Expression

If I could draw,
I would turn graphite to diamonds,
Draw my heart out on canvases
Sketch wonders with graceful strokes,

If I could sing,
I would turn feelings to sounds
Strum heartbeats into soothing melodies
Sing people songs that moves emotions,

If I could write,
I would write you a poem,
String words into a heartmelting bouquet
Turn silent words into butterflies in bellies

Rainbows can be seen, sung, and read.
Tears can be in ink, melodies, and pictures
Let your ideas run wild
Expression doesn't deserve suppression

Vesuvius

Alas, a grim dawn has come. I am Vesuvius. The toilet bowl is Pompeii. Last night's Chicken Tikka Masala is molten fiery lava. I am Pompeii's final reckoning; exacting punishment from above. None shall escape the inevitable - neither the sinful nor the innocent. Let the noses of the unfortunate witness this divine destruction I bring to this land. Pray that those above have mercy on their souls.

Godlike satisfaction.

Unconditional Bonds

Up till now, I still wonder on how frequent it is to witness or have unconditional friendships. Indeed, I believe that the most sacred of all bonds are those that are unconditional : unconditional love, unconditional friendships, unconditional faith.

Perhaps it is because of the bond formed out of pure feelings with no strings attached, nothing at stake on the table, and nothing to gain that makes it so long-lasting. Hell, some of these bonds are so strong that not even time affects it; the feelings just go dormant. Due time, the flame of friendship pops out like nothing ever changed.

If I were to give an honest opinion, the best friends I have ever had were the ones I met in lower secondary school. Well, maybe the fact that we bathed, ate, and slept together played a big part in fostering that brotherhood, but nevertheless, it was formed without any self-interest - unconditional.

After those 3 memorable years, I was then introduced to reality. The reality that to have friends is to have something to give in return for the friendship. Unconditional friendships are only stumbled upon once in a blue moon. The rarity is then exacerbated by our attachment to online media. Thus, leading to an environment that is so hostile towards true friendship.

In venting out my repressed anger, I wish to deduce from my own experiences that as the amount of brain increases, friendship values decreases. I would choose befriending the school gangster because they believe that the people around them are the ones keeping their hidden broken pieces together. I have had 2 enemies who became my best friends because after you get through that rough and rude exterior, what you'll see is a gentle person that will go through extreme lengths to save you.

Jam of the day

Tunnel Rush

I recreated the scene from Perks of Being a Wallflower on my way to Washington DC. I felt so free. The feel of the cool night wind blowing on my face, the rush from the speed. I played a song mentally in head: Last Words - Real Tuesday Weld.

With the tunnel closing to an end, I closed my eyes.

It really felt like how you described it Charlie.

Of Sleeplessness

I grew an addiction. It is 2.45am and here I am curled up getting haunted. Repressed memories are detrimental. They need to be let go. But who am I to muster enough strength to let go of those pains.

Porcine

I write this because I am trying to find myself through my mind.
My mind is a room that belongs to a lazy, fat, stoned, semi gamer and full time procrastinator college kid.

And my imaginary being is in that room; taking the form of an ant. An ant that is trying to weave through what is a labyrinth even for a human million times his size.

I don't know myself anymore. Once upon a time, I was too eager to find myself. So I myself on a quest to find the "missing" parts of me. I set out with eagerness and high hopes but I was unprepared. I was ignorant. I was too naive. I was just a pig trying to fly but ending up being a muddy mess who thought his spoinky tail was wings and his snout was a mighty hawk's beak.

The pig is not a hawk. Nay, he is not even a pig anymore. He is a fool

Turns out the parts of  me weren't missing. I just didn't accept myself. The missing puzzles that I fanatically searched for were merely stuck to my fat back from me sleeping too much.

No climax. No one claps. I will retreat back to my sty. Only to find that I couldn't call it home anymore. I am now lost. Cursed to lie in the mud.

Well, I will turn to mud anyway. What was the word for a certain fate again? Oh yeah. Inevitable.

At least I have Anis Mojgani and his poems.

I am tired of writing, Still haven't found why I am in the mud.

I'll make mud angels then.