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You came at a bad time.

A terribly, terribly bad time.

You showed up the moment I couldn’t stand to touch you.

I was afraid you were never going to come.

I should have been glad you came, but why am I not relieved?

Is it that crippling fear that the moment I touch you, you fade away like a ghost?

Is it that you might be a whistleblower looking for an insecurity to use against me later?

Or is it that you are trying to distract me from tending to my garden before it dies of thirst?

I want to shout, “Why didn’t you come sooner?!”

I want to shout, “Where were you when I needed you most?!”

I want to yell at the top of my lungs, “Would it kill you to tell me what’s driving you away from me?!!”

But I am too nice. Too kind and gentle to scream and point to the elephant in the room.

The very elephant that a sorcerer pulled out of his hat and crippled both of my limbs.

I never wanted to call for help because it reinforces the notion that I should still be in high school.

I’ve crawled around all year avoiding the other teenage drama queens that worship dragons.

Seems like they forgot that dragons like to steal our fortunes and our hearts. Before they eat them.

Spending time with my open-minded little brother has planted a seed of doubt in my head.

A seed that gets me thinking that all love does to me is waste my time experimenting with false hope.

My imaginary nights with a fallen angel goes along the lines of;

“Yes, yes, honey, shower me with hugs and kisses. Oh, my love, how I yearn for you.

Pleasure me with your lust until the water in your veins runs out and you become a raisin.

Only then, will I toss you in the sun and wonder why the hell I’ve never gotten lucky.”

When will the water cycle end for the both of us?

What compels Venus to bewitch me to make bad choices?

Why else do you think independent seekers with degrees in hand avoid commitment?

Our grandparents and parents are more patient than our generation is now

Because compared to us, they tended to their gardens and their raisins.

You did a bang-up job tending to me by showering me with promises you can’t keep,

With complex wisdom about human nature, stories of your struggle to get your education over with,

And the snuggles and touches that I wished were real more than the chains I dream of shattering.

You’ve made this game look so easy, you know?

All that had impressed me about you lately is how you’ve lured me into your arms,

Only to neglect me without warning when the sun was at its hottest.

Part of me does not wish to see you go because I tolerate the pain that your absence has left behind.

You scarcely have time on your hands, but would you care to join me for a cup of jasmine tea?

It won’t take long. What I want to know next is what else is new that you have yet to tell me?

Compartmentalization and categorization are such crucial aspects that dictate how we engage our reality

Is that a bomb or a clock?

A beloved or a stranger?

The ability to categorize is surely a primordial mechanism that enhanced one primal objective

Survive and reproduce

This means that

That is, or is not, a threat to my survival

I ask myself

Does this compartmentalization… this categorization, permeate my personality?

My me.

Is who I am at any given moment an amorphous, dynamic transition from one category to the next? or is who I am a cast that has not yet cured by the apathy of time?

If the latter, is there time left to influence this structure that will gradually, but inevitably, relinquish its malleability? If the former, am I frozen in a perpetual state of limbo - an individual, but dividable?

Am I discrete or am I a spectrum? Am I both and neither? like the very matter that comprises me?

This juxtaposition only recapitulates the riddle. It does not answer.

This is an irony that me, me and me, marvel.

and I'll find my way back and fill every crack
of what I dared to abandon and lack
As I hid under a shadow and erased my name
Because all others thought I was just a game

To take the needles called imperfections out of my heart
and use them as the strength to guide me a better part
Where the papers of my chapter aren't so wrinkled and illegible anymore
and I open my real eyes and to the light, beckoning, a real door

To my surprise, all is shining and ever free
and the clear sparkle of waters bring to reflect the real me
So, then, what brings you, what monster are you, foul mirror?
To sacrifice my time and what I hold ever dearer?

I ask you then, will it be a face, or will it be my words?
Or do my words mean nothing, flocking appeal to idle herds?

Bring to me please, the powerful quality and grace of personality
and let beauty paint my face, beauty associated with the pureness of my mentality

ARE WE JUST A LOAD OF ATOMS   Artizan  2014 

Are we just a load of atoms

Or made of different flavours

Or electronically controlled

To show our strange behaviours

What shapes our personality

Is certainly in question

And if I act abnormally

It’s just my brain’s suggestion

So many theories of the psyche
It’s difficult to chose

Am I an intuitive extrovert

Or just get on people’s nerves

Some people may be quite reserved

And others rather brash

Who really knows the reason why 

Personalities tend to clash 

Untouchable

Unknowable

Intangible

Deeper darkness lurking in the twilight,

Murky depths, rejected by the sunlight.

Monsters creeping in the dark, 

Gleaming eyes filled with savagery, 

Mouths filled with glistening teeth.

I have walked amongst apparitions. 

I have faced demons and gods. 

No foe or ally is greater than myself.

The split, the divide, is as

Different as day and night, 

Greater than the space

Between the darkest point of the ocean

And the stars. We exist

Between the realms.

Aware of both, grasping one, 

Fearing the other,

When nothing truly exists. 

For what is the self other than

A collection of thoughts, 

Of ideas, a ghost?

You, me, people,

I could be mistaken,

Because I have been,

Often,

But---

I do think,

That people have a right,

To inflect a smidgen,

Or a bit,

Or a touch,

Of their personality,

Into all they do,

And too,

They have, at the same time,

A responsibility to,

When in conversation with others,

For reason of accomplishing a task,

Or even just enjoyment,

Or making small talk,

To acknowledge to some degree,

The other person's personality,

And assess to it, a like or dislike,

And either chuck it, 

And focus on the subject matter 

Of the conversation,

Or enjoy it as they choose,

But certainly not allow 

For your like,

Or dislike,

To control or influence them,

In their evaluation process

On a given topic, and then 

Take out aggression 

On an individual

For their inability to

Place their feelings

About one's personality aside.

But alas! There IS a viable solution

For such individuals, which would be,

To purchase one dozen eggs,

Because if someone's personality

Bothers you, you can then 

Remove one from the carton,

And suck on it, 

And if it breaks,

You still have 11 more,

Just be careful of the shell.

9:32 PM 6/20/2013

©

I am myself
I won't be nobody
Of what essence is the
moon's immitation of the sun?
When the Lord of the heavens
has blessed it with it's own
Unique radiance...
Illumination, radiating beauty

I am myself
I won't be nobody
Why should the river envy the ocean?
When the maker of water
Has given it it's taste, it's lovely tide
And with its gentle smile
to the face of the sun

I am myself
I won't be nobody
The dew can't be like the rain
Why should it race to be?
When they both are from the sky
With the dew's soothing touches 
And grace all over the earth

I am myself
I am not nobody
I can't be everybody
'Coz I am somebody
Me...I am myself
I am unique
And I value my uniqueness