The Bleakness

staring into space
watching as the stars
the stars they seem to fly by

if time is as it is
am I going a lil too slow
or is this a dream to awake from

tired and wasted
needless lies
untold truths
I cannot die

the eyes they hunt
high and low
seeking an answer
for what I not know
beyond the desolation
bleakness lies
the bleakness lies

comfort words
a tad too little
whatever am I feeling

fast forward bit
see what's in it
the sunburnt thirsty red machine

what is it I'm seeing
I wonder too late
but the sun and the sand
kills not the appetite
I'm a grass
planted with a desire
never to wither
never to dry



A story

A story that comes from the unknownst depths of a human heart. What can the heart know that the brain does not? Like the rushing wind, the speed the brain goes, but the heart takes it all slow. Oh what does it knows? The brain sings. What can the heart think of that I haven't already thought of? Is the heart as big as I am, with countless entities blazing away, always churning out countless memories, lost or retain, it's all the same. The brain is big, and the brain knows it.

What about the heart? The heart knows what the brain doesn't. The heart senses things in a different way the brain does. It collects information not by the different organs, but by the waves zipping in the air. Unseen, unheard, untouched, unknown to anything the brain has ever gotten before. Oh yes, the heart knows. In a different way. The heart does feel, but not with the sense of touch, it hears, but not with ears, it sees, but not with eyes, it taste and smell, with a different mind. The heart, a mind of it's own. Never really known.

How do you feel? A question repeated all around the globe. The unseen force of emotions behind it. How do you really feel?

I woke up.

These endless dreams, the incessant thoughts. Does anyone knows how I feel? Quite the opposite. Do I know how you feel? Philosophies, oh they present endless trains of thoughts, minds split over religion. Dead in the ways of relations the people are. What can really explain what the heart thirst and long to know? Even the greatest rivers and the deepest oceans cannot fill what the even the heart cannot explain through the different senses it possess.

From the deepest recess of the mind, my brain argues. Seeking to find out the information that it always thought it had already figure out. What can the heart know that I do not? The brain continues. Tired. I can stand it no longer. Brain, the power to inform, the power to contain. It is potent. It is sick. The brain does not see the trap it has fallen into, it does not sense what it had already become. Deep to the core, the slickness of darkness travels. Only the heart feels its presence in the body. And the heart knows all is not well.

I woke up again, the movement of the wind upon my face.

Into a meadow so green I cannot believe my eyes. What has become of the drab and dull world I have come to know. Then I see it, drifting away into the unknown. There it minimize, until it was no more. Oh the world I come from, where have you gone? Abandoned into this new world. On my own, I set out, seeking to rest the relentless crush of emotions my heart felt, and the endless pounding of the brain.


Inside out

I walked on, days seem to past, though I know not the time. This strange new world, it reeks of a long gone species. I know not, and my brain searches for the information long forgotten. The nose, it retains the most memory of what it has sensed. Where has it gone to now? Has the power of the brain wane?

No! Never! It screams. My head hurts, I can feel the soundwaves bouncing through my head. Am I going mad? Why has my brain become so alive all of a sudden. And I felt the absence of my heart. Through the walk, I reasoned it all out, I must have been in some alternative universe. Wait, back to the heart. Where has it gone to? Has it fled from the rantings of a madman?

It must have, there is not a single sign of it. It felt like emptiness, as though the heart has never existed in my entire life.

I walk, and then into a door. I did not realise it until I saw the post. I walked into a door.

Rememberance. I remembered. The long gone smell, the stench. I remembered it all so clearly. The memory etched on the outer door of my mind, has been turned inside out, so that I may once again connect to it. The brain, it works. I have control. I knew it, the brain will pull through. Back to it. I hate the smell. But it is everywhere.

The green has turned into brown. The fields has turned into soil. What? This place, again. Just in a different shade, a different color. All is gone, but it has returned. It seems so familiar. Wait, the very particles of the soil scream out at me. Wait! Another word, another phrase, it forms into a sentence I heard a thousand times over. I've been waiting, all my life. And so now I wait, as usual.

I waited. And waited. It never ends it seems.

A call, I talk, I blog.

- to be continued -