To write is to bleed.

To write is to become vulnerable,
to surrender our bare souls to the page.
Our flesh and blood:
a sign of existence.

So bleed,
it is proof that you are alive.



I forgot to do one yesterday (my bad), so I’ll do two today instead.

#8: Write about two people seeing each other for the first time.

Your eyes seduce me,
Alluring and seductive,
The hint of embers in your dark eyes hold no remorse,
No hesitation as they pull me in.

Your eyes lure me in,
Never once blinking away,
Your stare burning into my eyes,
Your grasp searing my skin into yours.

Your eyes entrap me,
The smoky look in your eyes,
As you grab me close towards you,
Almost as if you are afraid I will flee.

(Don’t worry I will not leave.)
(I am yours for all eternity.)
(Even if my flesh turns to mud.)
(Even if my heart turns to ash.)

Don’t become an adult.

#7: Write a compelling argument pushing the worst advice you’ve ever been given.

You know, there comes a time when a child fully grows into an adult, expected to carry the burdens of reality even when they aren’t fully prepared for it. This spells trouble, when you are crushed by the overwhelming expectations and have no tools against it.

So I say to you, don’t become an adult. There are absolutely no positives to become one, I say out of experience. As an adult, I have looked back so many times, jealousy has always overcome me whenever I see children and teenagers living a grand time, worry-free of bills and debt. I used to have those times, but only fleetingly as a child, and never again as an adult. I would never have the time again to playfully slide down in the playground, or to ride the swings vigorously.

But when I do, oh the stares! So much judgment from society! As a kid, you aren’t judged upon by your actions. Society would blame the mistakes on their parents (the adults), and believe that you were exempt from your mistakes because “You didn’t know any better”. You would never be able to excuse yourself so easily the moment you grow up, as if adults are suddenly meant to shed their childhood and bloom into an utterly boring human being (more like a robot, if you ask me). What joy does being an adult even bring?

It is so much easier not to become an adult, to retreat back into your childish features and never have anything to be expected of you ever again. Unfortunately, no such treatment currently exists, and all forms of ‘acting’ (reliving your childhood is never merely acting, I say) are condemned by the people around you. When it does, I will make sure to inform you, but for now, I strongly advise you to follow my lead and drop everything you’re doing.

Had a deadline due for tomorrow? Who cares! Need to have a meeting with your boss next week? Head to Hawaii instead! Be free of the shackles of responsibility, and live your life as you will it. There are far more advantages of living a free life, and if you think “Then who will do our work?” Don’t worry, there will always be someone else to do your work! But for the rest of your life, just sit back, relax, and don’t let any of your responsibilities bring you down into a boring shell of a human being. You deserve it.

I am.

#6: Change your point of view.

Don’t tell me what to do, you little piece of shit.
I know exactly what’s going through your head right now.
Yeah? It ain’t good, ain’t it.
You’re going to get it now.

What? You think I’m not good enough for you?
Bullshit, I’ve always been good enough,
Better, actually,
You’ve just never been good enough for me.

You think you deserve all this?
All your friends and your family,
You think you deserve them?
What have you done to deserve them?

You want to run, huh?
You’ll never be able to run away from me.
No matter how hard you try,
You can never run away from the truth.

You want to be better for me?
Then suck it up and work so that you deserve me,
Because you will never be worthy of your heart,
Unless you sacrifice everything you have.


I said I was going to do five yesterday, but then realised I don’t have it in me to write five in one go. Instead, I’ll write two today.

#5: Rant about love.

What is love but an illusion of the mind, an illusion of society?
Its only reason for existing is to delude us into faith
while the world around us crumbles into nothingness.

What is love but meaningless happiness?
Its only purpose is to bind us together
Even if it drags us down to Hell.

What is love but an impossible challenge?
Forcing us to always hope for a rarity
And always disappointing us in the end?

What is love but a spice of life?
Unneeded but
Flavourless without.

What is love
But without it
No one is alive.


#4: An Emotional Rollercoaster.

The smell of vomit and the taste of blood was all that he could sense now, nothing else was of interest to him, yet at the same time, everything else was what he wanted. “No,” he told himself, “I need to save him.”

He swayed forward, his lumbering leg digging itself into the ground, providing support for the rest of his body. His threw his other leg forward, then his other leg, and in this strange dance did he march onward. He disregarded the outstretched arms looking for refuge, shaking one off when a hand grasped his leg. The moans of demise resonated in his eardrums, “I can’t save you,” he announced, “I can’t save any of you.” In time, the arms began to drop, and he was allowed passage to march.

There, in the middle, he saw him, circled by his enemies. The dreadful monsters, a mob surrounding a little innocent boy who did nothing wrong. The legs that once felt like iron now became feathers, and he rushed towards the boy. He lifted his third arm up, the one made out of metal and filled with death, “Get away from him!” he shouted with empty threats, “Get away or I’ll kill you all!”

Gunfire erupted in a split second, with chaos overthrowing rationality on the battlefield. He didn’t know who shot who, he didn’t even know he had his finger on the trigger until he saw one of the men explode. His finger rested upon the trigger, as his arm flailed around from side to side, and he charged towards them with a roar. He watched as brains burst out of their cages, flying free into Heaven high above. The sand was painted with a dark shade of red, a coat of red from his enemies and of himself.

His knees weakened and his body failed him, yet he smiled as he fell into the red sand. Peace had regained his heart, a momentary silence of the maddening thoughts in his head before he would pass. It was over, it was finally over, and his smile was wide and genuine.

And the last thing he sees before he dies was the crumpled head of his little boy falling down.

Don’t go.

#3: Provide your stream of consciousness during the the worst nightmare you’ve ever had.

What are you doing here in my room? Wait, hang on, are you sick? Oh no, you’re sick. You’re going to die tomorrow, aren’t you? I don’t know how I know, but I know you’re going to die tomorrow. Mum and dad knows too, don’t they? Yes, they do. This time around we know.

You don’t look sick, what are you sick of? But I’m glad we know you’re going to die tomorrow, we can spend the entire day today together. Our very last day, at least we know you’re going to die tomorrow. Here, sit on the bed with me, I know you’re in pain, but at least we can spend this time before tomorrow comes by.

Will I awake soon? No, please, I don’t want to wake up. Somehow I know that if I wake up, you won’t be here with me anymore. I know you won’t be here. Please don’t go. Look, I’m hugging you. I’ve never hugged you before, never once have I ever wanted to hug you. Never once have I ever told you I loved you before. Please, I’m telling you now, I’m hugging you now. So don’t go.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up don’t wake up

Please let me stay in this dream for longer.


Calm me,

#2: Water.

In a way, a continuation of an old poem I’ve written called Blue.

Calm me, water.
Bring me to peace,
Bring my thoughts to a still,
Give me the resonance of the waves,
Of a never-ending shore.

Calm me, water.
Give me the air in my lungs,
Fill them with water,
Not knowing what it is,
Delude me into life.

Calm me, water.
Give me peace,
From the endless war of life and death,
Give one its victory,
And tell me the score.

Calm me, water.
Give me an illusion,
Of a still life,
Let me dive deep
And help me find my soul.

Kill me, water.
Bring me to peace,
Bring my thoughts to a still,
Give me the resonance of the waves,
Of a never-ending shore.

You were right about me,

#1: You were right about me.

You were right about me,
I was not the ever-loving girl everyone says,
Not the kind but shy one in the corner,
Not the reliable one everyone goes to.

You were right about me,
I stabbed those who crossed me,
I brought the ones closest down to Hell,
I sent them away,
Only for them to come back burnt to a crisp,
(Perfect like pork).

You were right about me,
I could not help you
When the world was against you.
I shunned you
Not out of hatred
But out of pity.

You were right about me,
But you were looking through stained glass,
A cracked one,
Distorting your sight,
Turning the little girl into a monster.

You were right about me,
You were wrong about me.

Reading poems by other people

Has made me feel so small. The number of words that go into each poem, times by a million, could drown me as a tsunami would.

It’s interesting, overwhelming. The words that pass my lips would never be able to amount to anything special, or so I feel.

I feel as if I am merely deluding myself that the words I say are important, that the words everyone else say are important.

Perhaps they aren’t. But that doesn’t stop the wave from crashing down upon us.