Ready?

Fists clenched,
Chin up,
No longer a test.

Jaw tight
Eyes wide
Have to be the best.

Day dreams
Night dreams
Led to a single moment

Some live for
And die for
Desires in the present.

Evening Walk

Clock

A ticking clock scares me.

Alone with my thoughts.

All I can think about is what will be. Where I will be in a month? Fear gnaws at my insides.

I can't help but feel terrified. For so many things. For so many people. The issue with me is that I care too much. When something bothers another person, I make it my personal mission to make sure they'll be okay.

I worry about my friends - will they get interviews? What if I waste opportunities that they could have had? I worry when they grieve a loss. I worry when they feel pessimistic.

I soak up the emotions of people who surround me like a sponge.

I worry for life. Who knew it was.so delicate? In two days, someone dear to my friend was taken from the world. 17. Young.

I worry for my parents; my grandparents. I can't disappoint them when they expect so much.

Ultimately, I don't want to fail. If I fail this year, I won't recover.

Scared.

But defiant. I will not accept the low opinions of others. Those opinions are tossed aside, like wood into a bonfire, until the only visible remnants are small glowing embers.

Wholly insignificant.

They fuel my anger. Make me strive to prove otherwise. And I will. Time will show them.

Untitled

Anger

It coarses through my veins
My blood boils.

My fingers itch for something
to pour out my frustration.
To empty out my worries
My fears.

Failure.
Disappointment.
Rejection.
Loneliness.

I don't want to think of these.
I don't want to - need to - think of these.

My hands long to cry on a piano;
To melodicaly thrash the ivories
Until I'm content.

Because I'm not.

I want to hold someone close
and punch someone in the face.

I want to be eternally silent
and shout until I'm satisfied.

But what I want isn't what I need.
And what I need?
Not what I get.

Perhaps I should stop expecting so much of people; of life.



Perhaps I should just stop expecting anything.

Deliberations

Shoved into the dark,
Blind faith my sole possession.
Simply awaiting
A single silverlining.

Answers

I'm out of the know;
In a new situation.

Effortlessly, they
flow; many conversations.

---

Not every question can be answered; some answers will always be unknown. Why you stopped talking to that person you held so highly. Why God took away someone you treasured from the world. Why someone thinks the way they think; why they do what they do.

These questions keep my overanalytical brain, well, overanalytical...and send me straight towards the kettle.

Dreams Of November

It was about a man; tall, pale skinned, coiffed brown hair, confined from its typical unruly state. A sleek black suit. Stubble dotted across his face; his jaw and hollow cheekbones.

He protected me. Sat by me in a black Mercedes.

I walked past the cemetry in Rochester, NYC, looking over the lonely tombstones. It was a cold night, my hands tucked inside my pockets. I breathed out clouds of steam that drifted past the glaring street lights, into the obsidian sky. I blinked, and the vapour had dissipated into the night.

Suddenly I was in his car. He was rushing me somewhere.

A restaurant. A flight of stairs; curved, going down. He grabbed my hand in his, pulling me with him.
Wrenched a white door on the right open, pushing us inside.

Lights off.

My hands pressed against his chest, which rose and fell in syncope with mine. No other sounds than our breathing, forced to be hushed. And then a sound. Outside, rapid footsteps. Someone sought but they would not find.

Onyx eyes looked down to meet my gaze. They held mine for a long period of time; in them I saw many of the emotions I held in my own. When his eyes darkened, I gently bit my lip.

He whispered my name.

His gaze wavering
between my eyes
and my
plum
lips.

He looked me in the eyes, his emotions conflicted.

His resolve shattered. Suddenly his lips pressed against mine, before stopping; moving away. Still partially paralysed in shock, my eyes only just opened to see him beginning to step back; insecure eyes seeking mine as an apology began to spill from his lips.

Before he spoke, tip toeing, I gently reciprocated. His hands fell to my waist, pulling me closer, his head tilted down towards me. And as we kissed, my hands raked through his thick, soft hair; our lips briefly parting before delicately touching again. He placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth; I felt his smile. My arms wrapped around his neck as I pressed my lips to his again.

They say a picture can speak a thousand words.

The beauty of moments like these is that words are no longer necessary.

Promise

Who am I darling, to you?

Hide and Seek

My eyes look
On and on
For a sign; something to spin
The cogs in my mind.

They seek; day in, day out.
For him; half a person.

Just like me.

The person who'll let me be.
And won't run screaming.
(Just kidding).

His imperfection would be his greatest quality.

He'll look after me, but let me take care of him.
Hold me, to give me an excuse to hold him.
It'll be unconditional; never temporary.
No end nor beginning.

Not a typical guy. He'd see the world in his own perspective.
Not obsessed with attaining wealth, money, fame, women.
Caring, compassionate. Witty, intelligent.

Most importantly, he'd be loyal. So that I wouldn't fear coming home,
To an unexpected other.

He wouldn't complete me; he'd make me better than I am.

Question is: where is he?

Hopefully not confined to my mind.