the worthy one

so precious, trembling
it gives me life,
and yet,

having been broken,
trampled upon,
by careless feet,
and dirty hands,

it whimpers.

ah helpless thing,
i've exposed you way too
carelessly,
i'm sorry,
and now i'm reaping the consequences.

who is worthy to hold you?
to feel your touch,
you have so much
to give,
i know
you let too much
get ahold
of you,
too soon.

i must lock you up,
and hide the key
in One who knows
of the worthy one,

who loves and serves
His Son
whose humility
will have won
him you,

patience,
peace...

tremble no more,
no man shall hurt you,
while He holds you.

identity crisis

je sais pas toujours...

ifs fill me up like
itis from a plateful of doubts piled up
and what-ifs that i didn't get to taste
cuz i'm still running on empty
hungry for what everyone seems to have.

knowing that i have
aucune idée
what is going on around me
Was machen Sie heute Abend?
je sais pas toujours.

some days,
i forget how long i've lived,
i forget my age,
it's just a number...isn't it?

i feel like a midget amongst giants
in an expectation room
lined up
i can't even reach the stage.

i'm in the middle of my lifestory
and i've lost the page
i've lost the grip of where i'm supposed to be.

who am i?

je sais pas toujours...

my name is Ellipses...
i have framed exclamation marks all over my walls,
i recall: i've thought those dreams achievable,
but i didn't know that the clock was racing against me
nobody had told me
that time is evil
threatening me with interrogations
cornering me in the dark with sharp question marks

who am i?
je sais pas toujours.

An Insomniac Dreams

An Insomniac
Dreams
of impossible things
wrapped in hope-dashed irony;
Needless to say,
he is not the least bit
happy, since

An Insomniac
Rests
in lofty fantasies
that hover above
her head at night,
and haunt her days
with shattering echoes
that drop slowly in
slow motion
never to
fall
into
place.

Insomniacs sleep
on rainbows
where youth grows,
and love shows,
and
trials die young;
where unsung melodies ring
laughter-covered door
bells, and lavender leaves
fall gently on the
bottom of your feet.

A treat.
Beat.
Achey.
Weariness wears me
upon its shoulder,
draped accross its back.

A jacket.

Blanketing.

Cold sores blatantly blinking away disappointments.

An Insomniac Dreams
in the cold , late , December
They rest in their Tomorrow
awake without slumber.

You sing it back to me

Friend, You know the song in my heart
and when i've forgotten the words,
You sing it back to me.

You see my soul's melody,
and You quote my dreams:
moment by moment,
fleeting feelings held locked
down by pure sincerity.

Because of You, I fear not
of yesterdays chasing me down
through bad dreams like a
chokehold, no
I've let go of those chains,
they no longer cling to my
desperate fingertips; free
to be held by You.

I always knew,
that we've known each other in Tomorrow,
and because You're here,
Today is Beautiful.

angsty free verse untitled

since i'm not one to gloat of success
when it comes to matters of the heart

since i've been just a victim
of pretty messes that jerks like to make
as if they were little boys playing in the sand
and my head was a sandbox
just so disposably unimportant,
keep me confused i remember the past
well.

so since at least
i've made wisdom of my experiences,
re-hashed pieces of broken dreams,
to discreetly understand the 20/20 of hindsight-ness

i feel so desiring of this
ignorant bliss,
that i seem so alienated from.

cursed observations,
realizations,
can't you leave me alone?

i hate knowing too much of fakery.
i know its too faces too well,
and their masks even better,
and they plant bitter seeds of irony in my soul.

cleft on this, no remnants lie of hope anymore,
keeping up with lives, real resentments grow against
even supposed friends'
because my eyes are witness to
vices of humanity.

is this keeping me
far from lovely happiness?

cloudy mists of
fists still clenched,
i feel too inclined to anger.

ashamed.

still me, still waters,
reproached,
purge out these weaknesses,
though strong in ideals,
i've been a prisoner to my dreams.

Caesar's Avonlea

if pictures could only
be moments
attainable,

i'd step into the simplest of times,
and stay forever.

why are imagined others so much better
than the close reality?

but life does not wait,
it is not at all patient...
as seconds pass and build
a mountain
of hopes and dreams
piled higher on top of me
heaps of things i love
but can never enjoy it seems

i just want something
Priceless

speak to me
like Friends,
Romans
Countrymen

listening leaned , loaned,
you've come to bury me
I know
and praises are all adrift from this:

old sadness
keeps to memories,
clings to fiction,
dreamless sleeps.

i am a Rose
withering in the rainfall

i was meant for the islands,
and landlocked i've been kept at bay.

Conquering my garden shed,
no flowers lay before me,

these roots run deep
my petals red,
and gray lilting clouds
hover endlessly...

like waves that crash,
against tomorrow,
still i look back
to cherished "Avonlea"

pretty brown eyes

pretty brown eyes,
batting so distinctly,
loving every look it beckons its way.

every move,
fronting of purity,
sensing every guy that notices its sway.

you say,
i'm made of innocence,
i lavish myself with only influence
so good,

but i see,
underneath this so -called beauty,
pretenses i hate, why must they be
in the hollow of your soul?

fences, i feel
growing up between us,
i can't help but defend myself
when facades leak through
and i'm nearby.

pity, i loved
getting to know
but maybe too much is never the answer.

can't make myself full of ignorance now,
i know, but can i
somehow
still smile sweetly on,
in your presence, i live but not dwell...
i've learned to make shells,
and bubble wrapped apathy

that lives inside me.