I had never knew silence
The way it hangs between us
In its soft assurance and confidence

The space between spoken words
An excuse to fall into your eyes
To breathe you in unblinkingly
To consume you as humanly possible

But I know this hunger will never be sated.

Night Drive

Do I dare look into the light
Past my consciousness
My mind swimming
Enclosed in its shell
What do I say
I grapple with my words
Your breath shortening mine
Your heart stopping mine
The light feigns play
The music drowns it out
It claws at my insides
Spurting blood and bile
I am helpless
I am inundated
As I lie in remnants
The light goes out
And I am taken

Turn Off The Lights

The switching of lights, the swift moment between seeing and not, between distraction and focus. When you lose control of yourself, in the dark, the consequences are binding. A solemn deal with the devil, enshrouded in his darkness, what becomes of you is solely yours to behold.

Much as we recognise human behaviour as undulating and erratic, a pattern can be observed especially when delving into situations that are loosely structured to resemble familiar experiences.

I realised my pattern when entering into a relationship. Not so much of resembling actions or behaviour but the phases in which I build compartments for my different emotions. It seems when getting to know a person I construct a singular box to contain every sentiment I have towards them. Because of its solitary containment, all good and bad seem to meld into a single cohesive feeling towards them – it’s either positive or negative.

But as I progress into it, the storage system becomes more complex and it’s categorised into varying intensity. I doubt that I am fully aware when I do this or even why. Perhaps it’s because of my inclination to deconstruct everything felt and experienced. It’s funny how I can really be a feeler (a person whose growth based on things felt) but it’s also really important that I break it down into its derivative forms.

And I think what I fear is by doing this I become overwhelmed by the myriad of things felt and to which “categories, ” if you will, they fall into. Also I find the inability to recycle and regurgitate these stored feelings is rendering my so-called filling system to be in disarray.

Not that it’s a bad thing – to feel ever more is to have lived more. But I am wary as to which point that my sub-conscious attempt in keeping my feelings in check will breach this rational part of me.

I always believed that you can always control what you feel – only if you allow yourself too. And I have let myself slide in the past. Never really liked the feeling of losing composure. Although I admired its sheer tenacity in overriding logical reasoning.

I think I have probably overrun my self-imposed quota of over thinking today. But I’m welcoming it with great gusto because it helps to know how I work myself, especially for the benefit of the other person in the relationship. I try my best to not let the other person get caught in my tendency to emotionally expound my thoughts too much.

It’s a learning curve. And yes while it’s throwing me off a little, I’m still as happy as I ever can be being with you.

That’s a close for now.

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Varying Intensity

Today I am writing from my room in Surfer’s Paradise, Gold Coast. It was not an intended trip, more so an obligation, it being my company trip.

Surfer’s Paradise is nice to look at, with beautiful beaches, interesting bodies and breezy weather. Yet I am struggling to find a connection with the place. As a town built for tourist, I find it devoid of any meaning or substance.

Which led me to think if I’ve become someone who will always need to find meaning in the things I do. Not that meaningless endeavors are the way to go. But sometimes it is liberating for the mind and soul to be diluted in the essence of meaninglessness.

I feel bounded by my incapacity to be stoic. Why does having to feel be so important? It might be inaccurate and a risk to say this but perhaps I would like to know how to be shallow, if not just for when I want to. There are things in life that should be taken just as it is. Meaningless as it is, they exist and what is life if you don’t savour it all?

Ponder on, I will.

Amongst Other Things

I’m watching you from behind. The light streams in through the curtain, laying darkness on the lightness of your skin. I am taken by the slight curves of your back, so enticing to my fingers.

Likely so, this is my favourite part of you. Among many other things.

Writing from my bunk bed in Phnom Penh

I have been happy. I am happy. It’s funny when they say if you seek happiness you will not find it. And I found it when I least expect it.

But in this state of being happy, I can’t help but feel flustered by my incapacity to capture every moment, every nuance of just being. I had forgotten how fleeting time can be. It feels like time has halved itself between us.

However, I feel from this stems the appreciation of wanting to stay happy. There is a difference in being and staying happy. And the latter is hard work. I write when I’m sad. Not that I can’t when I’m happy but there is such a thing.

Still, I am inspired by how driven you are in what you do. So, maybe if you can do what you love when you’re happy, maybe I can too.