The Danger in Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a disease

which rots all hope of a future

by blinding you with the past.

You see the mustards as gold,

the sounds of the street as songs

and the puddles as oceans.

The bar has been set too high

and now all comparisons

will seem insubstantial and weak.

I am content with how I am

but there is a huge difference

with content and happiness.

Now that I've noticed the change

it is hard to ignore my thoughts

and how they miss what has been.

I wish I had amnesia

so I could forget how joy felt

and make a future irrelative.

Black and White is Never Right

I used to think it’s best to live without regret

but now I regret ever thinking like this

because I’ll never be able to forget

how I forsook the chance of another kiss.

We’ve both grown up, but I won’t grow out of you

and even if I felt hate for a while

it was because I cared; and I still do,

it would kill me to never see your smile.

I am sorry for things that aren’t our faults

and I wish that it didn’t cause us pain

when we exchanged our verbal assaults

until neither of us had hope to remain.

Now I know the truth, and I no longer hate

but I know that it’s too late to go back

so I am left to lament our ill fate

and to lust over the things that I lack…

Blackjack

When I first got drawn my hand

I thought it too low a score

but I've come to understand

that I'll always wish for more.

When I got another card

I got closer to perfection

but my total was still marred;

I still desired correction.

So greedily I asked to twist

hoping this would be enough

but still the total was missed

and my game proved to be tough.

I asked again for one more

but this rendered my hand bust

and now without any score

I wish I didn't adjust.

Sure, you need a good amount

but you must know when to stop

or you'll end up with no count

and it will be too late to swap.

Open Door

I'm in a cage with its door wide open

and the cage is comfortable for me

so even though I've the chance to escape

I can't find the will for me to break free.

The steel bars feel so cold against my skin,

the floorspace is cramped and confined

but somehow I can't listen to reason

and leave this claustrophobic place behind.

I think it's a fear of the outside world,

that it might present an even worse scene

but I can't continue to be enclosed

when there are more beautiful sights to be seen.

So for the first time, I've found the strength to leave

and I'll walk through the discomfort I'll receive.

Demolition

Chipping away at my skin of stone

I cannot seem to find a backbone

and all the carvings on the floor

don't resemble me anymore.

It all looks so fragile and cheap:

to think that's the state I once did keep

makes me crumble more in my shame,

disgusted by my hideous frame.

If I glued together pieces lost

I still wouldn't recover the cost

that comes from the initial loss,

lying on the floor gathering moss.

But better that waste be put to use,

so I tug at the pieces left loose

so that my whole frame collapses

to redesign without these lapses.

Grand Gestures

I was going to give you the moon

but it is too cold for your hands to hold.

I was going to give you the sun

but it leaves too fast for the gift to last.

I was going to give you the skies

but it comes at cost when you may get lost.

I was going to give you the Earth

but it is too cursed from the wars it has nursed.

I was going to give you the stars

but they are all dead, and so instead

I can only give to you my heart

which will always be there to give you care.

X

We force this poison into our bodies

then our bodies force the poison back out

so is it a natural routine

when I know I should be going without?

The social norm is the social decay

and sometime soon it will kill all your friends,

and society would push it away

should they know how their deadly habit ends.

And yet I still find myself joining in,

shaking the hand that grabs my throat and throttles

and I'm really thinking of giving in

picking up my favoured poison bottles.

If we all took our time to stop and think

how many of us would reject our drink?

#Healing

The main component

of a good healing process

is accepting pain.

A Shark's Grip

This morning, I opened my salt-stained curtains to a sea of black in the sky.

Rubbing the sleep from my startled eyes with scaly hands,

I had half a mind to close the rotting rags

and return to bed, where I could attempt to sleep out the storm.

But something compelled me to keep on swimming against the tide,

despite the constant barrage of sharp-peaked waves

 that were seeping through my open window,

which could slice me cleanly in half if the ice-cold air didn't shatter me first.

So with a sigh, I stepped outside into the harsh surroundings

which were beginning to engulf my chest and flood my lungs

which tightened with each breath that I took

as if the sea's fist was clamping at me like a vice.

I saw a struggling shark trapped within a maze of rocks

darting backwards and forwards into the jagged walls

but when I reached out my hand to lead her to safety

she snapped at me with her savage jaw.

Foolhardily, I was sure that I could save her

and that her selfish past could be redeemed

so my trembling hand reached through the crevice

into the terrifying blind unknown,

and at that moment I felt something clasp around my wrist

gripping on and tugging relentlessly

but when I opened my screwed up eyes I saw that it was her hand and not her teeth;

the storm has passed and it's clear blue as far as I can see.

The Boy who Fell in Love with the Moon

Did you hear about the boy

who fell in love with the moon?

He used to say that the night

could never arrive too soon.

He would wait at his window

in anticipation

to greet her with his shameless

adoring elation,

and she would soak it all in

reflecting the light he gave,

returning the compliments

and the caring that he craved

but her bright, round pleading eyes

couldn't continue to conceal

the truth about her own shine

and the way she really feels,

so she would wait behind the clouds

to try and avoid her fears

as he would wait hungrily,

howling out heartbroken tears.

When she finally returned

in symmetrical full sight,

the boy realised at last

she held someone else's light.

He lost his wolf-like hunger,

letting out a final roar,

he trudged back to the forest

to chase love's light no more.

Shed

I am a snake who has just shed his skin

and I'm staring at the pile in disgust.

Is that really the state that I have been in;

stained with self-doubt, sadness and stressful rust?

But mai pen rai, I am rid of it now

and I am happy with my current coat,

and before this freshened world I avow

to take each mouse that I catch by the throat.

For I know I've rid myself of dead weight

when I moulted old skin and slithered free

from everything about me that I hate

to everything that I would like to be.

And I just can't let this defeat me once more,

dead skin shouldn't drag me down to the floor.

Landslide

I've been making the ascent up these steps, towards the skyline high above.

The flags are cracked and with haphazardly sticking out,

like jagged teeth, hungrily waiting for me to fall into their eager jaws.

On either side of the staircase is a sheer drop

where crumbs of rock fall to their demise with each step that I take.

And the path behind me which I have taken is all crumbling away

approaching me at a pace just as quick as my feet can take me;

I cannot go back, I can't even rest.

But it's my fear of the fall which keeps me moving,

keeps me rising to the top

like life is about constantly proving

that I'm not ready for the drop,

then again is it worth reaching the summit

to reach some unknown height just as unstable

that sets you up for the plummet

just as you're beginning to feel able?
I can't afford to keep thinking like this

with the road I've taken shattering away

so I carry on convincing myself there's nothing amiss

up into the uninspiring clouds of grey.

It's got to be worth the battle

if so many try to climb this hill

unless we're all brain-dead cattle

and we're being lead in to get killed.

Fears aside, I cannot hide

when I can only take what is in front of me

so I shake away the warnings inside,

break to a stride

as fast as I can be.

I finally reach the peak,

weak and dizzy from the height

but I see the skies at the top are blue;

and I see you.

As I attempt to collapse into your arms

and embrace the comfort I have found

you whisper in my ear
"I never meant to cause you harm",

and push me back down to the ground.

I should have listened to my fear.

Winter Blues

The willow tree

weeps silently

at the leaves who leave for winter.

His arms out wide,

he’s teary-eyed

as his heart begins to splinter.

He’s all alone,

just skin and bone

oblivious to the birds who sing.

He does not know

there will be more

when it finally reaches spring.

Sealing the Silk

Here's another spider song,

and I'm tired of shying away in this dark place

but should I surface my presence is met with disgust.

I respond to attacks with venom

which makes even those I love recoil,

seeing me for the petrifying plague I can be.

But I won't crawl back

for even if I'm sick to death of this gloom,

I am used to being the outcast figure now;

and I think it suits me best.

Then again,

is success really worth misery?

If this web disintegrates

find solace that I'd seek absence over replacement

so I can let my silk function

afterall

this life is short

thankfully.

I've missed so many opportunities

to cut you loose

that it's becoming clear

what I really want.

A Fight in the Forest

The trees in the nighttime forest encircle me like a boxing ring

offering no escape,

with rusting ropes made of amber leaves

and thick trunked ringposts

which have seen so many battles like this

end in tragedy.

My opponent, the bitter cold wind, is pulling no punches

and is determined to defeat me.

I find myself up against the ropes

to the delight of the audience of wolves,

who watch on hungrily,

raucously howling for their gambles to pay off

at the expense of my life.

But as the back of my head collides with the adamantine cortex

I feel hope awaken inside me,

with everything against me but time on my side

I have nothing to lose.

So I let the cold slap me in the face every now and then,

making sure I wrap enough to endure it.

knowing that their offence will leave gaps in their defence,

and sure enough, picking my shots carefully,

things start to feel a bit warmer

and nothing they can throw deters me.

I know that I can outsmart the night with enough positivity

and with that thought in my head

I see the first orange glitters

emerge from between the branches at the peak of each corner,

the brightness suddenly shines down on the audience

highlighting that the wolves have disappeared

and the dew-filled grass is now rampant

with rabbits in a buoyant bounce

and flowers rising in rapid rush.

The sun is up;

and so the cold's time is up.

Synchronised Senses

Happiness is when senses merge

in harmonious sultry heights

when we must give in to the urge

for the flesh's naked delights.

I feel an everlasting rush

with the interlocking of limbs,

a sense so blissfully lush

at even the slightest of skims.

And when our contact hits a peak

I cannot control my lengthy sighs,

I feel so powerfully weak

as I collapse between your thighs.

But it isn't the act but the art

which gives me this happy feeling.

To know that it comes from the heart

is what is most appealing.

Growing Pains

I haven't felt growing pains in so long,

and I wonder if that's what's preventing me

from standing tall.

To succeed you sometimes to need to take a hit

and to avoid discomfort is to avoid contentment...

I'll no longer shrink away.

Irresolute Resolutions

The pages on my calender

are rapidly receding.

Nothing's been happening

and moments have been fleeting.

I seem to be coasting through days

without a lot to recall,

lumbering through in a daze;

my laze will be my downfall.

But now my life is on the up

even if the days still fade

for I will now use my time

to act upon pledges made.

The year really does fly by fast...

I'm ready for a new one now,

which I'll waste just as quick

breaking another New Year's vow.

Fear of Fear

Fear

is the only barrier

that prevents

the inconceivable

becoming achievable.

I would say

that I wont let it

get the best of me again

but I'm scared

I'll break my word.

Explosive Mind

There's a constant ticking inside my brain

like a bomb to go off in any minute;

I'm sure it means that I'm going insane

because I can't accept there's nothing in it.

And yet still I will tick against my will,

the sound drives everyone I love away

fearing my company might someday kill

and they have every right to be afraid.

For I'm scared too, I'm scared of my feelings

and what they might do to my unstable mind,

ignoring rationality's pleadings

is the unfortunate way I'm designed.

For now, I'll stick my fingers in my ears

in the hope that it will drown out my fears.

Curtains and Blankets

My curtains hung themselves in misery last night.

They could not take the dark anymore

knowing that they must part when things were looking brighter.

I hope that they'd find comfort

knowing that their parting brings me closer to the sky

which blankets us both under our eternally shared space.

The Spin of a Wheel

The wheel's been spinning so fast lately

and it's hard to figure which spindle suits best,

for all bring different angles,

all going the same way

but providing different viewpoints nonetheless.

I wonder how long this spinning will last

before it all winds down to a halt

or sends me into a dizzy crash,

and if I decided to take a back seat

would the gears still shift without a fault?

Repairing Jigsaws

If something's broken and can't be mended

we should put down our tools and walk away.

Things should be left as they are intended

when it is best to leave them to decay.

But pride insists to us "they must be fixed!",

and we are all slaves to our pride's demands.

When passion and practicality are mixed

we are left staring at our broken hands.

So next time that I find broken pieces

I'll put them in a box labelled "lost cause"

until all memory of them ceases

and they shatter to the sound of applause.

Who am I kidding? I'll still try in crazed care

like they're some jigsaw puzzle I can repair