Of open letters, Pt. 2

Dear Friend-of-convenience,

I regret the things I’m about to say.

I apologize for the things kept silent all these time. I was under the mistaken belief that my place as a friend is to remain hunkering under your colossal ego—or foolishness. That my duty as a friend is that I should hold my piece, and turn a blind eye to your faults.

Well, no more.

I refuse to confront you because it would be a pointless exercise anyway: you’ll either insist you were in the right and I was just touchy, or that nothing was wrong and it’s all in my head, or … that I served my purpose and you have no more need of me.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the kind of friend you want: the one who doesn’t call, or ask how you’re doing. A birthday wish forgotten. The one you could ignore until you deigned to grace me with your magnificence.

I’m not sorry now for being the one who tells you you’re a dick. A louse. A douchebag. I’m not sorry for being the one who jerks you short before you hurt yourself and those around you. As your friend, I had hoped that you’d appreciate my candour and not how well I could spit-shine your ego.

I apologize for taking too keen an interest in your well-being—in your successes and failures. I’m sorry that I pushed you just a little extra so you could shine. I’m sorry for paying so much attention to your improvement because I thought that’s what a friend should do. I’m sorry I went the extra mile to help you with your new job, you moving house, your new business venture, that new artwork you commissioned but deemed never good enough for your wall—despite it being done for free!

However, I won’t apologize for not caring about your excuses and lies. Or your vacillating nature. I’m not sorry for the snide look I gave, or the sneer on my lips, when you get uppity that I dared harp on what is your one constant—those promises and commitments you never delivered. Words that freely tumble from your mouth that I suppose you can’t help but trip on them when they lie knee-deep surrounding you.

I don’t regret my stand when I say one is only as good as one’s word and that you’ve been found wanting.

Therefore, do excuse my censorious looks whenever we meet. We’ve both played out our hand, and I’m cashing out before I bankrupt myself—emotionally, physically and what have you.

I don’t regret the experience of knowing you. You’re an interesting piece of work, I must say.

Then again, we all are.  

Yours distastefully,

Tired and drained.

Of songs and such

I found that after the heartbreak that my mood vacillates between almost-suicidal depression and almost-homicidal irritable. I wished Society wouldn’t frown too much should I decide to knife someone I the face but alas, the masses still subscribe to a certain standard that my sometimes-anarchist loved to buck against.

Then again, Society perhaps would feel rather strongly towards my obsessive attempts at reclaiming what was lost.

It should be noted that I display disturbingly polarized behaviours it becomes taxing at times to find a middle ground.

However much I’d like to wallow in misery, what’s done is done and there is no turning back. I may perhaps look fondly on the past but I won’t stare. Or at least, look too long. I entertained nostalgia once 10 years ago and it almost landed me a basket case …

So, in moving forward I did an inventory of the stages I went through: Denial. Rage. Apathetic numbness. Bitterness. Apathetic numbness. Despair. Apathetic numbness. Rage. Apathetic numbness. Rage. Bitterness. Rage. Clarity. Rage. Apathetic numbness. Acceptance.

I supposed my state of mind could be divined by some of the songs I listened to in my playlist below: 
(in no particular order)

Remember November – Juliana Hatfield

These Arms of Mine – Otis Redding

1000 Oceans – Tori Amos
Over and Uder – Egypt Central

Call Me When You’re Sober – Evanescence

You Oughta Know – Alanis Morissette

Not As We – Alanis Morissette

Foolish Games – Jewel

Try – Asher Book
Out Here on My Own – Naturi Naughton
Still Reminds Me – Anggun

Limp – Fiona Apple

Just Lust – Juliana Hatfield

Fuck and Run – Liz Phair

Gives You Hell – The All-American Rejects

Move Along – The All-American Rejects

A Few Words Too Many – Billie Myers

Army of Me – Bjork

Fighter – Christina Aguilera

Linger – The Cranberries

Get Over me – Marion Raven

Heads Will Roll – Marion Raven

Unforgivable Sinner – Lene Marlin

You Will Cry No More – Lene Marlin

Who Let In the Rain – Cyndi Lauper

You Could Have – Lene Marlin

Scar – Missy Higgins

Fast As You Can – Fiona Apple

Stalker – Turin Breaks

Overrated – Siobhan Donaghy

Overpower Thee – Melissa Auf der Maur

Divided – Tara MacLean

Better That We Break – Maroon 5

Going Under – Evanescence

I Want Out – Helloween

How Do I? – Lee Ryan

Here With Me – Dido

Hunter- Dido

Not Ready to Make Nice – Dixie Chicks

Lost Without You – Dream Theater

Here We Are – Lene Marlin

Table for One – Liz Phair

Where I Stood – Missy Higgins

Wedding Dress – Matt Nathanson

Why Do You Love Me? – Garbage

Farewell Party – Juliet Orange

My Happy Ending – Avril Lavigne

10 000 Promises – Backstreet Boys

Don’t Say You Love Me – The Corrs

Go Your Own Way – Fleetwood Mac

Taffy – Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories

Your House – Alanis Morissette

You Won’t See Me Cry – Wilson Phillips

In My Veins – Andrew Belle

No More I Love Yous – Annie Lennox

Big Mistake – Natalie Imbruglia

This Mess We’re In – PJ Harvey

Now I’m Gone – Juliana Hatfield

"Untitled"

You may be the Storm, but I am Winter
I will bury your rage with snow and entomb you in ice
                   You are just one pattern of a fickle weather
while I am an entire season--
                   an unchangable, implacable and unending part of Nature.

Of righteous cleanliness and such

La, such a hullabaloo surrounds the Bersih 2.0 rally that This Author decides to bestir his normally-indifferent self towards the nearest news updates to brush up on current local hot-button topics.

It does make one forget one’s own troubles after all … Should This Author’s understanding is somewhat awry, one begs you gentle readers to allow those fanciful inanities and remember that This Author is hardly a political pundit. Tolerance, is after all one of the foundations for harmony, yes?

Now, where were we? Ah, here we go…

Bersih 2.0’s mission is for a clean, free and fair electoral system, with the aim to effectively monitor both sides of the political divide. At its inception a little over three years ago, it was comprised by civil society organisations and political parties with the objective of campaigning for said mission.

This Author applauds noble intentions such as these, should the outcome is favourable and beneficial to all parties concerned. And frankly, to someone as indifferent as This Author, it is immaterial. Or at least, the relevance is somewhat elusive.

Before This Author continues, the following are just his humble opinions, which stemmed from his observations, conversations, experiences and some quick reading—which may or may not be right. This Author is not infallible, after all. Findings from those aforementioned exercises was to This Authors vexation—his, and [presumptuously perhaps] on others’ behalf.

What resulted from a supposedly peaceful rally was a climate of anxiety throughout for non-participants living in the city or its immediate environs. Bersih 2.0 are all about exercising their rights in holding their rally, among which the following three have been bandied about:

1. The right to free speech and expression

2. The right to peaceful assembly

3. The right to freedom of association

We could see the results of having exercised those rights, sadly.


The right to free speech and expression
Blogs, social networking and media sites, news feeds and more are inundated with constant updates where everyone—both local and foreign—is weighing in on the rally from rants, taunts, Wall scribbles, it goes on and on and on … ad infinitum.

This Author heartily holds to the statement that anyone and everyone may opine or have their say but not to the point of denigrating each other. Agreeing to disagree or at the very least, respecting each others’ rights in voicing their own opinions is the very cornerstone of a civilized Society.

This Author should note that the one-and-half-hour spent trawling the Net for Bersih-related items he was tickled and impressed by some of the wittily incisive remarks made regarding the rally—both for and against, mind. As for the trolls inhabiting cyberspace, This Author will just say they warrant no comments.

Sadly, This Author should also add that the Election Commission (SPR) should have a more coherent and knowledgeable response to allegations made against them. Right now, the lay populace is intransigent, ambivalent, or indifferent about the state of things.  The media also should display responsibility in presenting things in a non-partisan manner as well. Stop with the platitudes and ask the hard questions. That is one of the reasons for their being, isn’t it?

With sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose what should be done if one side demands the right of free speech, have at them. The other should spend less time demonizing what gives them purpose and work at collecting easily-verified public data or materials to present their case and demand the same from the naysayers. After all, talk is cheap. It seems right now it’s a case of he said/she said, so to speak.

The right to peaceful assembly
Authorities are arbitrarily conducting arrests on suspected participants with no definite proof or verification, therefore deep-sixing the entire purpose of a peaceful rally. The world—and people—being what it is, this fed a vicious three-way cycle where participants/non-participants/authorities are all victims of their own and others’ abuse.

It also goes without saying that firing tear gas into a hospital whilst chasing down the participants is hardly a move to endear the authorities to the masses. What were you thinking?!? That was directed to both participants and authorities, by the way.

Honest, hardworking employees are afraid to venture out for work due to fear of being mistaken for “dissidents.”

Roads were closed and major public transports were affected—depriving the populace of a chance to actually go out and enjoy their weekend after slogging thru a 5-day week at work. And of course, affecting those who are also working on weekends.

Shops and businesses were closed, depriving consumers of services previously availed to them and business their custom. This brings along the next two items:
1. There are those that may retort, “no shops, people don’t spend; therefore they save money, it’s good for economy.” Just because no money goes out, doesn’t necessarily make it a good thing. This Author is no economist, but from what one understands the basis of economics is one of supply and demand. With no supply for goods or services provided, demands will burgeon and seek alternatives—should they be lucky to obtain one. Otherwise, the cycle will just stagnate.
2. With no shops or businesses open—or those who were unfortunate enough to have employees missing out on work due to fear, productivity had to have experienced a decline, This Author expects.

For a movement that started out with noble intentions, Bersih 2.0 inadvertently became that which they implicitly wanted to avoid, a tyrant—both in its modern and classical meaning of the word.

The right to freedom of association

This Author expected DiGi employees braved their Saturday working days not without some trepidation. 

Interesting. This Author is entertaining a more cynical thought, The right to freedom from association. But one digress. 

Personally, yellow has never looked good on This Author’s dark olive skin. And thank the stars for that! 

Those who were quite vocal about this particular right would state that Bersih 2.0 has a right to be associated with anyone, regardless of political bent.

Now, it was also documented that Bersih 2.0 had issued invitations to all political parties to join them in their walk for democracy but stated that while BN component parties have rejected the invitation however, members of the opposition have decided to join in the walk. This Author is perplexed. If one’s mission is to effectively monitor both sides of the political fence, why include one but not the other? If one is to play Big Brother of sorts, then shouldn’t the presence of both is of equal importance? One shouldn’t preclude the other, after all.

This Author feels that if the mission is to promote reforms to result in clean, free and fair electoral system then associating with only the one party more or less rendered the no-partisan angle null and void.

Sometimes, appearances are of just as equal  importance.

After the spring-cleaning
From what This Author has observed, Bersih 2.0 started out with what appears a noble and workable—and even actionable—agenda.

However, This Author is of the opinion that the impetus of the agenda is somewhat specious and curiously happenstance: alleged vote-rigging and electoral abuse in light of the coming elections in 2013.

This Author suggests instead the following:
For the Government
Invest in good public relations—one that is both knowledgeable and visible.
Develop or employ a model for compliance to be used.
Have a third party observer gauge the effectiveness and share recommendations on improvements—we did utilise the aid of several Englishmen known collectively as Suruhanjaya Cobbold, did we not?
Perform stringent audits or compliance checks on everyone involved with the Electoral Commission.
Present the results publicly.

For the Opposition
Instead of spending time on alleged tampering, compare the definable processes and investigate the following items:
What did they/we do right? Where did they/we fall short?
What have they/we achieved?
What are our/their strengths, weaknesses and opportunities?
How to build on strengths, develop opportunities, and improve weaknesses?

Regardless, these are just opinions and suggestions. From someone who can be called as indifferent to politics, that would certainly be items of interests or buy-ins for This Author.

It certainly bears some ponderings, yes?

* * * * *

Some nuggets and memorable quotes that would do us well to remember:
“Beneath this YELLOW there is an idea, Mr Najib, and ideas are bulletproof,” – Thomas Chai, tweeting to the PM.

Standing up for yourself doesn’t mean stepping on other people’s toes – Enid Blyton, Last Term at Malory Towers

Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." – Evelyn Beatrice Hall

"Passing the Same Signs"

The quarrel that we had
why did it seem so familiar?
The lines sounded as I remember it
so what is the matter?
I believe we've been here before
but cannot place my finger when
Deja-vu a disease or are echoes
a regular part of our conversation?
I should have heeded myself
to stay away from you
You accusing me belittling you--
what is this? this deja-vu
Why must we always fight?
Why should you be right?
(when you're not)
I guess I'm just not good at this
at choosing my fights
And so I keep passing the same signs
over and over again.

Of undefineable dissolution

“If you think I’m going to discuss the dissolution of our marriage at a place where the toilets are labelled Dudes and Chicks, you’re out of your mind!” – Bree van der Kamp

* * * * *

I’ve always admired the fictional Mrs van der Kamp for those little gems.

If only that particular statement wasn’t so apropos.

We were having an extremely late dinner at one of these holes-in-the-wall places at the heart of the city. We talked about things that have happened to our friends. We talked about things that we did. We talked about work. His. Mine.

We’ve had this little row a month or so back where little nitpickings, petty jealousies and cutting, hurtful words were thrown around like hand-grenades. It even got a little physical—no, not like that! We settled it by each apologising—him for his jealous outburst and me for hammering in on his insecurities. For some reason, I have this disturbing gift of finding someone’s weak points and exploiting them in a fight—so in case it gets into a tussle, I know to aim a kick at his left knee… but I digress. We agreed to table the conversation to a more opportune timing.

Those who’ve known me enough knew by now that good timing and I were never easy acquaintances. The love of my life died on Valentine’s Day, and I got dumped on my birthday for crying out loud!

Well, the talk started out guardedly with each of us doing this bizarre waltz around verbal eggshells. So, me being me just bluntly asked him what is his problem? I could almost swear that you could knock me down with a feather when he started out listing the reasons. For reasons I'm unable to fathom the qualities he found as my strengths and main attractions now became glaring points of contention:

1. My tenacity is now pig-headed stubbornness
2. A snappy, subversive humour is now an unruly tongue
3. My compartmentalizing my own emotions now makes me a heartless sociopath

And it goes on and on and on. I admit I was’t exactly defusing the tableau by winding him up to see just how far he could go with it. Apparently our Mr Kwan has accumulated quite an impressive frequent-flyer mile since he went there, built a house and started knitting—metaphorically speaking, that is—and it devolved into youdon’tthinkI’mgoodenoughbecauseyouhavethehotsforsomeoneelse and you’reimmatureandactlikeacompletetool and its several variations.

I couldn’t take it anymore so I left and let him stew in his own juice.

Yes, I know it sounds wrong …

The upshot is now we’re on a time-out. I could never understand that particular concept when it comes to relationships; what does that mean? What does it entail? Are you back to single-but-dating status?

With things the way they are now, I’m hard-pressed to say I’m optimistic of the outcome. We’re two independent people who are both stubborn and not exactly gracious about admitting our mistakes. It’s like the Titanic meets iceberg. Only time will tell who sinks—and pulls everyone down with him.

Of temptations and seductions

Temptation.

It is defined as something that entices or something alluring.

They come in many forms. It could be that second slice of cheesecake. Or that “up to 70% off!” sale at Massimo Dutti. Or that intelligent, witty young gentleman in your office. 

Who happens to be your subordinate. And you’re already in a relationship.

Fine. I could never let the dessert cart pass me without divesting it of its offerings. And three of the sales associates at 1U’s Massimo Dutti already know me by name.

But the one thing I’ve always pride myself in is my control over my own emotions—how I could nip any apparent chink in my façade of indifference and stow them away in the darkest recesses of my mind. God knows, it’s pretty dark in there …

Let me just state for the record that nothing untoward had—or will—happen between that young man and I. I’ve heard on the grapevine that some in the office were all a-clack about the going-ons between the two of us. Of course, filth such as those shouldn’t be pandered to but one can’t help but wonder if there was anything in my—or our—interaction that may have added fuel to the fire.

Perhaps I was overly solicitous in my dealings with him, and I sometimes blur the lines when it came to communication; I treated him as I would a friend when I barely knew him and before I knew it I was incessantly peeling the metaphorical onion. Every single layer of this beautiful young man makes me want to keep him for myself.

Therein lays the crux of it. I was looking up the synonyms for temptation and I found the following: lure, attraction, pull, seduction.

Yes, I was lured by his easy smile and crackerjack wit. I don’t deny that he is physically attractive, with one of the most symmetrical features I have ever seen ( and though I am of the opinion his wardrobe could use some tweaking or minor revamp, I'm certainly not holding that against him!). His openness, willingness to learn, agile mind and general bonhomie instantly pulls one in. 

And yes, I was seduced. Gads, was I seduced.

Seduced by those qualities and what-might-have-beens, I flirted nervously with the idea that maybe the forbidden should be ignored and acted upon. I would like to dramatize it for all it was worth and said I agonized over it for nights on end, but no. I quelled it after 3 minutes of those thoughts popping in my head and started to distance myself from him.

At times like these, I felt relieved that I’m able to compartmentalize emotions as easy as some people wiggle their ears. For the longest time I suspected that such ability may be indicative of a dissociative personality—that gives credence to the remarks that I am heartless and unfeeling. Perhaps it is just a simple matter of it being my own defence mechanism.

The more fanciful part of me likes to call it strategic withdrawal.

For now, I am content to let him be and remain distant from him, safe in the fact that he will always have my highest esteem and regard—and myself safe from losing his. 

* * * * * * *

I was reminded of this song by Melissa Etheridge, Angels Would Fall (video below)

9th June, 10:47pm

The mattress was lumpy and as I lay awake at night I ruminate on the paths that led me here. If I had stayed on one course--the one I left after a disastrous affair with a razor blade and a bottle of brandy--would it still have lead me here?

(Would it still have led me to you?)

I wonder at times at the things people do when situations demand them to rise to the occasion. What prompted such Herculean efforts to surmount those overwhelming odds? And why sometimes some would rather curl up and die than stir themselves for their own survival?

We sometimes limit ourselves without knowing it. The joy and pleasure we had in things when we were small seemed to have lost their luster, and this existence lost their magic. We no longer go through life with rose-coloured glasses but we see it stark and naked--much like our faults and foibles. Irony is, those faults and foibles became our suit of armour as we go about our lives.

These are one of the many thoughts percolating at the back of my head when I observe people around me: What made you change? What keeps you going?

(What was it that you couldn't define yet still compels you to stand by me?)

In this life where choices define us, I have made my peace with mine. There are things I'd like to do over, but for what it worth those choices were made on my own cognizance and I stand by them. No regrets. I will admit though, that my choices concerning you still have me at a loss. If life is made up of paths and roads, then we're breaking our own trail and I sometimes wonder where we'll end up, or where I might lead you.

Once, when I voiced my doubt out loud, you said, "You'll lead me home."

Imagine Me & You (revised)

I once imagined that I would meet you on a moonlit shore. The soft night breeze will whistle among the palms and rhu leaves with whispers of promises yet to be fulfilled. A pregnant moon will be our witness; Selene casting her silvery gaze upon the doings of mortals aeons untold. You would offer your hand—I will accept—and together we will run to the water's edge. The little wavelets will lap our feet with salty splashes to join the night's cool breath. Your quicksilver smile tugs the strings you've once bound me in. Like Samson shorn, I followed in your wake. By your breath and your words, would I have spoken. Your wounds became my scars. Your mystique became my own. A reflection I became, mirroring your movements—my dark to your light.

I imagined that our nights will never end. That the little cove we made ours would remain untouched by the coming dawn—as we willed it to be.

We forgot that even the strongest of wills are still victims to the frailties of flesh.

I've imagined that despite the sifting sands that marks our passing we would endure. I imagined that an Eden could still exist even if only for a while. I've imagined that my searching hands would messy themselves in your hair. Little nibbles of thoughts that later became words to forge the promises we made—now never to be realized. I imagined that you're probably shaking your head at my refusal to let go. It should be easy for you; you were the one who left me behind. I imagined our little cove is now silent. No more laughter. No more paired footprints to mark the sand. No quicksilver smiles or words to echo.

I imagined in your passing your mystique became my own brand. I became a lone soldier carrying your badge. I imagined that those memories are armour to grant me fortitude and protection. I wear it proud as grief and joy mingled as one. 

And I know that I could survive anything.

"Untitled"

It shouldn't be this sinking feeling
It shouldn't be a catch in my voice

It should've never been iron bands
Never that smothering cloak 

Robbing me of light

It shouldn't be that icy grip 'round a withered heart
It shouldn't be the cold side of the bed

It should've never been my surrender
It should've never been a furious tempest

Tailwind spinning tossing this kite

It was meant to be a balm
A safehold from all harm
It was meant to be a gentle thaw

Now lost, forevermore

"This Night for Wandering"

There is this crazy feeling that I might have

known you from beyond the mists of years

There is a deep certainty that I may have

known your laughter, your smiles and tears

I discarded it as flights of fancy

How could it remotely possibly be

There came that niggling feeling I could have

known your touch, held you hands in mine

That little tingle that tells I certainly have

been the lucky one to share your mind

I discounted it as pure romance

Just coincidence -- a happenstance

There was a sense of knowing within

my fingers once walked across your skin

That semblance of remembering, I had

eked lusty sighs, made your head spin

I rejected it as fantasy, unsent

Keeping taunting haunting, no end

Of artistic roughs

Some pencil-work I've been working on

I was going for a waifish air, and used soft smudgings for tonal effect.

I wanted to give her a big Farrah Fawcett 'do but just kept it simple with sleek straight instead

This was done while on the LRT - received compliments from these 2 American guys. I creamed myself, obviously.

Eloa - First pass, hatching shades and lines

Eloa - 3rd pass, with hair and features locked

Falconer - elf druid

Fey sorceress

I was tired of the delicate/sissy elves depicted in films. This one will kick your ass and run off with your woman (or man, if he so inclines!)

Battle sorceress - first draft

Battle sorceress - 3rd pass

Of relations and temptations, Pt. 1

Love.

And close behind it: Relationship. Kissing cousins, those.

One doesn’t know if such things should even exist. Save perhaps as literary devices, and nothing more.

Well, perhaps also as instruments of torture.

I guess this is what happens when you’re not attracted to any particular gender but instead worship qualities possessed by that person—regardless of gender.

It is disturbing that when someone finds out you’re in a quasi-long-distance relationship that they assume each partner has their run of the yard. I suppose I could see where they would arrive to that conclusion, and therein lays the issue. Lackaday. It would seem that I am discombobulated by my newfound status as off-market meat. Not that newfound mind you, but certainly off market. And as my previous entry had indicated, am sorely tempted by certain … individuals.

In a long-term relationship, is it acceptable for a solidly monogamous relationship to devolve into a revolving door the moment those selfsame partners separate? By what yardstick do we measure this? Where did it say that you can’t have a monogamous long-distance relationship, and why such practitioners seem to be aberrations of nature?!?

Yes, I admit to feeling a mite vitriolic as I’m typing this but seriously--? What, you have to have your cake and your pie, too? Haven’t you considered that maybe, just maybe I like skipping desserts?

After all, after a huge feast … dessert seems a tad anticlimactic.

Yes, I know putting things in food analogy can be somewhat jarring for some readers but hey, you write what you know.

***

Anyhow, back to these temptations.

It’s a well-known fact among my circle of friends that despite a very open and broad mindset I am quite conservative when it comes to relationships.

Which is challenging when one’s young stud of a boyfriend has always practised an open relationship.

I almost bolted out of the gate like a Triple Crown winner but upon reflection—while judiciously avoiding his calls, ignoring his texts for 3 weeks, and deleting his e-mails without reading—I decided that we needed to have The Talk.

I was surprised that he agreed to a monogamous status. However, I wasn’t prepared for the bomb he dropped when he suggested that should I be tempted; he’s fine with me indulging myself! In classic drama/high-dudgeon style I told him I no uncertain terms what I think of that brilliant suggestion—involving words such as STDs, commitment, philandering, Henry VIII and other interesting similes—and the sadist in me relished watching him wince as I verbally whittled his arguments down to size. I know even the harshest critic wouldn’t say I’m ugly but between the two of us there’s no prize for guessing who’d end up being snapped up by trawlers. He’s no pushover, our Mr. Kwan.

Long story short—it was a talk that lasted almost 3 days, with neither party willing to give ground. Note to self: This is what happens when wilful meets stubborn. Stars help me, I’ve always admired and worshipped strength—of character, mind and personality; and this boy has it in spades! I have yet to meet someone his age that enjoys reading—classics, no less (favourite authors: Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, William Makepeace Thackeray and the Brontё sisters).

What to do? What to do?? 

Ghost Town, 4th February

Friday morning, in stare of silence

Loud quietness deafening magnitude

Embers burning, loss rememberance

Solitary touches begging solitude

Train ride, all alone within my cares

Swatches, splashes and blobs of red

are all I could see in blurred stares

Lanterns illuminating where I'll head

Rushes of old swept for the new

Empty asphalt cracked barren tar

Fireworks clapping as they often do

Sparks land on a forgotten old scar

Friday at midnight missives unfound

Solitude embracing in comfort unwanted

Friday midnight hushed silence around

Into the darkness is where I'm headed