possible

impossible to rekindle a friendship lost so many years ago without knowing how she looks like or even hr last name.
impossible that the intimacy of friends may recur on the count that what used to be friendly is now likely known as creepy.
impossible as the most lingering of regrets might just dissipate as the hopes of what could have been smoulders into ashes beyond repair.
impossible that this hopeful person might just give up everything he hopes for in return for a normal life.
impossible that normal is all that one desires for.
impossible is talking to me.

Feb 14

When I think valentines I think my very first valentines.
The woman who held me close and asked if I would be her valentine.
The thought that it would be totally uncool and weird for a mature lady to hold the hand of a younger.
Tormented by the little rejections everytime she offered her supporting hand.
Yet failed not to extend another offer aptly.

Mother of two who favoured neither. More she grew and grew yet noticed by no one she git her teeth through age sufferance and pining pains.

Like a destiny of eternal suffering, has one forgotten that maybe hell is precisely as described as life amongst the living? That loss, rejection, aches and pains are just the obvious stigma that living might just be the equalivant of dead in hell?

If we continued to be rotten in our very own personal and unique ways are we not turning hell around but presenting ourselves with pitchforks and bloodlust?

As a result of valentines day I’m making the world a better place. Make nobody lonely starting with the love of my life and breath of life – my mother.

Honestly, i’d ask my mother to be my valentine but I’m not sure if Evelyn would be open to that but as compelled as I am to declare the suffering the wrinkles have seen and the under appreciatedness of her worn hands. Maybe this year, dedicate your love the your unconditional love – mum or dad.

Sometimes I look back

I just opened up a ditch no one can ever fill but Myself
With the dirt that is my lifeless carcass.
Looking back on things long past, have no one ever considered stabbing you in the back of thy neck?
The hatred of younger’s past afflicted by the possibilities of tomorrow yet when all things considered and done, why has death not befallen history?

Have the dead been buried? What then could it be that crawls up one’s spine to tear out the structure of strength, confidence and hope. Had emptiness, self-hatred been the only depths in life’s baseless reasoning? Why then do I still continue to fight the tedious battle? What then is the war within me?

I’d like to forget. I really do.

I’ve been searching and searching hard did I
For the face haunting the dreams of my fuck-ups
Had perfection existed, she would be it
Yet the searches led not to resolution but the honest reality of human incapabilities
Had I not found the flames of fury
I’d dare not look in the mirror of who I’ve become

For the sands whom slip through the cracks
Grasp not the security but the beauty
Yearning for a lust
The sample of breast and buttocks
Its the up-against-the-wall fantasy

Had strokes suffered to thy name
Each shot dedicated to your face
Of flows on lips untamed
Seep through the skin

The siren calls

Defying Gravity

I never imagined that I would enjoy a Broadway musical this much, just goes to show the amazing talent of the cast and the brilliance in planning, detail and the choreography of the whole performance.

As a birthday celebration for Evelyn, we caught Wicked! Though lead Alphaba’s name keeps escaping me, she was the character I related most to. Misunderstood for the warped perspective. Held back by society just because I look different, behave differently and always getting caught in the middle.

If only one would learn to be more accepting of others and make their life an easier one to live. Wouldn’t the world get a little better? Of course the theatrics of the musical dramatised the expressions to exaggeration beyond comprehension. Yet one cannot help but wonder how the elaborated feelings strike such a realistic chord?

The humour was nothing short of clever. As far as scorned women go, Wicked depicts the perfect combination of silly, serious, fierce and magical stunningly all while poking fun at rejected schoolmates and the ever beautiful and popular girl everyone wants to be with.

If you’ve ever felt like everything you’ve worked so hard for crumbled at every single one of your touch, Wicked might just be for you.