state of the union




I feel the sudden need to immerse myself in Christmas and all its good feels
and to truly embrace the social aspect of consumerism and all the supposedly 'feel good' 
things the world has to offer. 

I want the glorious scent of gingerbread wafting through the air,
tempting me to reward my palates with its oh so yummy flavour.
I want to see snow.
I want to crane my head back and watch 
each individual piece with its personal mark and pattern
fall lazily from the sky
and ever so sway effortlessly with the gentle breeze of the cool air.
I want to face my palm skywards and wait for one of the delicate pieces
to fall onto my hand and melt upon touch-
as though I am destructive with everything I come in contact with.
I want to hear Mr. Bublé crone me happy holiday tunes with that
deep mellow voice of his
and I want to feel giddy and nice and just plain non-thinking and worrying
as I stroll down the streets and visually absorb all the
red and white paraphernalia the stores have on display
to entice customers to spend their money.

On a side note,
it has been two days since my return and
I am thankfully recovering from my disorientation.
I suppose being back in the comfort of my yellow chair
makes me miss the busyness of the street
where you'd walk for miles
and mingle with the thousands of other worry bodies
who you'll never know the full stories of.

My yearning to work in a place where I can make people happy
may have stemmed from the surprising desires of kindness
I have hidden and rooted deep in me.

I feel a bit lost at the moment,
and I wish to drown myself in the good Christmas vibes this year.
I hope the Christmas of the year of the previous' will not repeat itself.

I wish you well and I congratulate you on your survival.

la luna knows


 



And the stars-
they kissed you gently as you cast your eyes heavenwards
in hope of a bright future or a better tomorrow.
The moon smiled benignly and
nodded knowingly
as she kept all the secrets in the expanse of the universe to herself.

And your eyes-
they show me the stories
your mouth failed to speak into words.
No matter how much you try
you just can't seem to connect the complex
trains of thought to your voice.

And even though you're far away
and we're separated by the
never ending blue wrinkles of the ocean and
grass that's always greener on the other side and
every other thing in between-

I love you.
I still do.

death at crossroads



 There are so many ways to die.

You could overdose on the things that give you temporary happiness.

You could get an adrenaline rush from the free spirited plunge
and feel the blow of the wind against your face,
heart rising to your brains,
before you hit the solid ground and
feel your blood slowly trickle out of you,
like a solid piece melting on the inside and spreading far and wide and covering everything in its path.

You could, also, cross to the other side
and ignore the loud beeps and horns,
but always, always, keep your eyes fixated on one point ahead of you.
And the most tragic and anticipating part is that you never know when,
something will just hit and crash into you
from either your left, or your right,
and you're just hurled straight off in the opposite direction of the force,
and you're flying, flying...
several seconds in the air-
before you drop and flip and tumble and crash,
and your beautiful eyes no long blinking but forever fixated beyond.

But the worse kind of death you could possibly subject yourself to
is one where you let others live your life for you.
You subject yourself to everything the materialistic world
asks of you; everything it tells you you need in order to succeed.
Oh! The wistful chase for paper and it's ill-gotten gains.
Day by day, you toil on and on
climbing rung by rung up the ladder
that seems to never reach the top.
Everything is mundane;
Everything is routine.
You're breathing but you're not living.

You allow yourself to be consumed by what is taught and expected of you.
You give up chasing your desire for experiences-
simply because they tell you paper is more important.

This is the worse, albeit physically not as painful, kind of death.
No sudden rush of blood to your head-
No hypnotic stare before anticipating the crash.
You just drag yourself slowly- day after day.
And then you die.
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