery and red. His forgotten voice still echoed words in her head. “I love you.” She whispered with a gentle trembling voice. “I love you too but love can not keep pain away.” He echoed, the voice growing faint.

She did not want to forget the memories but slowly parts started to shatter away from the whole and drift away,

away from her grasp.

School Days…

The road ahead seems far too long and with you by my side I will surely never make it. The elequent charm of your laughter is overly beautiful. I have to move away from you.
The scratch of black on white, letters that pour into one ear and stumble out of the other, drunk, to form a pool of sentences I can’t quite take in.

Algebra.

X+Y=Z, and pay attention at the back, please. Your practically illegible scrawl on a page torn from my book, passed between us in a flurry of skin and hot palms. I can read it, though, of course. We never get caught.

The lights are always green, and we fly out of classes with wings on our heels.

The path…

I stand at a crossroads. Four paths stretch out before me, branching out and leading to infinite places. They hang, suspended, in this void filled with stars. I reach down and touch the ground, it feels solid.

I look down the path on my furthest left, try to follow it to the end. But the further it leads, the more new paths branch out from it. I can feel that each path is unique, and I can almost see shapes moving near them. As I look closer at these shapes I catch glimpses of beings… Places…

Some of these shapes seem to call me to them, offer aid and guidance. Others offer power, for a price. Every shape with a different purpose, they threaten and beckon.

Every path has its own dangers, and rewards…

I sit there for a while and follow various paths as far as I can. But in the end I come to nothing, nothing can be learned here, there are far too many possibilities.

I look up, out amongst the stars. And I begin to rise, it feels deceptively slow but when I look down I can just barely distinguish the paths from the void. I push them aside, forget them for now, and turn my gaze to one of the stars. I move towards it and soon I can see shapes in the light.

I am close now, the light reaches out to me… It embraces me… It feels like liquid moonlight… Like a lovers touch… A warmth that fills my soul. I do not know how long I bathe in the light, it feels like an eternity of bliss. But I pull myself together, I can not linger.

I return my attention to the shapes who surround me, I feel their bliss. They are trapped, drained. Dieing. I ignore them and move closer to the centre, the origin of this light. I come to a tear, a rift. A gate to another place. I can feel the forces of this place tearing at me as I come closer, pain and pleasure mingle together and almost rip me apart. With a burst of strength and concentration I break through…

I find myself in a place … A void there is nothing but… White all around me. I am falling, a shape appears beneath me. A perfect square of black hanging suspended. As I come closer I see a blue line snaking its way across.

I land softly, the ground is made of black sand. I cannot see the edge. But I hear a sound, the rushing of a great river. I move towards it and as I get closer I can see a mountain rise up in front of me, from this mountain two great waterfalls form majestically. The water is a deep and vibrant blue. I stand there for a moment and marvel at this wonder.

Curiosity takes me to the bank of one of the two great rivers formed. I reach down and lower my hand into the water. The emotion is… Indescribable. Such power… Such incredible strength, it nearly overwhelms me. I tear my hand from the water, it has changed, I can feel it. It hurts. I feel driven to go to the other river, I do so and plunge my other hand into its water. When I pull it out with a gasp of pain and a tremor at my very core I feel a change in it as well. I have not the focus to remain, it is too much and I crash back into my own body, reeling from the experience.

My hands still feel different, a warmth within them. Pain and pleasure. But this is good, a new path.

Untitled love…

Love is the dizziness that I get from her kiss.

Love is the butterflies from her voice and her touch.

It’s the pure pain when she has to leave and the feeling I get when my heart’s stretch over hundreds of miles when I’m apart and the way my heart rises and swells when I am back in her arms.

It’s the look in her eyes when she stares into mines and tells ‘ she loves me.

Love is the absolute peace I have when she holds me and the terrible ache when she is away.

It’s the passion in her words and in each kiss. It’s the feeling in every “I love you”.

Love is knowing she feels exactly the way I do.

It’s knowing that she is love.

Lost Symphony…

Movies. Television. Billboards. Songs. The thing I hate the most… the media seems to spread it everywhere! It sickens the very depths of my soul, each crevice of my heart! The horrible lie! The overrated truth!
People buzz about, fluttering endlessly about that same thing over and over again, not knowing that when they find that so-called treasure at the end of the rainbow, all they will ever find is a bag of rotten potatoes.

Horrible, horrible, horrible! Love is horrible!

But why do I feel so horrible for not having it?

So here I am, staring blankly out of the window, watching the raindrops fall to their inevitable doom. How ironic is it that what I want the most is something I truly despise?

The rain pours harder. The patter of the raindrops on the pavement outside grows louder. A symphony of heaven’s tears… of angels’ tears.

I sigh.

What kind of person would fall for a girl who views the world with such immature romanticism? With such a blatant bipolarity surging through her veins? With such a crazy depiction of how the world works?

What kind of person would fall for me?

Outside the window, a boy about 16 rolls by on his skateboard amidst the heavy rain. Possibilities! Endless possibilities! He could have been waiting for his friends at the park nearby, but maybe they never showed up. Or maybe his heart was terribly crushed, and now he’s just being overly dramatic. Or maybe… just maybe… his views and interests are the same as mine, and he has long developed a crush on me, and, right now, maybe he knows that I am looking out the window, and, wanting to grab my attention from the monotonous raindrop symphony, he decided to take a step up the stage and give me a visual accompaniment— a slight change from the monochromatic storm.

Highly unlikely, but it feels so good to imagine things like this. But alas, if the latter prediction was true, wouldn’t it be creepy?

Who would want a guy you never knew— a “stalker dude”— to be skateboarding right outside your window, watching your every move? No matter how romantically ideal that would be in one’s mind, in reality, things turn different. In reality, fairy tale beginnings and endings don’t exist. In reality, there is no such thing as true love.

In the end, every guy will fall for the most beautiful girl they’ll ever meet, only to find out that she’s as wicked as a witch. And in the end, every girl will fall for the most handsome guy out there, only to find out that he’s a two-timing bastard.

I must say, there are a few people who tend to escape this predestined disaster, either by finding someone worthwhile amidst oceans and oceans of scoundrels, or by having all this convenient knowledge I have right now.
But why do I feel so left out?

Why do I feel so… alone?

The guy on the skateboard has long gone. I close my eyes. Misanthropy.

A strong gush of wind sends a few droplets of rain water on my face. It blows endlessly, sending each strand of my hair dancing with the wind wisps.

The wind whispers, “Why are you so bitter?”

Don’t you think it’s tragic? The fact that I imagine the wind to even be concerned with such petty problems makes me even more depressed…

… more alone.

But then again, it could all be real, and the wind might truly be concerned, though it is a slim chance… who am I to judge whether something is real or not? I just need someone, or in this case, something to talk to.

I open my mouth, ready to share my reply. But oh, do my words escape me so? What should I reply? Why am I truly so bitter? Cliche love stories? Relatives getting divorce? Unrealistic fairy tale endings? Over-infatuation confused with love? Friends’ hearts turning into dust? My mind can’t seem to pinpoint the exact reason why I completely and utterly hate love.

Or should I say, half-heartedly?

A classic love story! That’s all I ever wanted! Two people falling in love with each other’s words! No physical attraction needed! Just plain, simple love! Is that too much to ask for?

But oh! The unfortunate truth has unraveled itself upon me! Men and women lost in external beauty and the false notions of love! Kisses! Passionate but meaningless kisses replacing thoughtful hugs and words! Nowadays, everything’s about promiscuity and fooling around!

I sigh yet again.

The storm clouds then fade into the far horizon, revealing the beautiful rays of the sparkling sun. Heaven’s teardrop symphony ends with birds chirping in the sky. A new piece, perhaps?

I close the window. One day, I’ll be singing that new melody… when my lost symphony proves me wrong.

In the Afterglow..

Outside the rain spattered against the window and a chill wind rattled the eaves.

I sat, alone, in the rectangular closet off the main hall, leaning against the door.  Over the sound of the storm I could hear the fire crackling in the fireplace behind me in the living room and the television reciting sitcom reruns from memory to a captive fan.

Occasionally I would hear her laugh along with the audience as she sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate.  I sat there and listened.  And listened.  And thought.

“Remembered” was more like it.  ”You have your work cut out for you with this one,” my friend had told me the day before.  ”A real firecracker laced with dynamite, that one.”  It was said in jest, I knew, but things have a way–even though they’re humorous–of getting under your skin.  That same day I had gone to a concert with her and while she was enjoying herself I was in the back thinking they aren’t really that good, but maybe other people can identify with them and that makes them popular. At the time I wasn’t even aware that she had crept up and by the time I knew she had planted a peck on my cheek and disappeared back into the crowd.  Idyllic.

Warm thoughts of that night filled my mind and by then the rain had slackened and the sound of laughter had faded into theme song.  I was as far from the ideal specimen of man as you could get and she could do better and knew it, but we were friends and that night had been special.  It would be something, I decided then as I stood, that I would remember for the rest of my life.  Outside the wind danced among the leaves, having exhausted itself against the house, and in the distance the thunder had contented itself to grumble.

The sky was overcast and on the street cars sped passed with a hiss.

I closed the door silently behind me and moved back into the living room.

The Best part of life…

The best part of life is telling ourselves how much it sucks then at the end of the day having a melt down cause you can’t find the charger for your phone then when your done crying like a baby about something that totally did not matter at 3am just to stand from your bed and look on your desk and see the charger in front of you and start giggling like a psychopath.

Anyway that totally wasn’t from any personal experience…kind of….shut up don’t judge me. The point of this is that we spend so much time of saying how much life sucks or how we are alone,

but really we aren’t, unless like you put yourself in a like box but i mean you still had parents and shit…ok anyways im going to shut up cause i needed to rant.