It's Quiet, But I'm Sure, There's Something Here.

Could you tell me when this summer expires,
So I can start preparing for winter?
Could you leave me a note,
When my love is dire,
So I won't care anymore?

I'm so scared of loving,
That being loved isn't fair,
When forevers don't last long enough,
And the hearts, they cease to care.

You're so insecure, you're stuck in your mind.
You're oh, so demure, you refuse to unwind.

But it's your delusions that need clearing,
That only reinforce,
The conviction that your loving,
Isn't needed anymore.

Do I see an infinite, when I look in your eyes?
Do I see an absolute, when you make me smile?
Don't hate me, cuz I'm crying,
I ain't that insecure.
Don't leave, cuz I'm trying,
Not to care anymore.

Ache.

And if you're ever around, in the city or the suburbs, of this town,


Be sure to come around,


I'll be wallowing in sorrow,
wearing a frown,
like Pierrot the Clown.


Don't be sad, little boy, little boy,
Don't be mad, they're just little toys.

You, Always.

If I kissed your neck right now, would you feel it at all?
If called your name again, would you run to me,
like you did yesterday,
and the day before,
but not too long ago?

If I lay down again, would you hold me in your arms?
If I showed you my scars, would you take them away,
like you did with your lips,
like you did with your kiss,
and with your heart?

If I stumbled as a I walked, would you support me again?
If I twirled as we danced, would you balance me,
hold me by the fingers,
hold me by the warmth,
and with your eyes?

If we slurred our love again, would you say it?
If we touched again, would you feel me entwined,
with the fabric of your skin,
with the digits of your body,
and with your soul?

If I hadn't insisted, would it have been different?
If I hadn't persisted, would we have smiled today,
and cried together when apart,
and think of each other tonight,
instead of just me?

If hadn't professed my love, would you have?
If you hadn't confessed your past, would I,
tell you that you could never be,
tell you that it's not enough,
and that I wish it were?

If I grew tired and fell asleep, would I dream?
If I woke up, would I feel your absence,
feel you not calling for me anymore,
feel you not miss me like I do you,
and feel nothing at all?

Would you still call me angel and turn off my lights?
Would you still smile after you finished your words?

Would you listen to me love you forever,
Even if, you couldn't love me back?

You would.
You could.

You did.

Oranges & Purple Clocks.

Meh. I haven't been writing, so I thought I'd post something I wrote about an year ago.

Tick Tock.

My purple clock,

Could I spin you around one more time?

Sleep not,

Your endless mock,

and your sweet insulting rhyme.

Orange Here,

And seeds to taste,

Could I cut myself another slice?

Orange Fear,

Those seeds I hate,

Could you bring me Misery Pie?

Severed Hands,

Kneel them neat,

Point them in the right direction.

Metal strands,

Time to keep,

The clock's timed inflection.

Pointing Me,

One-man compass,

Could I use such navigation?

Pointless See,

One-man use us,

Orange my Obliteration.

Severed Feet,

Massacre please,

Blood upon the hour.

Pretty Sweet,

Chiming tweet,

The milk is turning sour.

Hic-Hic,

Inavded Vision,

Its 13 o' Clock in the City.

Lipping Stick,

Fertilization,

Little limbs aren't pretty.

Nightings, Good.

Sleeping Tight.

Oranges and Clocks will sing.

Sighting Blood,

Meeting Fights,

And revelations, I will bring.

How Does It Feel?

It's been what, 4 months since my last proper blog-post?
Not that anyone's keeping track. I'm having an Avril Lavigne revival as I write this, a revival that will surely end the second the track list hits "Girlfriend" at which point I'll set my pc on fire.
It's kinda like Russian Roulette. Except with more potent weapons.

Do you remember when she used to be so good? Sure, her lyrics and even her rebel costume seem stupid now, but way back when, when non-conformity was the norm, she was pretty fucking cool. Objectively of course, she's not much of a singer or song-writer. But I'm not getting into that.
The point is, she's different now. For better or worse it's hard to say (Worse! Worse!). She's changed.
She's basically a sell-out, but that doesn't give me the same dramatic entry into the something personal starting with the word:

Change.
It's an annoying little thing. It creeps up on you when you're not looking. It comes crashing down you as a torrential downpour, when the weather-man promised only a drizzle. It's hard to accept change even when it's anticipated. Mostly, when it's anticipated.
The worse kind of change is the one that doesn't come when you've arranged and prepared for it. Nothing's changed for me. I'm still here, in the same city, surrounded by the same environment still wishing my life away.
Whatever's changed has only to do with what's outside the range of my introverted interactions. It's the people, who've left or are leaving. It's getting lonely and it's only about to get worse.

First there was nothing, and then God said, Let There Be Plight.
Or something like that.
So in this situation, I'm trying to do the best I can. Still have my sights set on Law School, because it's the only practical option for me which doesn't make me die a little on the inside. The reason I haven't posted about how bad CLAT was or how fucked up things were post Non-Admission Into Law School, wasn't just because nobody cares, it was because it was hard to come to terms with. It still is. Which is why, I don't think about it. It's easier to vindicate those who've made it and become bitter, than to empathize with their joy-unbound and still sympathize with their complaints about the inadequately air-conditioned library. Feeling like this doesn't make me a better or like-able person, but it does help prevent me from going back to bed every morning because someone left me message about the abundance of super-models at their campus. A little like Rehab, no, a lot like rehab, I take it one day at a time. Of course, I don't "Let Go and Let God", because that's what landed me here in the first place.

I've been writing a lot. What's sad is that none of it has seen completion. I've managed to scrap each one mid-way because it's a bunch of contrived bullshit. Whoever said I was self-destructive didn't know what they were talking about.

You live so much, its like you're dying
You can't give up, your body's trying
You build so tall its like you're flying
But rocks will fall; the sky keeps climbing.

You're gonna lose everything.

-Durenerin

A Suicide

It's not a simple thing.
At least not at the surface.
It's not a pretty thing.
At least not for those with pretty eyes.


I've done it, you've done it.
Not in the literal sense,
Of course not.
But we do it everyday.
Whether in compromise, or discipline,
Whether in love, or prostitution.
We die a little bit because of us,
but we tend not to notice.
It's only a little death,
only a little.

Someday maybe,
We'll think of it as fashionable,
to hang ourselves from the ceiling fan.
Or maybe it's already passé,
as we move on to shallower things.


Everyone's thought of suicide,
In a moment of self-pity,
Or dramatic self-glorification,
In the thirst for petty attention.
Or simply in the need,
for the ultimate escape.
Like a book that never ends,
Or a sleep, you won't wake from.


We shun suicide,
As a coward's cause unto death.
Maybe we should hold knives to our hearts,
And see our courage then.


From the pastor, to the merchant,
From the soldier, to the politician,
They've all considered it,
In a passing thought in the face of things,
Maybe to be brushed off like a bad dream,
Or to be clung onto, like a lover.


Maybe one day, we'll look for it's cause,
And skip the route to easy effect,
Maybe one day, we'll paint a more vivid picture,
So no one would die, voluntarily.
And so we might smile a little longer in the sun.


-Durenerin

A Smile, A Wave, A Wish To Die.

I begin to count the flaws,
One, two, hundred, benign.
You begin to count the assets.
Three, four, hundred malign.

That too did pass away,
And I said," I'm a bitter and,
lonely man." You heard,
the triumphant marching band;
The birds,
They sang for you that day.

I drudged behind, in drudgery,
The leaves for tomorrow fell today,
Colours of the fall,
That sung to me yesterday;
of it all.
Of all that could have been.

Places, that were mine to stay,
Took them, wrested, from my grip,
Forayed into the fray,
Slowly let go, I did slip;
I fell away.
So now you had my prized possession.

I cannot blame you,
Your abilities divine
that I am lacking,
That I fail to find;
Hacking,
At my innermost detentions.

I disparate your existence from mine.
I smile no longer when I see,
You so happy, so fine,
That thus you live in two: Honesty,
And what was mine.
And I'm a bitter, bitter man.

-Durenerin.