Tag Archives: dreams

Unnumbered thoughts

After a long break, this is what I came up with -somewhere in between sheets and dreams- on a Wednesday night.

 

My feelings are mine,
They should never be something you concern yourself with.

My feelings are for me,
To be entertained when I’m bored
Not for you to be burdened with guilt.

 

ps: Apologies, they sounded so much better in my head half asleep.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

It’s been a while

I think, I think too much
And that’s another thing to think of
Besides the subject that is you
Running laps continuously around my mind
While I am always known as a slow walker
And I cannot keep up

My friends tell me they never know what I want
And I have never minded just settling with ignorance
But when every mention of you is accompanied
With multiples ‘i don’t know’
This once, I really care to know if I care for you

I seek left and right for some sort of advice
And there is one straight ahead who could help me
But how could I possibly ask you about you?
Even if your insights would be the most insightful

Timing is everything, I agree
So tell me if I should reopen this after a year
Or should I just let it go like I did three years ago?
You are 7 hours away but it does not matter
Because what are years and hours and memories?
They only make this sound more tragic than it is
When the only tragic thing is us stuck in GMT-friend

I’ll be honest, I am nervous
And if I’m lying I’d say I’ll talk to you today
All this time knowing today will never happen
Shall we trade experiences once this is over?
Today I wish for you to read this
Today I hope you could magically read my mind
Today I will stop being complicated and mess things up
All this time knowing today will never happen

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Let it be

Let our meetings be awkward,
It is not like the familiarity,
Would make any difference,
It is not like I could stop myself,
From stretching a grin like a Cheshire Cat,
When I see you on the streets,
Forgetting for a while,
That you are someone I could only have,
In fictitious 3 am dreams.

Let our fingers brush,
When the deck slides across the table,
And I will force the ends of my smile,
To uncurl itself painfully,
Cursing under my breath,
Because it felt like untainted bliss,
Cursing, as I look at you,
To deceive everyone in the room,
And partly, to deceive myself.

Let this slowly die,
Even if it drags a part of me along,
Even if it takes all the time in the world,
Because I should be revived,
Shiny and new with a few polished cracks,
Ready to be auctioned to needy beings,
As a vintage piece of soul,
Weathered and worn,
With value higher than it ever was before.

Let months pass,
And I will still be across the road,
No longer waiting, no longer thinking,
But I can’t say the same about feeling.

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Prologue (mostly just word vomit)

She blinked, confused. Her eyelids curtained her sight, showering her with visions of the corners of a low-lit cafe. It was not that she was unsure that this large space in front of her is a cafe, she knew right away after her first intake of air. The nutty smell of freshly grounded coffee -most likely single origin- and the sweet smell of molten dark chocolate from her half eaten lava cake gave it away. She heard the clutter of porcelain against porcelain, the result of graceless lowering of cups to its designated saucers. She knew this place is what it is but the unanswered question keept repeating in her mind like an overplayed vine that just did not know when to stop: Why is she here? How did she get here? Why was her first conscious breath in a cafe? It should have been in her room with the smell of her lavender laundry softener waking her up as she nuzzled deeply into one her numerous pillows. Her first sight should have been the window with the view of the sun, angry at her for wasting precious time or the blank ceiling with lights as eyes and a water blotch for a mouth, probably from a leaking pipe from the unit above her. But it is not.

She took a deep breath, as deep as her lungs could manage. ‘Okay’ she mustered silently, running her eyes slowly from the small wooden table with a cup of untouched latte and high calorie dessert to the outfit she was spotting. She swallowed, her mouth tasted minty with a hint of chocolate but what surprised her was how she was dressed. She looked poised and classy, the kind of person who would frequent places like this. Well she does, but she never looked the part. Today was different and it was not just because of what she was wearing.

‘Excuse me?’, she cleared her suddenly dry throat. The waiter passing by turned back, snapback covering his eyes but a warm smile spread over his face, too widely stretched.

‘How long have I been here?’, she continued, her eyes wondering around trying not to show any hint of fear or panic but she accidentally swallowed hard at the last minute, too nervous at the answer she was about to hear. He squinted his eyes but she could not see. With his head slightly tilted as a silent sign of ‘are you okay?’, he answered, ‘Around 15 minutes  and I’m assuming you were waiting for someone.’ His smile faltered as a look of concern started to morph onto his face.

‘Oh, yea. Of course.’ she answered.’ Just completely lost track of time’, she tried to justify, putting on a well controlled smile and shrugged.

‘Alright, then.’, he said without a hint of sarcasm. ‘Anything else I can help you with?’

‘No, thanks.’ she lied, clumsily taking a big gulp of her now cold latte while looking away just wishing the waiter would leave her alone.

Through the corners of her eyes, she saw the retreating back of the waiter wearing all black except for the grey trainers he had on. She approved of his fashion sense even if it’s nothing much, it was something she would definitely be spotted wearing: an all black gear with a hint of colour if you were lucky.

She closed her eyes, wanting to block out her overreacting mind and frenzy thoughts. ‘Alright.’, she muttered. Starting from the beginning, she coerced her brain to recall the last thing she could remember before it all went, blank? How did it suddenly go blank? What do you mean thoughts just went blank? This is no movie, memories do not go all sci-fi and turn into a self-destructing black hole. Her mind went on overdrive and she tightened her knuckles, feeling the distracting pain of her blunt nails trying to pierce her soft, fragile skin. ‘Let’s do this again’, she mumbled to herself not realising a certain pair of dark eyes locked on her from behind the espresso machine. He too was doing some thinking, completely ignoring the milk frothing over the mini metal jug he was holding.

Tagged , , , , ,

Strip

Strip me off all my positions in everything I have sold a part of my soul for,
And what is left of me?

Strip me off all the paint I use on my skin every day,
And what do you see?

Strip me off the labels I have ingrained on the base of my neck,
And what could I possible be?

Strip me off the change in my pockets and the flimsy plastic squares I swipe everywhere
And could I live without money?

Strip me off
And would I still be the person you encounter every day?
Strip me off
Strip me off
Because only if I were, am I living life right
Until then, I am not.

Tagged , , , , , ,

37 steps to 25

You are exactly 37 steps away,
And I have been walking for hours
My heels sore and my feet an angry mess of blisters
Even when I’m at your door, you are too far away
I could never reach you, not months ago and not even now

You are literally a grasp away
And my mind has been trying to make me reach out and hold you
Because if I could not bear you in my heart
Then I guess just the feel of you under my touch
For a few unblinking moments would do
And that is a really sad compensation

You are so close yet still so far
I could see how the shadows deepen the crescents of your smile
Have your shoulders inches from mine
And I know this won’t happen again
So I close my eyes and try to paint this view on the walls of my mind
But in time, my blinks slowly wash it away
Leaving dripping stains of what could have been

You are my thoughts at 25 to 2
The reason my desk faces the window
The person who greets me last in every occasion I could remember
The dreadful gloom creeping over my wishful thinking
And I am blaming you for all this exaggerated feelings
Because blaming myself would make this less of a tragedy

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There isn’t a title to this.

Disclaimer: To those uninterested in spending your time reading my attempt at ‘proper’ writing, please proceed to the end of this entry where I happily provide you with a direct summary of what this post should be about.

I’m forcing myself to write. Every word that comes out is deliberately squeezed out of my unwilling brain, fingers involuntarily pressing each key with much more force than necessary. A sudden pause. A rebellion of the mind as vocabularies are stopped from entering my consciousness leaving the tips of my calloused fingers hanging approximately an inch from the keys. I need to do this, I coax myself. Like the common phrase ‘there are things you don’t like that are good for you but you do not know’, this is one of them. But this time I know, I know that this is necessary, pivotal even for me to not have any regrets.

You see for once, I know what I want to do. Whether I can, whether it is even in my reach, we shall leave that to the higher hand to decide. But this desire to paint a picture without paint, to draw vivid imageries with only the monochromatic shades of white and black -although paper is now ‘buff’, not white and the black hue of ink is always debatable- is so potent in me it is beyond the angry, aggresive shade of red. It is the deepest, calmest shade of blue that should not be overlooked. It holds authority and is unambiguous. Never once does it flicker, remaining constant almost knowing that it will never be forgotten even if it’s ignored.

And I am not even close to revealing what it actually is but my heart has calmed in gratitude, a sigh of relief in between the never ending beats of life it drums every second. This is it, a story without a plot, just words thrown here and there with the aim to sound pretty in the heads of those who reads it -or to the ears if one prefers to read out loud-. This is what I’m good at, never finishing a well thought project, or rather focusing too much on the unnecessary that the centre which it’s supposed to be revolved around is lost. Please, view me as one who is intuitive rather than the true unorganised person that I constantly am.

An expected blankness blinds my usually adept thought process. It is often this way whenever I try to write conclusions because the only thing that truly matters from you reading this is not the temporal joy -or misery- this short entry brings but the message that I would like you to ponder on after the wasteful minutes you carelessly spend on me. If the writing does not last beyond the pages it lays stoically, the writer is not doing it right. And that is the thing about literature, it is the art of those who finds bliss in the darkness of their closed eye lids with letters and words -even non words sometimes- as their palette as they dance to the rhythm of their own voice silently echoing from the corners of the almost spherical mind. There is never really a right or wrong in literature but one.

It’s 1.30am and i’m sleepy but I pushed myself to write this post because I’ve been dreading to write something. I think after trying many things, I have decided that writing is what I’d like to do for a living (most probably as a side income because writing alone is not sufficient to sustain my material wants). And I didnt really get to explain that I just need to channel all my thoughts onto something. About the ending, well, I really did have nothing to say to sum up the whole post. Basically, this post is just fragments of thoughts that I pulled out from the train rounding my head. 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Beautiful

I dreamed a dream I’m afraid to tell out loud. Most of it is vague but it’s beautiful in the simplest of ways. It isn’t exaggerated with flowers and happy endings. It isn’t filled with sweet words and out of this world promises. I’m afraid if I speak of it, it’ll crush me how impossible it is for this dream to become real.

There were parts in these dreams. Parts that matter and parts that don’t. How do I know which part is which? I don’t.

He was across the street, busy working at the corner shop. He wasn’t looking at me. I stared at this person I wanted so badly and I took a step towards him. The street was filled with sweaty bodies and loud voices. Hawker stands lined up and I had to squeeze myself through, bumping into tables and avoiding over-sized umbrellas. I reached the other end of the row of shops, climbing a few steps every ten seconds.

I wished I was nervous. I wished it felt just like the other times I had feelings for a person. This wasn’t it. I knew what I was doing and I wanted to do this. There isn’t any doubt, questions or uncertainty in my head.

I stepped inside and I saw the back of his head. He turned. I closed the distance between us and I asked him to walk with me, spend time with me. His lips curled and I knew it was going to be one of those dreams I’ll never forget.

We walked back to the place I first started. We didn’t talk but it wasn’t awkward. I was content knowing he’s next to me, I didn’t want or need anything more. Smiles plastered on our faces. We were both shy.  There was a hawker who stopped us midway to talk to him. I stood aside, watching him from the view of an outsider. Beautiful.

We walked into a room filled with old furniture. I have never seen it but it felt familiar. I sat on the old couch and gestured him to join me. He took a seat next to me. There was a gap between us. I could lie and tell you my heart was beating fast but it wasn’t. I felt comfortable around this stranger I’ve never met. The calmest I have ever been. He told me stories but I wasn’t listening. His presence was already a lot for me to take in. I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his waist. It didn’t feel wrong. He inched closer and I rest my head on his chest. His voice and heartbeat became my lullaby.

I woke up, my arms by my side, a note next to me.

A knock. A head popped in and I smiled. Bags of food and the smell of it made me shut my eyes and take a deep breath. We knew our time was short. We didn’t have to say it.

There was another person in the room. It was a friend but I don’t know who or how she got there. I told her that I had to leave. I gave her some of the food he bought me and we left the room.

There wasn’t any goodbye. If there was I couldn’t remember. I was too content to be sad that we had to part ways. When you’re given a chance to be with a person you couldn’t be with in real life, you memorize every passing moment. Because memories are better than nothing at all.

Beautiful. That’s what this dream is. I am not living in a fairy tale where dreams do come true and happy ever after does exist. I am aware of where I stand.

And every time I relive this dream behind closed eyelids, the only word that comes to mind is beautiful.

Tagged ,