Saturday, January 23, 2021

Deep Under

 Deep under he is scared, scared of what could happen or what should happen. He is always on the edge, trying to achieve greatness in vain. He close his eyes and dream of himself being at the climax of his life, only to open them and realize that he is groveling in the dirt.

Life is not a wish-making factory, there is no stairway to heaven, albeit, we aren’t sure if heaven is a concrete matter or a fantasy of a life’s suffering.

Trying to carry his weight around on the Earth, he raise his head to glimpse of what he could become, if only he was someone else. Someone said to him “Someday you will take your own life, to leave a mark here in this world” and since then, he is scared, scared of what could happen or what should happen.

He walks with a quick smile, a fading one. He jokes to make others think he is at peak shape, he plans his future with his loved ones, a lie in its essence. He plans ahead of what he knows he will not reach. His life is like a lit cigarette, the more everyone takes a puff out of it the less he has to live, to struggle, but he also slowly kills everyone around him.

His pen and his guitar are helping him trudge through the mud, yet his pen and his guitar are drowning him in the upmost sorrow, a sorrow that is stabbing him with every breathe that he takes. His life blood pour out of the wounds, and everyone raises their cups to his fall. He did not go as a Julius Caesar, but like a mundane individual out of the billions in existence. “Love, you will someday achieve” they told him, but inside, he keeps the darkness close at heart as he knows that this will be the fuel for his writing and performance, this will be the thing that will keep him going. Going till when? he doesn’t know, but what he knows is that to use the darkness as such will surely cost him everything.

Not everything, his only respite is that the darkness will leave behind sadness, his mark.

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Phobia

 He was plagued by innocence in his daily life. Fun, friends and school, that is all he knew. Life was just a carousel of pleasures, the island offered more to him that he could enjoy. Mortality was just a faraway speck of dust in his mind, for again, he was as naive as children were. Life went on, he constructed a facade for himself, an unconscious shield to the harshness of this world which we call home.

He had a guide in life, one that did not ever let go of his frail hands. The almighty shone light on his path, and he pursued this light with fervour, always feeling like he owe these invisible powers something for the positive turns of his life.

Yet the embers of his life quickly died out, realisation hit him, life showed its real nasty colors. 

His guide and model figure ascended the heavens, he was left alone trodding in the darkness. Everything was sudden, his dreams plummeted faster than everything else. 

He woke up to a happy morning, and came home to find the death of the one he considered equal to the almighty. His path was just a descent from there on, one that even Dr. Faustus would have refused. Let the bygone be gone, and pick up from there to build something new...they all said that at the climax of the tragedy, but who really managed to see this through? Certainly not Macbeth.

This left a scar, deep inside where no help could reach. The boy now man, has only one phobia, to see his phone ring with a call coming from home. He always pick up the phone with his heart racing and his sweat cold, mentally preparing himself, albeit in vain, to receive the bad news. It never came. Although never is a heavy word in this context, life goes on, and never becomes the future.

Deep Under

 Deep under he is scared, scared of what could happen or what should happen. He is always on the edge, trying to achieve greatness in vain. ...