During the Night

There is just something about the darkness of the night that makes us that much more comfortable in saying things we never said before.
There’s that darkness that you think can shroud your identity, the only source of light is the moonlight that shines weakly.
The night is where your mind roams to places you have never thought about during the day, those hidden places where your secrets and long-hidden emotions stay.
The is that feeling of unease, the stillness in the air that makes you feel shivers down your spine.

The night can bring out many things, and most of them are not happy things.

There are no doors to bar in your dreams, no guardians to protect you. There are no boundaries, but perhaps that is what scares us in the night.




Have you ever had that moment where you just sat there reminiscing the past and start to feel the bubbling nostalgia? That feeling is how I feel whenever I look back in my life. Sometimes it aches so much, I wish that I could go back in time. The period where I was happiest, busy yet always filled with this deep satisfaction.

This nostalgia ulcerates, like a wound that hasn’t been treated properly. The pain of losing something so dear, is always such a crushing feeling. Whenever you touch it, you feel this jolt of agony run through your veins, as if the monster inside you has been awaken. You feel it’s hunger for the past, things that will never be again. The deep longing and lust for a time machine to throw yourself into and stay in the time where you were somebody.

Then you realise you’re being nostalgic again, you remind yourself you should always move forward. There is no going back, but still miles to go before you get to rest. Perhaps ten years later, the memory would be faded. But this moment, this feeling of nostalgia will stay until you die. 

Swinging mood.

I have always been a very emotional person, happy this second, mad the next. I sometimes feel like I’m on this roller coaster that is never-ending, even past death my feelings will linger. It is almost like the feelings I feel are not how I react to life, but a individual wild creature within me that has its own train of thought. 

I don’t know what triggers my mood swings most of the time. The swing just swings on its own dancing in the rain. It can suddenly be elating, like I have never been this happy in my life, happier than a child with a popsicle. Suddenly I will feel like I have never been this miserable, a deep melancholy that makes me feel ancient. The never-ending depression that shrouds me and pushes me down into the ice-cold water until I eventually suffocate. Like the sharp pain that one gets when you bite down on an ulcer, like a splinter in your finger, like a knife in your heart. Then you are happy again, like Cinderella on her wedding day, or when the squirrel finally gets the acorn in Ice Age

Then it repeats itself.

Over and over again.

Like a swing with endless lines of children waiting to be swung.

The Silent Ticking

If only we had heard the ticks,
the quiet, silent ticking. That ticking
would set off a blast in history.
The lives turned to dust.

Flying parts of flesh, 
charred and burnt.
Like wood under pressure
splinters to thousands of fragments.

Ticking slowly, the life 
trickles like a tap unable to stop.
Ignited and heated the bomb goes
off among the people with happy faces.

Off amongst the children,
off amongst the families,
off amongst the parents,
off amongst the ones we loved.


The sea came rolling from the stars,
salty droplets of rain
that dribbles
then stops.

The earth shakes, tremoring and
shaking out of control.
The waves finally calm.
There is nothing left but the pandemonium of one goodbye.

The Photograph

The faded black and whites with gray,
tell me just how we could portray
our futures tightly intertwined,
like tight-knit scarves and winding vines.

Those colours come in with a splash,
bright lights blare as “here comes the flash!”
Two souls lean in to fit the slot,
for fear they would just miss the shot.

Photos start whispering, tells the tale,
no one can do it without fail.
How can you turn them into life?
It’s still, but that’s why it won strife.

Elephant Gun — Beirut

If I was young, I’d flee this town
I’d bury my dreams underground
As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight

These lyrics just make me realise how precious time is, and how i shouldn’t waste my time squandering over silly little things.

Time to let go, live in the present. 

No regretting how I spent my youth.