piscespixies

source; tumblr.

I feel... I feel like a vacant vessel dispersing into the polluted air. My hands don't intertwine right, clothes are either too loose or tight -- I can't stop this addiction on finding a glove that fits. There are shadows that mirror my silhouette beside him (can I ever be certain that they're mine?). I'm lost in the depths of my insecurities... I don't want to go into deep... Which is ironic.
My chest beats like a drum -- within each beat, I succumb into the sorrows, whatever they might be. The pain is expanding like a black balloon around prickly walls.

take me over by ari roar

server by dead sullivan

my surroundings are in monochromatic moods that contain cinematic values. as i put on my headphones simultaneously, colours begin to spread out in heavenly hues and things make total sense.

i am in the 'study room' right now, and there are collections of folders across the table in dusty shelves -- how long have they been there? i remember when we used to have a keyboard in this very room, my cousins and i would blast Red River Valley and sing along while reading out the lyrics from a song book. in addition, the very space behind me used to be where i built forts and conquered a land or was isolated in an island, my imaginations ran wild and free -- everything used to be colourful.

now, i live in black and white. an overused quote from belle and sebastian's the boy with the arab strap "colour my life with the chaos of trouble" is somewhat equitable, but it sounds rather masochistic. i still see colours according to the measures, rhythms, melodies and words of a song and in the eyes of someone i love. consequently, it has made me appreciative because of its once in a blue moon rarity.

if you ask me what colours i see right now; i see a gradient of ocean blue and a hint of the tangerine sun. perhaps it is similar to charlie's (perks of being a wallflower) contrasting emotions; "i am both happy and sad at the same time and i'm still trying to figure out how that could be." 

p.s: there's a video on youtube by boy scouts called 'did you see me cry.' in the comment section, there's a thread discussing about why one finds peace in sad things, and what caught my eye is a response from maicol vaughn; "maybe we find peace in sad things because at least we know its an honest feeling, not like that fake happiness thats wears off." it kind of hits close to home.

love by lana del rey, 22nd February 2017

it takes time to surrender and give in to the mystical yet fucked up social construct of love. sure, love can be beautiful when you are high of it -- like a direct euphoria from your first dose of nicotine on a tedious day; you've been waiting for it the whole time, your mind was occupied with the thought of igniting the sparks. The ecstasy is addictive but as the ambers touch your skin and burn you, everything turns into ashes. why do we do this to ourselves? are we that broken to accept a habit that'd lead us to an early grave (metaphorically or literally) ? or am I just being cynical again?

heck, what do i know...

finding faces that could replace
the sheer image
of someone you once cherished
empathising plights
that shakes you to your core
...

when by dodie

romanticising the past is an eternal bloom of unkempt gardens that wallow in asphalts wailing for a beacon of sunlight. it's fucked up but there's beauty in it and it stands out in a masochist's enigmatic mind because there's beauty in pain or pain is beauty --  however the saying goes.
i'm guilty for this, extremely guilty. "never caught up in the moment, busy begging the past to stay..." the entire song embodies a greener looking time. as humans, i think we make a habit out of being infatuated with an idea of someone or something, which is a one-way ticket to heartbreak hotel and we are fully aware of it!
as far as relationship goes, i am insanely cynical yet, i am still in one. how? i don't know... i don't know.

sleepless by christine wu

in an aeroplane over the sea by neutral milk hotel

04 21 on a rainy monday. my body seems to have a mind of its own without the brain knowing, how can that be? there's a lingering itch of thought that i need to scratch so it can disappear for eternity; i am indifferent. that's not technically news because i am like anyone else. it's possible to be different in certain aspects, however, it is close to impossible to be completely out of the ordinary... unless you're bowie or smokey.

i haven't been sleeping well. often times, i do, but without dreams. sometimes i do have dreams, but my body is filled with this vast adrenaline for no plausible reason and wakes up at 3 32am on the dot. i don't want to put much thought into though.

04 30 poetry

resentment recedes
like a waltz
in threes

one's ego
is a figment
of mind games

rat-a-tat-tat
a knock on the head

i lie awake
eyes wide open
glaring
over the solemn street light
shaped like an orange
from my foggy window

white noise
clear vision
unfiltered thoughts

old enough to be wise
wise enough to grow
grown enough to apperceive

i shall not crave
for another's nails
to scratch my head
just because mine
are absent.