if only...
i know you heard that before. you catch yourself asking that two innocuous words. well, innocuous until they sharpen in front of your vision. what comes after that can only be expressed in a tortuous volvulous of your heart.
what if...
ruefully, or shamefully, you pick yourself up and dust yourself down. yeah, you're alright. maybe. maybe not. well, a smile can hide everything. but your eyes can't.
could it...
ever so long ago your questions are always left unanswered. you are left with grotesque masquerades of your dreams. or rather, illusions of grandeur. this may be a rude way to put it, but comparably mild, to the rude awakening you savour everytime the patina shatters.
should i...
are you paralysed? most people are. most people are insecure. actually, we all are. some of us are just better at deceiving others. i would probably receive some flak for strong, acidic words, but for the sake of cogency and clarity i will be blunt. whether you call it diplomacy or just hyprocritisim, it is still a lie. and the best lies are told in a modification of the truth. easier to adapt, and easier, for you, to deceive yourself, and accept.
would you...
you yearned for that to happen. you wanted that person to reach out so badly that you direct a film of your dreams. you play, rewind, and playback again. you felt so estactic that you got the chance to seek solace in open arms, and rest in security. that, is what we are all looking for, and would probably, kill for.
i wish...
upon the stars that this would happen, that would disappear; this person would stay, that person would go; you would have this, you would have that taken away from you. such strength in such... flippant grief. i am amazed.
on songs and poems
songs are the simplest synthesis of the most complex of thoughts
poems are the most complex synthesis of the simplest of thoughts