Sonnets

Looking through some of the old documents on my computer, I found two sonnets I wrote not so long ago. I love sonnets; they're my favourite type of poetry next to haiku. Anyway, here they are. Of course, the one about death doesn't relate to me personally.

A Sonnet for an Early Death

Sweet Death, take me now, let me feel your kiss,
Oh tender, upon these lively rosy lips
Take me while I am lovely and unique
I wish for you to free my soul forever
I yearn for your winter’s breath on my cheek
I wait and offer my sweet surrender.
Merciful Death, my skin is peachy with life
Yet here I wait to feel your crooked scythe
I wish not to burden a hole in the earth
When I am ugly and stricken with time
Take me while I’m pretty for all I’m worth,
Here I wait for Death’s bell to chime.
Be tender and be gentle, for you are not Greed.
 Sweet Death, take my youthful soul now I plead.

~

A Sonnet for Beauty

Oh how the mind is caught in misery

With naive thoughts of ugly beauty

Oh how it creeps through imagination

With soundless stealth and sheer motivation

Oh how it will make you doubt endlessly

And nothing could stop such damned jealousy

Which the mind will most conjure while consumed

Oh you will never realize you too are doomed

But something may come from endless longings

You may question beliefs and belongings

Somehow you may become free from misery

If you see that there is truth in beauty

And then there is finally hope alas

You know that you are beautiful, at last

A letter I hope you will someday read:

This is the letter:

It says:

Dear my friend,
I suppose it's too late to reminisce the times we missed. I feel like over these past years, we've been distancing, y'know. I mean, if it was meant to happen, I have no problems with that. Things change, what can you do? But just because things change, doesn't mean I like the changes. Honestly, I feel like I don't know you. I don't know what to say to you anymore and I can't even write your name here because I feel like I don't know it. The name I knew you by just doesn't seem to fit anymore. You're a stranger to me. If God meant this to happen, then I wish you a happy life. I'll be there for a while, but there will be a time maybe in the next decade when we will be total strangers. And that hurts. Some things just aren't meant to last a lifetime and I know friendships aren't the strongest bonds between two people, but I suppose I'll learn to accept that. One day, your name might not even ring a bell in my head. And I'm afraid of that. I don't want to forget you because I thought you more than just another passerby in my life. I thought you were a friend, my friend. And you still are, for now. However, if the space between us keeps widening, then I suppose we won't be friends. We're just too different now. Maybe it's my fault, and blame me if it is. I'll take full responsibility. I suppose I'm overreacting but maybe someday, I'll find this letter and remember you. And God, I hope I do. You changed me for the better, y'know. I've never been happier and I hope I've made you happy too. Maybe you'll scoff when you read this and wonder whether it's about you or not. Well it is. I hope you don't forget me either. Where ever your life takes you, I hope you remember me. And I hope you'll smile. You're so pretty when you smile. I'll miss you. I can't imagine how my life would be now if it wasn't for you. Maybe someday after our diverging paths have spanned out, they'll merge somewhere along the way and we'll meet again. And I could write for the rest of my life things I want to say to you now, but I'm not going to. For now, I'll just keep going. This isn't goodbye, no matter what you think. I won't say goodbye till the very end. I promise.

With love, 
a friend.

15 things I don't have the balls to say

• I've noticed but I'm not saying anything.
• You're finally getting what you've been giving for the past year.
• I don't need you.
• Tomorrow will be a better day.
• There's something in your teeth.
• My breath smells.
• Your breath smells.
• Stop walking in front of me.
• You've changed.
• You're insanely self-absorbed.
• So am I.
• What you've become is disappointing.
• You had potential.
• Such a waste.
• There is a God out there.

And sometimes at night time...

...I dream that you are there but wake holding nothing but the empty air ♪




I thought I'd use some hopelessly romantic lyrics in a blog on the day before Valentines Day. I'm not romantic in the slightest. I'm lonely.


But I love this song.

They spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever

Burgundy wine spiked with just a dash of vodka. Oh my, isn't this just wonderful my love? I watch with expecting eyes as you saunter to the refrigerator. You rest your hand against the sleek metal as you pull out another bottle of delicious wine. We shared the last bottle not five minutes ago. 

Can you remember the times where we swore we would only have one glass a night? Those nights seem so long ago. We were young, foolish even. But if we were really foolish then, what are we now?

The night passes so quickly. Soon the sun will rise and reality will dawn on us. The trance will be over, and the moment lost. Tonight is our last, my love. We swore it. We will remember it when the devil separates us. Life is cruel so death cannot be much worse. We die tonight, my darling. We both know it is the end, and we will go out in style.

Blood cries crimson tears down my neck. I feel them slipping from the shallow wound you created. We have practiced our satanic rituals. God does not watch over us any longer; he has turned a blind eye on us now. You walk back over with that bottle of wine. I pick up the vodka and let my tongue dance over the opening. You watch me with wanting eyes as I take a small sip. I savour the burning chill as you pour the wine into a glass that is stained with blood. I fill the empty space with vodka.

Your eyes are wild with chaotic thoughts. We don’t comprehend our actions. Our minds are hazy like an icy fog. I am lightheaded. I have lost so much blood but I don’t feel a thing. My heart feels warm. Tonight, I feel joy as we breathe our last.

As you pass me the glass of spiked wine mixed with blood, you sit next to me and bend your head down to kiss the blood oozing slowly from my neck. The blood on your lips makes my body to tingle in excitement. I take a sip of the intoxicating liquid and smile. You smile back at me, your porcelain teeth stained red.

I place the glass on the coffee table and pick up a shard of glass. It is from the mirror we broke earlier my love. You offer your wrist to me and I take it in my hand. The glass pierces your skin and you moan in delight. The sound makes me smile on the inside. You place your bloody wrist in my white blonde hair. You let your blood drip on me like rain. It splashes down my face and I feel the warmth on my cold skin. I take your wrist and kiss it. I kiss your blood and I kiss your soul. We our slowly killing ourselves, but you must know that I am doing it because I love you. You are killing me out of love. Never will we lust again, mon chéri.

Picking up the glass of wine, I take another sip to wash down your salty blood. I hand it to you and you too take a sip. You press your lips slowly and gently to the glass, leaving bloody imprints of your lips on the transparent chalice. You then place it back on the table and close the gap between us.

We hold each other in a tight embrace as we kiss deeply. I taste my blood in your mouth. I taste the sweet wine and the burning vodka. Your tongue sweeps mine slowly, lovingly. My hands clasp the roots of your fine hair for dear life. Your hands clutch my waist to pull me on top of you as you lie down.

The first signs of daylight are approaching. I breathe my last gulps of air. I do not regret this. You do not regret it either. We are dying for each other. You pick up a shard of reflective glass and let it graze my forearm. I feel no pain only a fine sensation. I too pick a shard of looking glass from the floor. I see dawn in the skyline. Persimmon orange bleeds through the delicate black blue of the sky as you bring your razor to my neck.

You press your lips against the tip of my nose. I see a tear roll down your cheek so I bring my shard to your neck also. You should not feel pain my love, emotional or physical. No longer are we human. We will kill each other now. We will die together in each other’s arms. No one will ever know why, even if they read this. They will not comprehend the sheer love and devotion behind our ludicrous actions.

Crimson now appears in the horizon outside your window. Such a spectacular view. Such a pity we will never see one like it again.

You close your eyes as you press the sharp shard against the fragile skin of my neck. I feel it touch the already sensitive nerves from where you touched me with your shard before. I exhale slowly through my parted lips as I press the razor sharp piece against the skin of your own neck. You exhale slowly also. You cannot see me through your closed lids. I will not close mine until the very end.

I do not feel pain at first. It feels as if everything in my body has been washed away with a wave of luxurious relief. I slice the shard against your neck and you gasp as your eyelids flutter open in shock. I cannot breathe any longer and neither can you. Your fine blood spills from your neck and washes my face. I watch you quickly die beneath me. I smile as I watch you pass away before me. 

Finally I lay my head to rest upon your dead chest to sleep the sleep angels have only dreamed of.

I don't know what the symbolism of this is, but I guess it's weird. I just found this when I was looking through old drafts on Blogger. I can say that I did write this and I don't know what I think about it.


Anyway, I was feeling creative and made a couple of tattoos. They are exactly the same, with different quotes. The images I used can be found here and here. No copyright infringement intended. The images I used are in no way my own. All I can say is that I manipulated them. I keyed in the text too.

The one on the left is 'Memento Mori'.

The one on the right is 'Memento Vivere'.

I like both of them. Not sure that I have the balls to get my wrists tattooed though.

A lie

Photoshop is another mask I admit I hide behind.

Change of heart

• I want to smile all the time
• I want to feel hollow during the hard times - so emotion doesn't make things worse
• I never want to cry from overwhelming sorrow
• I want to take care of my body by eating healthy
• I want to wear make up to hide my spots, not use it as a mask
• I want to help people
• I want to volunteer my time to help others
• I want to be thankful for everyday I'm given
• I want to make others happy
• I never want to put another person down again
• I want to be a better person
• I want to be thankful for everything I have
• I want to be thankful for the friends I have
• I want to live as if I'm going to die tomorrow
• I want to dream as if I'm going to live forever

Because we're only getting one chance at this life. Life isn't worth living unless you make every moment count.

Life's too short to dwell on yesterday

Ever since April, my endless urge to rewrite my book was never resolved. I don't know. Every time I stared at the first page, labeled 'Chapter One', read the first couple of lines, I just cringed away like it was from Satan or something. I never had the guts to just get sucked back into that world again. 

Sucked back into a world where there are magic and tyrants, blood and death, love and loss. All those things that are absent from reality. Sometimes I do wonder whether a creative mind is vulnerable to mental illness. A creative mind is an open mind. An open mind had the ability to imagine and through imagination, could illness sprout there? Like a fungus? Creeping, infiltrating? 

I'm not sure and I don't dwell on it.

I even stopped reading for a while. Throughout 2010, I doubt I finished a book. My mind drew a blank every time I looked at a page of text. There were no magical worlds in a fantasy novel, just a griege page with black text. There were no absent minded serial killers in crime fiction, just pointless words on what used to be a tree. 

But now, I've started reading again. I've started reading again like I used to. The words create pictures in mind, images, magic. There isn't text. There isn't paper. The characters are real people you learn to love and care about. The villains, you just love to hate. I find myself laughing. I find myself awake until five in morning, losing myself in fantasy, no thought for reality. Pangs of emotion float through my stomach, radiating from where the words touch my heart. 

I've missed being able to read like that. 

Now, I feel I can write again.