Suspended Animation.

a strange thing, it is-
wring your heart out to dry,
reckon you won't be a fool again.
but once more, you fall
again, head over heels.

why do i even try.

it hardly matters to you anyway.

A blindfold. Shoutings. Hard shove. You wobbled, caught off guard, and for a moment, one foot dangled perilously off the side-edge. Your tired feet stumbled clumsily up the plank, against your own will. The rowdy crowd bellowed their approval, and you sensed their glee and delight at your immediate demise. You struggled against the rough hands tugging at your tattered rags that served meekly as clothes, only to feel their yellow, dirt-stained fingernails dig deep into your skin, drawing a loud howl of agony from your hoarse throat. You now feel the vibe in the air, excitement growing, the shuffling of feet; an indication of the mob cramming in for a better view. They could smell blood now. You're battered and torn, useless against the unforgiving clutches that prison your movements. Hopelessly handicapped, the stench of death lingered ever so gently in the air, as you drew closer to the plank's end; your end.

The vultures loomed overhead-
And the ground gave way.

Aching all over from training + constant late nights trying to be a creative boy = zombie me. ):
Not sure how things are gonna turn out in the end, but then again..

One smile's worth everything!
Gotta keep on keeping on.

nights like this, i miss you bad.

You're like a butterfly, with pretty wings etched on, fluttering amongst the rainbow of flowers. A work of art, they sometimes call you, and more often than not, you mesmerize. Yet you continue to elude my understanding. You make me feel like you're so lost, as if you've made mazes your home, and your comfort lies strictly in a lack of directions. These gardens of flowers go on forever. Don't get so distracted? I don't know if you know I still care. Well, if you're reading, I'm telling you. I do. Rest more and stop overworking.

---

He felt his eyelids fall on their own, assured in the knowledge that up on that stage which she lit up so brightly, she's happy. As simple as it seemed, it's her joy that related to the peace in his heart. He knew, try as he might, that he'd never get any nearer to the grandeur of her dance that so separated her from the rest; a class of her own. This is her stage, and he's lucky to even be in this picture, playing the bit-part role of a fan. Just like so many others in the audience. And sometimes, he'd look with envy in the direction of the front row, wishing he could be there, maybe she'd notice him then, or perhaps even allow a few seconds of her stunning smile to capture him for eternity. But each time, he'd shake his head off of these thoughts, content to just be.. there.

The world was her stage.
And when the curtains threaten to fall, he'd be the last to leave.

Actually, let me take that back.
He's never gonna leave. Her side. <3

Words; pictures; sounds.

I think these are such beautiful mediums of expression. I like how words feel like water seeping through the gaps in my hand- feels almost like the world's being taken off of your shoulders; light, weightless. I like how pictures capture a single moment into a single frame. I can hold a perfect moment in my hands and gaze at it forever. Like a favorite mixtape on permanent replay. I like how sounds soothe the senses.. music that speaks right through your soul. Sometimes it brings mirth and joy, other times it makes you go all teary-eyed. It fills up the gaps words and pictures cannot- silence. And loneliness always follows silence.

Sometimes I really think I've this gift from above that lets me know how somebody else is feeling at a moment. It doesn't matter whether he/she's far away or simply sitting next to me.. I experience the same things- scenes, pictures, situations running through my head. But what's more real than anything is that strange sense of feeling or emotions rushing over me, and I'm almost convinced each time, that whatever just hit me are the exact feelings of whoever I'm talking to/thinking of right now. I say almost because 99% of the time, I trust it's from God- the last 1% are my own doubts and fears, which take over once too often.

I only wish that I speak the right words, take the right actions each time. I hate it when my words come out in a mess, and what was meant to be 'I'll be there for you every step of the way' echoes out as if I'm tripping everywhere I go- and assurance turns into disaster. Tragic. ): I really don't mean to sometimes!! I just want to be.. there.