Hello Realism

You can delete the pictures of all your bad memories Ignore the pain 

Laugh at all that’s laughable 

But there’ll always be that nagging question, wound and demon that continues prodding at you all the time while you go on with your life. 

 The little glitter jars that you found pretty will sparkle to mock you because darlin’ the demon has now got to you.

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Wondrous Youths

My heartbeat like a wanderer, lost on a silent night, going over ledges and thinking about life. What are risks and what’s life without them? Jump into the water with faith curled up in your fist. Shoes holding experiences and crossing what can’t just be what anyone but a wanderer could see. My heartbeat is like a lost wanderer testing the waters, crossing every one but one, later in the end did I realise that the heartbeats would soon be none. 

                                                           T. 

Paradise af

You see, I wasn’t a big fan of normalcy. So I climbed the limits as far as I could, almost as though to fly towards the sky. 

But we’ve all done our science and baby, I fell. I fell so so badly yet I still kept going.

And when I crossed what I could, I wasn’t even surprised or exhilarated. I’d seen the sky, it’s the same as yours. 

I’ve seen this town well, afar and up close but even as I climbed and climbed and climbed I asked to myself, why hadn’t I ever given ‘normal’ a shot?

The word itself was plagued by lies, so much that we all yell at families and friends and ourselves to be normal again. 

Baby, I’ve tried to cross and reach as far as the sky and fly. Soar, in fact but gravity pulled me back to be normal again and that was when I thought to myself whether we all feast upon lies, just like we do with food happiness and colours. Words are pretty, lies prettier, the truth? That’s my paradise and that’s my normal. 

                                                T. M. B

Lake or the Ocean?

I hide behind my mouth. Beneath my smile there lays a façade and a truth. 

Sometimes there’s so many of me that I’m so sick of it all. 

As the clock ticks, varieties of me dilute behind what I show to you and slowly I get tethered, I never intend for things like this to happen and sometimes I feel like a lake and as for the other times, my little lake brims unto the edge. 

My tiny lake overflowing while I still I hide behind my mouth

With façades and truths beneath my smiles,

Even as all this happens I cannot help but ask,

Little lake what’s up next? You’ve been flowing for miles. 

I try to belittle you but guess who’s winning the belittling game. What a petty little task?

Swallowing me whole making me spin and kick things and somehow I still sting. 

I wonder why, my little lake why do you do it all? What a shame, it’s all the same. 

Sometimes, just sometimes I like to think of what else you could bring. 

But I then think that I hope for too much even when I hope that you’re now tame. 

I hide behind my mouth. 

Beneath my smile there lays still, a façade, a truth. 

No matter how hard you try to let go of it, note that it isn’t a case of mere nail thinner. 

But do know, my dear ones that sometimes what I say to you is partly true too. 

Oh forget me being a little lake, 

My take on myself is merely just very unjust for I switch to whatever ends there may be, 

So forget me being a little lake, whatever I may be, wipe my words off the slate. 

I tend to go unpunished sometimes. 

Perhaps, I used to wonder, it’s the rules turning the lock and sealing my fate but now how I’d rather bend them all, yes, that’s been my new defining trait. 

Try to remove me, sure, but remember that the ocean isn’t just a case of mere nail thinner.

                                                        The Meticulous Button 

Thought Catalog #5

My words aren’t meant to contradict what I do, but the way I’m treated hurts the demon inside of me so much that it prods and kicks at me to let it out, the way I’m treated feels like deformed clay that anyone can leave a dent on. It burns right through my skin leaving me gasping for air; for I am indeed stuck in between, given too many thoughts, so many, that sometimes multiple demon babies grow up without notice. 

                                                            The Meticulous Button 

Domination/Submission 

Oh do you know about the old lady who replaced the picture of her dead son with his daughter? Their resemblance is striking and very coincidental, but what she forgets is that she isn’t him, she doesn’t know her, just assumes to, her perspective like a broken down road full of concrete buildings and damaged things. She finds that right. She finds that beautiful and smart. Her assumptions, speculations and judgments are her humour. But a few nights I’m sure she looks up at the ceiling questioning everything like everyone does.

 Do you know of the men begging for customers to come inside their store and to have some tea, 

Hoping that they’ll buy something just so that they’ll fall right in with society. Soon they’ll all die not making a difference, 

You’d say I’m pessimistic and silly but I’d say that I’m realistic and right. They die not making a bare change, 

Selling half broken things to half broken people with fully broken minds. 

Praying and starving for a better world but how can the lack of food help you accomplish your goals with a lack of everything?

                                                                      The Meticulous Button