Rebellious Love

It was a sunny and tranquil Monday.
The excruciatingly blue and limitless sky is becoming a home for the numerous moving clouds,
the distant yellow sun is taking a little vacation,
the city's alleyways are being traversed by a brisk, crisp wind that is contacting everything and everyone it comes into contact with,
it is banging on windows,
swaying the lush green trees to its own rhythm,
And pushing people through as they march steadily towards their intricate routines.
I take a small sip of my bitter, early-morning coffee,
as I, just like the others, proceed to go through my remarkable day.
It is the seventeenth day of this drab and tiresome month.
When one is by himself, they begin to understand things in a different way,
looking towards the distance for longer than you're supposed to.
taking pleasure in the sun's steady warmth,
observing the many little details throughout the day,
holding on to anything little and joyful,
clinging into whatever hope there may be,
climbing trees to gain a new perspective on this ghastly world,
doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.
living each day as the day before it,
trapped into the eternal and secret prison they call routine,
Until we let ourselves go.
The coffee has gone cold,
it is almost 9:00 am and I am running late for my disagreeable but important work.
I discard the plastic cup,
and steadily walk,
to fight through 5:00 pm for yet another day.

These days, I have inconsistent memory,
hazy mental images,
trouble recalling specific details,
and a constant sense of disbelief,
I have no idea what actually occurred and what did not.
However, a few tiny fragments are still present.
I remember when I first bumped into you,
I was struck by the gleam in your eyes,
experienced a sensation that I have never known before,
I understood that 'overwhelming' had a much deeper meaning.
your unrivalled beauty enthralled me.
it was one of those rare occasions when you are unsure of whether something is true or not.
Everything happened too quickly,
you flooded my heart like the colors flood the sky with a multitude of shades,
tones and hues,
in perfect harmony,
your sublime beauty enraptures my soul.
After just one look, I had fallen deeply in love,
everything changed with only a glance.
I felt vibrant.
No one else in this entire world, in my opinion, is capable of making me feel even close to how you do.
Not your normal love story, this one.
And the beauty of beginnings had no influence on me.
I recently heard someone say that occasionally you can tell right away if someone is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.
I never believed in that.
I believed that the magic of beginnings can sometimes mask the absolute value of something.
But I gave up on all my beliefs once I met you.
I had enough courage to trust love one more time for you,
perhaps things would go in a less circuitous route.
The world may think I am foolish,
they can't see you like I can.
You have been mistreated in this cruel world,
and they have failed to recognise your amazing worth.
You overcame your demons,
you used your scars as a wing,
defeated those who opposed you and grinned at those who attempted to undermine you.
Despite everything you've been through,
you're standing right in front of me now,
tossing your long, curly hair over your shoulder,
confidently approaching the barista while ordering a dangerously potent espresso,
I didn't realise that the entire time I was staring at you in awe,
wondering how someone could go beyond the bounds of perfection.

Life happens at you quickly.
I became ill.
According to the physicians, it is a rare variety of cancer that is terminal.
Once you hear that horrible word, everything in your life is changed
because from that point on, every single second counts.
When I initially received the bad news, I was horrified.
It hit me quickly the first time, and then it continued to hit me every day after that,
rubbing salt into the wounds it had already caused,
wandering around my helpless organs,
leaving me vulnerable,
bed-bound,
and incredibly weak.
All of your past errors,
the things you regret,
and your underachievement over the arduous and adventurous ride you had in life eventually lose their importance.
Nothing else counts once you are on death row, yet as far as I can recall, I had a respectable life.
Everyone I know eventually disappears.
The most basic truth of existence is that death is inevitable.
Desperation forces you to think in an alternate way,
clouding your naive mind and injecting it with overwrought imagination,
tricking you into thinking that you could have rectified every little error you've made.
And this happens as I start to accept my cruel fate,
now on what is presumably my death bed,
holding a hand that I've held for thirty-odd years.
The prestigious monitors to which I'm linked begin to incessantly beep,
singing out of time,
illuminating the ceiling with vivid hues,
causing a commotion in my dreary room as others rush inside.
They did everything they could to save me and keep me on this lifeless planet,
but I let them down.
I got too far away and no one could save me.
My life is being replayed as I slowly close my eyes for the final time.
I am dying away while holding a delicate hand and wearing a slight grin.
I can only see complete blackness as my wretched spirit begins to go from this broken body.
However,
I was certain of one thing:
the hand I was grasping wasn't yours,
and she wasn't you.
I wonder if I could start over,
I'm not sure if I would keep myself,
but I would find a way to keep you.

The Devil's Mistress

I placed you in a dark brown wooden case infested with mold and rust,
And I tossed the golden key some place I no longer visit,
I thought I buried you,
I covered the tracks.
I was careful not to look at the place too much so I don't subconsciously remember it.
I believed that.
I believed that was a chapter of my life that I was never going to visit again.
It was supposed to be a perfect plan.
Flawless.
But somewhere between planning and execution,
I probably have missed something.
And you managed to escape from all that,
and find a way back to me.
Haunting me,
Trying everything you can to trick me,
Manipulate me,
Until you take utter control.
And I am sat there helplessly surrendering to your mysterious power.
I am frail to your irrational desires.
Lying down on the rough stony ground,
Looking at your demonic eyes,
Reaching my arm as far as I possibly can,
Trying to push you away with my unaided strength,
Incapable of standing up on my delicate feet,
In complete submission to your mythical dominance.
There is nothing else I can do,
Other than allow you to take control over my slim body and my mortal soul.

My life is a constant struggle between my need for acceptance,
my fear of rejection,
and a desire to not care at all.
I lost the will to fight a long time ago,
I misplaced most of the thin pieces inside me,
My rebellious blood loses its' way through my veins' tortuosity,
My thoughts are astray.
My worried mind wanders too often through the cold and dark nights,
It gets hard to make sense of things eventually.
I am praying for something that makes me feel alive.
Something that makes life hurt less.
I lost everything I stand for,
Somewhere between the battle of rights and wrongs.  
I cannot hide what's on my impatient mind,
Any my felonious heart feeds on the cruel lies when it gets hungry.

Another lucid and golden morning comes,
As it always does.
I get out of bed drenched in my own tears and sweat,
I have fought for too many sleepless nights,
I stood up for you on every single occasion.
You somehow always have a plan to turn everything around the way you want.
This time I lose.
I can't put words together in sentences strong enough to repel you,
Tears gushing down from these hurt brown eyes,
Escaping their lonely reservoir,
Running through these papers,
Fusing with this indelible ink,
Adding a full stop half through my sentences,
Destroying everything I have been working on.
It was inevitable.
You reminded me of parts of me I never wanted to meet again,
parts I have been hiding away through all these anguished years.
The pale sickle moon can't keep spinning around this naked earth forever,
Running around in flawless circles,
In an infinite universe.
And just like the moon I reflect you,
I am looking at the broken mirror right across of me.
Maybe I am the monster,
Perhaps,
Loving ourselves is hard because we find it so difficult to forgive ourselves,
No matter how cruel or ugly I became,
I blamed it on you.
But today I believe,
Certain doors are meant to be closed,
Locked forever,
I push a bare rickety table against your door,
And there,
Beneath that wobbling table,
There is where you will find me.

Afterlife

Some steps you have to take alone,
It is the only way you can figure out where you need to go and who you want to be.
One day,
I decided to take a step on this steep and rather rickety ladder of life,
Maybe it hurt less than standing still.
My hideous incarnate demons often manage to get the best of me,
halting any minor progress I make.
It seems that, for some reason, they always had an overwhelming advantage.
Perhaps I have been avoiding fighting for too long that they became too powerful and immortal.
Monsters can be created but they can never be tamed.
I look down at the steps of the ladder that I have hardly passed,
And then I look up for the bright skinny light shining from above,
Maybe there is a distal end to this,
One way or another.
I do not think I still have any more energy left in me to continue,
And I have made so much progress to let go.
Stuck on the same step for quite some time now.
Maybe, sometimes, it is easier to accept the mundane reality than to push for unachievable limits.

There is something horrifyingly beautiful about darkness.
Something about not knowing your surroundings or not seeing the colors of things as they appear.
There is something about the unknown,
Being in this temporary secluded place,
There are unspoken words about darkness and its unmatched beauty.
I have found comfort where I am,
Surrounded by blackness in every single direction I look.
I became so used to the darkness that it no longer scares me,
I am more surprised by the light when it breaks through these well's walls.
Exposing everything around me,
Reflecting across the stagnant water underneath my trembling feet,
And shining on those moldy brick walls around me.
The time when the sun breaks through the distant sky ironically became my least favorite time of the day,
Maybe, sometimes, it is better not to know where you are in your mental interplanetary journey.
Perhaps, not knowing is a greater blessing.
I do not want to know how many rusty steps I have left to the top,
I do not care about the disappointingly slow progress I have made so far,
I have accepted the shadows,
And they have accepted me,
Perhaps I have become a malevolent demon myself,
Maybe we are not all ought to grow up as radiant and mighty angels,
We do not get to choose sides,
There is probably an underlying sinister wisdom in keeping it unevenly balanced.

My clumsy hands are getting tired of holding in to this cold metal,
My brain is too fogged up with intrusive thoughts to let go,
I do not know if there is actually an end to this cruel well,
I do not remember how I got here in the first place,
What am I doing here, and how did I get here?
Is this supposed to be one of those tests from the mighty god?
Or am I trapped in someone else's universe?
It is pitiful.
This intensely unorganized life has lost its' value a long time ago,
There is no point in holding on anymore,
Nothing worth fighting for,
No one is waiting on the other side.
I am alone in this dreadful battle,
Surrounded by mold, rust and rancid smell occupying the space I settled in.
I feel so small.
I think hope is a desperate attempt to falsify the truth,
And I ran out of things to wish for.
I no longer have enough belief in anything.
''Almosts'' will always haunt me,
I almost made it out of this bizarre place.
''I almost''.
I have said that over a million times.
I look down,
Maybe this cold sulfurous water is not that unpleasant.
I look up,
And on my restless face,
a weak and humorless smile appears.
I sometimes cannot comprehend the unpredictability of life.
A silent and unnoticed tear makes its' way down my smudged cheek.
I do not want to feel anything anymore.
I let go.
Freefalling into the uncertainty,
Unparalleled gravity pulls me through the countless brick walls.
The light at the top feels smaller and the circle closes.
My scarred body makes contact with the water causing a noisy splash,
I hit my head on the concrete floor of the well,
I have finally found numbing and false peace,
as I count my last seconds in this hideous place.
I have accepted my brutal faith,
There was nothing worth holding on to anymore.
I let go,
As I should have a long time ago.

Intrepid

Life happens to you quickly,
One day you're on the top of an inaccessible pyramid-shaped mountain,
Looking down on those who crossed paths with you.
The other day you are back to where you came from,
The lonesome and cold hell that you have created for yourself.
And between this and that are brief moments that we live for.
It all sounds like a dream that you can't wake up from,
A vicious cycle of emotions,
Changing worlds,
A sun with rays that no longer provide heat,
An upside-down tree with no leaves,
A vivid orange sky,
And ruthless thoughts that follow you wherever you go,
And then,
There's you,
Wandering around in the wilderness,
Going on another trip trying to figure out who you are,
And what led you to this alternate universe?

Nothing matters anymore.
Words lose their value after they have been tossed around repeatedly,
All doors close,
And you stand there alone,
Surrounded by darkness and emptiness,
Everything hits at once,
All your underachievements, your failures, the dreams you gave up on, the lies you told yourself so you can move on, 
Everything comes back to you to stab you in the back.
And you are left wondering,
If any of that was worth it at all,
Or why did I start doing this in the first place?
Living in an alternate reality,
Where everything and nothing makes sense at the same time,
and oftentimes you find yourself standing on the edge,
Waiting for something spectacular to happen,
Something to turn your life around,
Or someone?
But as I previously said,
Nothing matters anymore,
And we're all prisoners trying to understand the complexity of life,
Eagerly looking for a reason to continue,
A reason to hold on.

Life or death.
Do or die.
I don't want to feel like I did last night,
This constant feeling of unpredictability.
I have been running all my life I have no energy left in me.
I wonder how much of myself I can't translate into words,
How much of me I don't even know,
Lost in translation.
Words can't do these feelings any justice.
Life begins and ends in this infinite place called the present,
Whatever is left in the past is irrelevant,
And the future is an uncertainty of its' own that the mind can't try to comprehend.
Death lurks around the corner,
Waiting on you to make a mistake,
Looking at you from afar hoping for the perfect moment to make ends meet.
I think it's both a burden and a blessing to feel everything as deeply as I do,
I don't know what to feel or what I want to feel,
I don't know what to think,
Or what I am.