"Finish your goddamn coffee Sylvia!"

Bei mir bist du schoen…

Your eyes behind the shadowy mascara… like used syringe sank slowly and deeply into my vein. That tingling sensation gnawed through my consciousness, my morality, and my decency that I had part. Your mystical eyes pierced elegantly through my rib cages and needled mischievously into my skin, left a trail of adrenalin from my heart. 

Please let me explain…

Your crimson lips pressed together so slightly into a shape that faintly resembled a simper. Like a pair of scarlet scissors, your lips shred open my internal organs; my lungs collapsed, my stomach caved in, my throat shivered. I was carved like a live-stock over and over. 

I wished I could say bella bella or even wunderbar…. But I was speechless when you pressed your cheek on my neck as if they weren’t meant to be apart.

You might have whispered something to my ear…. You might have explained that kiss, that I’d understand. You might have said it was such an old refrain, as you sank your fingers into my back like cold wet sand.

Bei mir bist du schoen…

We swayed slowly on the dance floor, I knew you were the fairest in the land.

Please let me explain… 

Preservation of value can only continue until end of the road. With no direction in mind, morality lingers in limbo like a lost kid wonders aimlessly in crowded mall. We remember to keep dignity and virtue in place but we can hardly explain. Until all the alcohol wash away our sanity, we will never be able to be see the true colors of ourselves. I’ve lost my consciousness, but at least I still have other things to follow.

I thought I’d lend her a piece of mind, but then I could not remember what I left behind…

Did I surrender my … my… it’s something I can’t define. 

With no queen by his side, he has lost his reason to conquer. With nothing to conquer, he could not navigate his way in the wilderness. Soon as he could no longer navigate to lead, he lost his royal pawns. With no pawns by his side, he became a coward, like a sheep in wolf’s skin; he became just a name, a name no longer worth to mention. The eternal king was stripped bare by eternality. The eternal king took something from time and time took something from him.  

The sword seemed lighter and the king could no longer tell if he was holding the it or the sword was holding him.

“Waiting, fading, floating away…. Waiting, fading, floating away….” The eternal king sang under his breath as he slowly losing his grip on sanity. 

sometimes…  just sometimes…  you want to punch your ex in the face so hard the nose won’t stop bleeding. 

Once the equation has been made, there’s no turning back. There’s no do over, and there certainly is no refund. 

The idea has already been extrapolated. The feeling has already been combusted. Infatuation, as we speak, exploded like a fragment of an experimentation. The only thing left are the speckles of doubt and hesitation.

Fear is the most powerful weapon ever created.

It is a self-sustaining organism feeds solely from its own victim. It is more contagious than any virus and virtually indestructible. Most importantly, it often cannot be partitioned from love.

Gradually, Paul began to have this peculiar feeling that seemed very unfamiliar. It all started as an idea in the simplest form. An idea that was not crafted with objectivity initially yet somehow derived into something more elaborated. Paul attempted his best to visualize this foreign sensation in his body. He pictured this feeling as an acorn in the back of his neck while it stretched within his body in a sort of fluid-motion that he imagined how roots would grow. This feeling kept on elongating and growing until Paul began to feel a tingling sensation like static chewing through his nerve. And with his best attempts, Paul could not manage to suppress this virus-like feeling subjugating his body. Eventually, Paul was hopelessly devoured by this feeling until he was breathless. Paul thought this was what it must feel like being in love for the very first time.

What Paul actually experienced, was fear. Fear that was born from distrust. 

The transition between point (A) to point (B) is constant. Although under different circumstances, the length between point (A) and point (B) can vary, the change is still nevertheless valid.

The constancy of the transition of point (A) to point (B) can be understood quite simply. When subject (a) is influenced by force (b), subject (a) accelerate into the state (c) as result. The transition between (a) and (c) will be in linear series,  thus conclude (a) x (b) —> (c) and (c) = (A) —> (B).  IF by any additional manipulation is enforced between (a) to (c), (c) will remained arbitrary despite the alteration of distance from (A) to (B). 

Now imagine this, if an astronaut was pushed by his own force or any other source of energy, the astronaut will drift linearly until another source of force alter the direction. The inevitability of slowly drifting in void of space for the astronaut is unavoidable, even if the linear direction of movement is shifted by any force given.

The transition between point (A) to point (B) is constant. Yes, to certain degree, the consistency of the transition can be comforting knowing subject (a) will always convey into state (c). But ultimately, the experience can be awfully numbing, like astronaut drifting in outer space with no sound, no light, no nothing.

Anxiety of separation bottled up like fermented soda. carbonation pushed against the copper cap with no sense of consequences. It’s hard to play cool under the pressure when you made me question my label, made me wonder if it’s worth to let go.

You showed me a world you hold, and before I know, I started to care.

It’s getting harder to not look back but…

“I tried to say goodbye I choke. Tried to walk away  I stumble. Though I tried to hide it it’s clear, I will crumble when you are not near.”