Willingful Confession

 

When the time is passing by,

And the clock is silent in the room,

No sounds around,

I am still in my right mind?

What came out of soul I bear,

What my fingers guided on the key board?

Was this truly my state I shared,

Or a mask I comfortably wear?

…

In the countless sleepless nights, I cried,

To state of uncourteousness I prayed the pain away,

Tons of words whispered on the word file,

Some shared, some hidden deep into the folders of my confessions.

I have tried reflect on what has been said, on what is written in world wide web,

Yet I feel like an imposter, as if I am deliberately lost this year,

I keep pretending that the therapy has helped.

Discouraged of the milestones left unticked,

The change of plans never foreseen,

As though my art is nothing special,

As if my writings are just ashes in the wind.

I have tried million ways to feel complete,

I shed my skins like a snake growing up – agile and adaptable,

Venomous if thread approaches, ready to attack

But yet my goals are somehow never close to be realized.

I cannot separate the work from the hands that wrote it – we have fused into one –

A shade of darkness, a shimmer of hope, a drop of insecurity, a touch of pain.

Is this what came out of me still dressed in dimness, longing of what I used to be,

A never ending changeling of feelings – growing pains we all need?

Ambitious to the core and still wounded from the staleness of my pace,

Overachiever in the body of a mortal behind the sheet of paper, fearfully holding the pen.

…

But in the end I am an artist, I can only carry what is mine –

The pain, the sorrow, the hope and longing for success.

I am not for everyone and this is fine… I guess...

My confessions are mine alone – somewhat tragic, somewhat beautiful, somewhat insane.

I am always ready to showcase my naked soul

And someone fails to catch what the lines were reaching for

It was never meant to be for them.

…

When the time keeps slipping past,

And the clock still refuses to speak,

No sounds around,

I am still in my right mind?

What came out of soul I bear,

What my fingers guided on the key board?

Was this truly my state I shared,

Or a mask I comfortably wear?

This duality in me real – sometimes shaky sometimes steady

Depends on what I want to feel

And if the silence is the ocean surrounding my island of thoughts and dreams

I prefer it to flood me so I can swim freely underneath the waves of drafts

Willing to be told in the most unexpected ways.

When Two Worlds Collide

My world collides with hers – my order her chaos,

I operate on reason; she is flooding emotions.

My vision is the opposite of hers – facts based on documents,

Her is just a feeling – nothing more.

Every time I speak she rolls her eyes on me,

As if she is tired of the boring citations from the countless books I’ve read.

Every time she speaks I feel utterly confused from the confidence she has

Yet I never seem to take her seriously – her truth is always an inkling.

…

She is the Yang to my Yin – yet I don’t want to admit it.

Her unruly world pulls me in harder; I lose touch with my reality.

Her voice so silent yet so powerful keeps me unarmed, yet always in unease.

Muffled words – unclear if she is imagining again or telling it how it actually is.

My world collides with hers on every instance – she is like a raging river mid monsoon season,

I am steadfast, grounded like centuries old uninhabited forest.

She is the hurricane of raw excitement,

Yet I am the harsh dessert – both dangerous in their domain.

And here I stand perplexed of how this mayhem is so appealing to me – everything I am not,

Everything I am running away from.

My world colliders with hers – the brightness of the known and darkness of what it might have been.

She is the sinner in the eyes of other, I am the saint who is meant to be.

One word and I am again disoriented, lost in her thoughts provoking me step out of the clear lines.

Is she trying to kill me with her mischievous smile or trying to free me from my caged mind?

Is she the punishment for my self-resentment or the salvation of my tortured consciousness?

…

My world collides with hers every breath I take – she is my reflection in the broken mirror,

She is everything I am trying to be – so effortless and charming,

She is my inner voice of what I really need.

When nights are cold and days are heavy, she is always next to me – indivisible to others

But so real to me.

I have fallen for her strength yet I am unable to see her in me.

She is bold to the bone, refuses to bow when I am willing to bend the knee

She is what I am capable of but yet scared to take the leap of faith.

She is me but not controlled by fears, always free.

One day I wish these two worlds embrace each other not colliding like a war for power.

One day I wish her to be on the other side of the mirror, not trapped by frames and reflective surfaces,

One day I wish she closes the door from the other side not me!   

 

Intoxicated by Guilt

 

Lost underneath the veil of darkness,

Drunk from sorrow bottled up for ages inside me,

Fated in loneliness,

Guilty of losing what I cherished most.

I longed for being someone else’s anchor in the stormy sea,

I longed for being someone else’s fundament,

I longed for being someone else’s morning or solace,

I longed for being someone else’s sun in a cloudy day.

…

Yet the dawn was never mine, the sunset is kissing the tired eyes

I scream under the moonlight like a hurt wolf.

She drives me crazy, calling silently my name,

She forces me to give up my dreams and follow the pack instinct,

Compelling me to turn into wild animal – unleashed.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am still drunk,

Eyes lying me as if the morning will ever come,

Fight my battles – yet alone,

I am so wasted, unable to connect,

Fulfilling foreign dreams in not for me

Even though I wished to be drained from the rain of beloved laughter.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am insanely intoxicated,

Still unable to sober up.

But it’s not the alcohol circulating in my blood stream like an oil in the old machine,

It’s the guilt eating me alive, like a ghost my mistakes haunt me,

Wrong decisions made when I was young.

My intoxication took control and buried me beneath the locked emotions,

My consciousness refuses to acknowledge the growth I’ve had – eternal punishment.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am ultimately juiced,

A drunkhead with no hopes and dreams,

The liquid courage now poisoned me - weakness, unforgiven sins.

I refuse to become clear-headed, this world was never meant to me,

I prefer to dim my light, be invisible, an outcast, cold-hearted.

And yet the numbness starts to fade away, I am not ready to face myself -

I just need another glass.