Thursday, August 1, 2013

"Stutter" 8.1

I find it easier to talk with you
When we're not talking at all.
Were our voices to commune,
My lips would sputter, my tongue stall.

That way you speak, I could swear,
Has more emotion than Twilight.
With that half-assed grin you always wear,
A crescent moon to my dark blue night.

You've always found me charming,
At least that's what you say.
I'll never believe you'll harm me,
But courtesy has its way.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Haiku's 7.15

Knew you for three months.
No more hanging out, late nights.
The rest is history.

It’s that splash of gold.
House barely stirs in the morn;
Cats too get bedhead.

Last words aren’t the worst;
Not the words but that feeling
Knowing that they were.

Everybody has
A sky just inside themselves,
Bursting with life and death.

My friends here are all
So alive and so fleeting,
I’m the stagnant one.

I know you ache, yes.
Your heart is red and bruised blue.
But not yours alone.

Shakespeare cried all night,
Vincent all his days: insane.
Add me to the list.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"Solace" 10.28

I find solace in the dropping leaves;
I find comfort in harsh silence.
Dutifully I work as simply as a bee,
My wings ache in my confinement.

I wish I could say I’m merry;
I wish I could say I’m bliss.
Lucky me, I can buy my happy
In a pack of 20 two-inch sticks.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

"Turn" 6.24

I slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard right. My head fixed almost at a ninety degree angle, keeping the car ahead of me in plain sight. With the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, I became hyper-aware of the entire situation: the smell of burning rubber, the clock reading 5:32, the pressure against my chest, the sweat creeping on my head. I felt my right hand reach across the centerpiece and smack against her chest, keeping her in place as much as her seatbelt was.
I knew I wasn’t going to swerve in time, that my car as totaled. I closed my eyes, taking comfort in the fact that at least I will take the brunt of the blow instead of her. I heard the first ding as my door touched the awaiting bumper ahead of me.
Lazily opening my eyes, I felt tired. My head bobbed on my neck, strained from fatigue. The first thing that caught my attention was the magazine sprawled on the floor at my feet that had some Hollywood starlet talking about her most recent breakup. Jerking wide awake, I felt no seatbelt digging into my chest and waist, trying to pin me despite the centrifugal force.
The room I entered was white, completely furnished with all but two chairs, a sofa, and a magazine rack. I recognized it instantly. I’m in my psychiatrist’s office!
The clock on the wall read 4:56, four minutes before my appointment. I could not honestly before what happened; did I just see the future? Or was it just a terrible dream? Like like déjà vu but much more intense. It all seemed so real but I guess that’s all visions like it. But I remember how I came to that point so which do I have to avoid or do differently to change it?
My pondering continued until I heard the door open and I felt a rush of air blow through the door. Kelly. It was Kelly. A regular, like me, whose appointments always seemed to coincidentally be planned at the same time as mine in the room across the wall.
5:03 p.m. The doctors were late.
Rushing and overflowing with ideas, I erected myself from my seat and paced back and forth, in plain view of everyone. Kelly took the sofa across from where I just sat and picked up my magazine. We actually didn’t know each other, I only heard her name as it was called with mine to be summoned into our interrogation cells with kind words and upper inflections. Crazy people hardly mingled with each other.
5:15 p.m. 
I grew impatient, forgetting the dream and sitting down, exhausted. The feeling was escaping me, I could breathe again. I no longer felt the hyper-awareness of my senses or the hyper-tension of my muscles as they gripped for every inch of life left in me. Across from me, Kelly looked puzzled and confused too and our eyes met. She smiled at me.
My eyes flickered across a scene of ever-enlarging faces and frozen shrieks of terror as we approached at the force of Millennium Force, 4.5 g’s, the equivalent of my slow-braking 85 mph car. I see a shard  of glass fly across the space of the two cars.
Back in the office, 5:16 p.m.
Again, I couldn’t tell how to feel; I didn’t know if it was me or I was just watching from someone else? But I had to prevent it, somehow. The freeway was where I had to go. I ran outside the building and found Kelly smoking. She looked up and flicked her cigarette away.
“They haven’t called us in, have they?”
“Well then I’m not waiting around here anymore. Can I come with you since my ride’s not here?”
Startled, I stopped and looked at her. I mean really looked at her. She wasn’t skinny but she wasn’t fat. Her hair was put up in a simple bun, practical but stylish. The eyes of a genie sat between an elegantly sloped nose behind plastic-rimmed glasses. She was stunning.
“Uh, sure, just jump in. I’m heading downtown.”
I had no idea why I told her to but I felt compelled. From inside the building, I heard a noise.
The force shattered my arm and ribs instantly and as the two cars became fused together, I felt my body crumple like paper and the last thing I heard were sirens.
My head jerked up, my hands flailing over the dashboard of my car.  I tried to process the entire collage in my head. My eyes flashed to the clock which read 5:30. Through the window the world rushed by and as I tried to feel for the steering wheel, it dawned on me that I was in shotgun. A piercing glance over my shoulder and I saw that Kelly was gunning down the freeway.
“It’s my turn now to die, Sam.”
Ahead I saw cars slam on their brakes but we were going much too fast. The last thing I heard was a screech of the tires and my hand gripping Kelly’s as she turned the wheel to the right.

"Yellow" 6.24

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do. And they were all yellow.
“I’ve never actually listened to Coldplay before. I’ve never had their CDs.”
“Really? We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”
She tightened her soft hands on mine, though still being as gentle as a lamb. Her voice melted into the song as she kept pace with the lyrics.
I remember that she loved Coldplay. I remember that her hands were so small but cute. I remember that her hazel eyes were mine. I remember that her scent was midnight pomegranate. I remember that she loved the stars.
We kissed and kissed and kissed. The stars danced and we joined in. The streetlights illuminated our dance floor, the city life made the music; but in our ears rang the sound of that loud chorus, those quiet verses, and the simple melody of her favourite song.
Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and all the things you do.

"Endless" 6.24

That blistering heat was all that remained when the bell rang and despite our best efforts, the school never raised the funds for a proper air conditioning unit throughout the school. Instead they placed two industrial fans at the back of each class room, like giant podiums of air and sound.
The end of the day had arrived (finally) which meant one thing: air conditioned basement with my books. The best adventure I’ve had all year so far was the journey into the minds of other teenagers, searching for a girl, a Great Perhaps, or forgiveness from an old friend. I’ve never once had someone to tell me to run away for a day to Montreal or Singapore; I’ve never once had someone tell me to meet him or her at the park; I’ve never once had someone just squeeze my hand until our pulses beat as one at an irregular tempo. Of course, that’s what I imagined it’d be like.
Windows down, cool vents on full, and sunglasses perched high on my nose like a hawk, I sped through the lower city districts home, anticipating the icy rush of air that’ll meet me.
When I reached my house, though, I found something very curious: the front door as propped open. Being somewhat of a Holmes fan, I quickly deduced not the reason but the consequence of this phenomena, that the AC was definitely not on. I slammed my door shut, completely disregarded my backpack boiling in the backseat, hopped over the three steps to my porch, and burst through the front screen door.
What awaited me was, I don’t know… At first my eyes blinked, trying to register the full magnitude of what I saw. My brain fumed through paces, trying to make sense, whirling out ideas and scenarios where this could’ve been a dream.
“Mom? MOM! What happened?”
“Stop yelling and get the phone, now!”
But I couldn’t move, not even to reach into my pocket; I just let gravity work its magic and pull my knees straight to the hardwood floor of the hallway. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even feel my heart…
“What….what happened?”
As my knees began to ache with the burden full sinking into my mind, onto my shoulders, I realized that the air conditioning was on and I never felt colder in my life.
The clock struck four p.m. and I was stuck in an endless chime.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Morosely Soft. (2.4)

It is a sad and miserable time we choose.
It is a sad and miserable the love we lose.
It is a sad and miserable hole we’ve dug.
It is a sad and miserable skeleton we hugged.
It is a sad and miserable wretch we fed.
It is a sad and miserable campaign we led.
It is a sad and miserable heart we lost.
It is a sad and miserable price it cost.
It is a sad and miserable lie we kept.
It is a sad and miserable soul we’ve bred.
It is a sad and miserable poem I write.
It is a sad and miserable and solemn night.
It is a sad and miserable place I’m trapped.
It is a sad and miserable conspiracy I wrapped.
It is a sad and miserable thing I curse…
And this day just grew worse and worse and worse.