Winter....

I think my brain has frozen over..... I just can't seen to able to write anything.
Any time I pick up the pen, I'm just like, what the hell! Dammit. I just want to write and I can't And its suffocating me.
Its like I'm just waiting to go off...like I'm just going to burst at any moment!
But I don't wanna! I want to write like I used to.
But I can't. God dammit!
This writers block....not a fan of it. Bleh!
Its like I'm holding my breath and can't seem to let go even though I desperately want to. Arggghhhh!
Somebody....help me!
---------------------
Phew!
That felt good.
Letting off of some steam, and all.

Hole in My Pocket

There's a hole in
my pocket.
Its a sweet
cool thing,
there's a hole in
my pocket,
it lets me do my thing.
I have an itch at
my thigh,
didn't know
how to get it,
but now
I'ma lucky,
coz there's
a hole in my pocket.
I put my
finger through it,
and wiggle ,
it around
its a sweet,
cool thing,
this
hole in my pocket.
Its my own
secret door,
like in
the victorian era,
its makes me
feel so cool,
this hole in my
pocket.

Hidden

The chair creaks
the sound echoes
in the silence of the room.
The sound of
my pen
scratching away
at the paper
is loud,
and daunting.
Word after word
I write
and word after word
I cut,
nothing seems good.
Restless, I feel,
the words locked
inside of me.
Wanting to get out,
escape
but not being able
to do so.
Hidden from me,
my words abandon me
in this time
of need.
Silence surrounds me,
suffocating me,
strangelling me.
Like a noose
around my neck,
tightening with
every passing minute.
I scramble for
breath,
and my words.
I feel like a
ticking bomb,
waiting to explode,
at any moment.
But still they hide,
beneath their hidden perch.
My words, oh words,
where have you gone?
Come back to me,
I promise
to fully pay my respects to you, and
I will
pay my dues to you.
Just come back.

20.2.2013

you waited too long,
and now its too late.
the time is up,
the countdown is over,
the finish line is in sight,
the end is near.
like pulling
a rug from
underneath me,
you took me
by surprise.
stumbling
unsure of my footing,
the ground is wobbly
beneath me.
like standing on
the edge of a
cliff
one slip
and
I fall.
down
down
down
into the looming
darkness.
but I will
find my
footing.
and i will be stable
and i will take
that leap
and fly down,
flying
and i will swim
to the
shore.

Her Corner

There she stands
at a street
corner.
In fish-net stockings
a miniskirt
and a dirty white tank
showing off
months of grime.
Her fingers
hold a smoke,
though it
doesn't get to her
dry lips.
When I pass by,
her lips form
into a teasing,
and what she hopes to be
a flirty smirk.
But it doesn't reach her eyes,
her eyes
tell a different story.
Heavy and dull
they tell her story
because everyone's got one.
There are circles under them,
dark purple,
they speak of long
and sleepless nights.
Her hair fall
limp,
and her body thin,
her clothes
barely holding up on her
body.
The street is
empty,
but I watch her.
Now that no one's here,
she throws away
her smoke
and her shoulders
slump.
Now that the street
is empty,
I watch
two tears fall
on her dirty tank,
soaking the cloth.
Someone comes up
and she stands
straight,
no sing of tears
except of the two dots
on her dirty
tank.
Slowly, she walks with him,
back straight
into the light of the
street.
But her eyes
lose their light
and I watch her
until she disappears
around another corner.

Yearning To Be An Adult

As a kid,

you wonder

how to be an adult

to talk

to walk

to behave like them

is one of our favorite pastimes.

We never get enough

of it.

We anticipate 

the day when we

finally turn to adults.

When we get to do

what we want.

Freedom, no care

and superiority

all these

glittered like gems 

in our childish eyes.

Waiting for us to

grab them

and enjoy them.

But I guess

the saying

"all that glitters is not gold"

is very much true.

It really isn't what

we had thought it out be.

What we had 

seen as glittering gems,

was nothing but,

shiny rock.

Rocks that were

buried underneath 

countless layers of

responsibility, fears,

doubts, insecurities

and judgment.

That by the time 

we even get to the

shiny rocks

they have already

lost their shine

and are brittle

After having born

such burden.

I guess, 

being an adult is not

all its made out to be.

For I long for the

childhood

that I wasted 

yearning to be an adult.

Black Hole

Everything
seems lost,
like a fog,
it settles around me.
Thick and unforgiving,
making my sight
blurry.
Don't know
which path I have taken,
Don't remember
the path I had taken
Reality and fantasy
Dream and nightmare
Don't know
one from the other
Merging into each other
like a complicated maze
from which
the key is hidden from me
to its escape.
Like a black hole
this feeling
sicks me in
till there is no more to take
and no more to give.