The Ocean

He walks out onto the beach, it's late at night and nobody knows where he is. He comes here when he is sad, he comes here when he is lost. This is the only place he knows.

A fragmented heart can never be healed by the person who owns it. Only the person that has overdrawn it or someone who has the ability to do so. This night at the ocean he is not in search of a remedy, only the cure.

As his bloodshot eyes watch the waves come in. Wave, approach, crash, retreat. He sees the ocean as a allegoric nirvana. It's a dark indefinite entity with countless shining opportunities but only if there is light to shine on them. Sometimes he feels like he can reach out and grab one of theses diamonds off the surface, Sometimes.

He sits down and feels the wind blow through his hair. A deep breath and a dell of thoughts. For a moment he is at peace. But just like the uniformity of the waves. the memories are endless.

There a man sits on the sand, broken hearted and full of contemplation. He thinks he can grab diamonds from the ocean. Sometimes....

Tonight is one of those nights.

He walks into the water only up to his neck, because he knows he is already in over his head. He looks aimlessly into the abyss and for awhile he sees nothing sparkling. The moon is as bright as ever, but there is nothing to be seen. Finally he turns to vainly walk out, but there behind him was one glimmering hope. It has found him.

This night at the ocean, he is not in search of a remedy, only the cure. He did not find anything, something found him. The essence of the moment brings back the person he once was.

"I can't wait till I see you again..."

Ruler of Life

Every morning you awake
I'm the first thing on your mind
Before you fall asleep
You give me one last thought

You go to work
I am in your papers
On your lunch break
Your time is spent on your meal
and what next you will do with me

Family get togethers
are now interrupted
with arguments between loved ones
all because of me

Friday nights with friends
Have become half-hearted attempts
to focus your mind elsewhere
So now you sit at home by your self
Unable to enjoy whats outside
Hating everything within

I am the money in your wallet, the suit you wear to work, the broken down engine in your car, the parent that always yells, the child that never listens, the loved one who is no longer around, the hated one that won't go away, the sickness in your body, the man or woman in your heart.

Don't let me control you anymore.

The Painting

He stands up the easel and lifts up a fresh canvas. He sees the picture, the woman he always sees when he closes his eyes. If it weren't for the possible color discrepancies he could paint the image blindfolded.

First he paints the outline of her face, with every stroke is another quality that he has never seen nor anyone else has. With every passing moment his eyes sink deeper into his work. He is no longer holding the brush, it is holding him.

Next in the painting is her figure, he sees it so vividly in his mind. Her body is flawless in his eyes. When she is around, his eyes never stray. With every swipe is another mark of perfection.... This is his painting, he sees it as just that.

Now that the outlines and not so basic features of her has been laid out, he begins to add her color. He may be painting between the lines but in his mind this is no longer a painting.

He is slowing shaping her personality, as he paints her smile.

He adds her intellect as he sculpts the expression on her face.

Finally the love she has for him, with the way he has her eyes staring right back at him.

After hours of painting that seemed graceful and intricate at the same time, he is finished. She's beautiful. This is a piece of art that will hang on his wall for a very long time...

A year goes by and there the painting stands. He keeps it in his room but since he keeps his windows open at night. It has become jaded from the weather outside of their existence.

Afraid to lose the ambiance of the painting he always touches it up when it seems to be compromised. Without knowing it however, he subtly changes each feature trying to keep it the same.

Some time passes and after all minor rectifications the painting is no longer what it used to be. The smile with the temperament may not be the same. The figure that seemed so perfect before is no more than ordinary.

None of this bothers him because the eyes of the painting still look at him the same way. Through all this time and aging, that's all that matters.

One morning he awakes.

Walking by that painting he has held so dear for so long. He notices the eyes have finally faded. With tears in his eyes and a brush in hand, he takes a few strokes and covers the eyes.

With the best intentions, he has covered or replaced every blemish that seemed to be perfect before. Her personality has faded over time, so he would fruitlessly try to replicate the colors. The painting is no longer what it was.

Now broken hearted he stares at what his painting has become.

He doesn't want to believe it, but his work of art has now once again become an empty canvas...

Start Living and Forget

Found this poem I wrote long time ago in my folder of endless writings... figured it could be shared.

You thought you had let go
were you just ignoring the hole
in your heart that I had created
you have been replaced
and I never cared
that you have been erased
from the mind that you had once overrun
its hard to face the darker days
when someone I have stolen your sun
I'll just let you sleep
let you sleep in this endless pain
let the agony coarse through your veins
should you try to cut it out
or maybe just wait it out
close the shades on your despair
till you can wander through your mind
and never find me there
never find me there
the anxiety is starting to rule your life
slipknot around the chest
stealing the life stealing the breathe
I'm pulling on the other end
you can no longer enjoy family
and lost all of your friends
close the cover on your life
the last page has been read
I'll just let you sleep
let you sleep in this endless pain
let the agony coarse through your veins
should you try to cut it out
or maybe just wait it out
close the shades on your despair
till you can wander through your mind
and never find me there
never find me there

I am the one you'll never forget...

Moment of the Weak

Why as a society are we inclined to sugarcoat everything that isn't sweet. No one wants to hear bad news, so many people either fabricate the truth or never say it in fear of hurting someone's feelings.

It could either be that you don't want to hurt someone's feelings, or you just don't want someone to dislike you for being the bearer of facts. It's a lose-lose anyway you look at it... Or is it?

If people stopped withholding or manipulating the truth the world would be a much better place. Think about it, Let's say something is going on between you and another person and you don't know quite how to say it. Rather than being silent, just voice your mind. They may be more understanding than you think. Honesty very far, you may lose a little in the friendship but it is far outweighed by the respect you may gain.

There is no need to protect anyone from anything anymore. The world is changing, bad things happen everyday and the days of fairytales are far over. Whether you and someone else are in different pages of a novel, or your paperback is coming to an end. You have to close the book on the situation eventually. Why not do it the right way?

You have far more to gain with the truth, than you do without it.