When the lights turn off

I had an experience, for some reason I am having a difficult time putting it in the right words. That’s weird, me, a writer unable to put something into words.

I have attempted however it’s all foggy. I woke up in the middle of the night and I released all I felt. It was better, I felt better. The context is love affairs and casual affairs. The confusion of what it all means. How is one suppose to act in love affairs and casual affairs. Is there a rule book? Are there do’s and don’t? WTF! So this writing, these writings are split into two

Friendships and love (affairs) Pt. 1

Are like campfires? There only burn if someone keeps putting in the wood.
Wood is like the effort that keeps the fire burning, lets the fire produce all the warmth. It’s not a one person job, whoever is involved in the friendship/love affair is responsible for putting the wood in and blowing the air (is that a pun)

Both these things take effort… from everyone, once one person
is responsible for everything, the putting in the wood, the blowing, the sorting etc. it can
become rather exhausting.

That’s how friendships and relations end, when one person feels like their doing everything
to keep the fire burning but the other is lacking off.

I’ve seen fires go out and others get lit in life. Some fires I was responsible for letting them
die, some I felt like I was doing all the work. There is even the worse experience of going back to try and light the fire that died long ago, to try get back all that warmth, but then when the fire starts warming up you realize the reason you left it in the first place.

I’ve been the bad guy; watching the other person use so much effort to keep the fire burning and I stood there starting other fires on the side. When other fire didn’t work, I’d come back to this hot, warm, burning one. By the time I awoke, I was alone in that fire, the person who kept it alive had moved on.

This brings me to the second part of the writing. I urge you as a reader to find your own meaning here; I have this feeling of sharing these writings as there are, with the feelings I had when I woke up in the middle of the night to write.

When all the lights dim off pt. 2

What goes through your mind when you’re watching all the lights turn off. You watch all the
moments you were a part of disappear? Life basically telling you to move on, that chapter of your life is gone; it was bright for moment but it’s gone.

You watch these lights which are all you or rather moments in your life that you wished could stay lit forever. You start looking around to see if all the lights are really turning off, you run to see if the old lights, the ones you never took care of still work.

Yaaay! this one came on, but the moment an old light comes on, you remember why you
moved on from it in the first place; that light started to mean something else.
You stare at it again, you unplug that light, you make the decision of being the one to turn it
off.

As you make that decision, you then realize why some of the lights were turning off on
you. It’s not nice to watch all the lights turn off, it’s not all of them because there are lights that seem to always stay on in our lives no matter what happens, but there are ones that turn off, all the moments, all you have to do is nod, smile look ahead and work on other lights

Rewind II

Def: To begin again

Let’s rewind

To come back to a moment before you were naked under my skin

Your hands playing a cello on my back

Pause, rewind

To before my chest was the bridge to which your legs were walking on

Bent and crippled like a newly born giraffe

Rewind, pause

Before I left my soul between the sheets of your bed

You captured by sandman’s lullaby

Pause

Rewind

To you being a mysterious book I want to read without licking my fingers to flip the pages

Pause, rewind

Read that last line again.

I want to know you by Reading Lolita in a room were the sun hits my body so well, I get lost in its warmth, or is it just the thought of flipping through the pages of you

Pause. Pause. Pause. Rewind

To you, sitting across me, your eyes trying to undress me

Alas! I love that look in your eyes, like a coin in a mine I can get lost in those big eyes

Pause, Fast forward

To mysterious chapters; canvases so empty God is having a hard time deciding what to paint on it for us

Pause

I am here with a brush, if you want to, please bring paint

I don’t want to wait for God to decide

Pause,

Rewind

Alternate Ending

We’re sitting in your car and I tell you, I love you, but you already know. You know that because you can see the way I look at you, the way I laugh with every muscle in my body.

So this doesn’t change our fate.

I look look at you, holding your hand in mine. It feels so natural, this will not change the outcome of our future though.

I tell you I’m afraid to be with you. I’m afraid because I am in love with you too much and I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.

If I take you right now to be mine, it will only be you and me on the road ahead. Our colours clash, these man made colours of skin, yet
here is my heart beating for you.

I tell you ours is a dangerous love, a Shakespearean love, only leading to death of each of us.

You already know this though, you’ve told me a million times before in tears. My chest has been a handkerchief to many of your watering eyes.

You already know me and you being together will burn bridges, yet like the moon yearns for her love the sun, you yearn for me too, as I do for you.

Yet, that won’t change the ending. This confession won’t change the ending in stored for you and me.

The moon is bright, the sky is dark and clear. It’s a perfect engagement of dark and white, just like you and I.

I lean in, you meet half way, right at the border were our lips would meet.

I am looking into your eyes, this is something I’ve wanted to do since..

We kiss. I kiss you. We melt in each other. You kiss me. There’s nothing else except you, me, the moon, the dark sky, inside a little car at the parking lot.

The future now changes

Alien*ation

In theatre the term alienation ‘effect’ describes Brecht’s style of working. As we tend to always be reminded in readings it is taken from the German word….verfremdungseffekt.

Def. Alienation in the dictionary is described as: a withdrawing or separation of a person or a person’s affections from an object or position of former attachment. Distancing.

So I begin to write.

An addict I was, for probably my whole life, to certain things, to certain ideas and certain places.

I am an image of my former self, only those that truly know me can see through the fake skin I am wearing.

I am a reflection of something that has been left behind, or I am an image of a man exposed to the true reality of the world, my world.

I lived in a singular point, surrounded by alien colors, pink colours, colors of all emotions, now I find myself in a room with only a singular light illuminating, it’s not even bright, it fades away like yesterday’s memory.

What did I do yesterday? I was running backwards, chasing a memory of my former self. I found him, me, lying in a land of grass, with his head looking at the sky.

He was happy, I wanted to stay with him. I didn’t want to tell him that the things he loves the most will break his heart. That in time, from now, from this moment he is in, his smile will turn into many frowns.

That he will gain weight, not the good kind, not the one he wishes his skinny body could carry, no, no, no. He will gain weight in his heart, and in his chest it will feel heavy, his heart will drown in his own circulating blood.

His body will betray him. The images in his head will not be true.

I don’t want to tell him that. I want to sit next to him. Alienated from the rest of the world.

I am an alien here, in his memories, but I feel more alive then I have been in recent times.

I feel strange in the future, as if I am a guest in my own mind. In order to feel alive, I have to travel back in time. That’s really shitty!

_Purplish Flowers_

To the girl running away with my heart

Tell my lover

If you see my lover please pass on this message to her.

Tell her I miss her, that everything I miss about her could be turned into a book if I were to write one.

If you bump into my lover tell her I said everything about her fills me up with hope, and a little bit of misery; of course, what relationship doesn’t have misery chilling at the back seat waiting to disturb a honeymoon; still it’s all of that which drives me crazy about her

When you see her, my lover, stop her, give her a compliment or an Instagram like cause she god damn deserves all those likes.

This is very important, before she disappears around the corner please shout out to her and tell her that damn ass of hers is fire, I see it rising like dough in the oven, but fuck you for staring at my girl’s ass.. 

If there was ever one more important thing you can tell her for me, as I no longer have the will to do it, please tell her following.

If you’re singer please do write a song, if you’re painter, please paint so she can hang it up in her tiny kitchen, if you’re poet, squeeze a line in your stanzas, like how I squeeze her bum, if you’re a teacher introduce her in a good ppt

Whatever your profession is, make a note of this request for me.

Tell her I love her.

That she has a home in my heart

A love letter to my lover

As everyone in life I’ve had to deal with a lot of crazy, funny, and hurtful things that life has to offer. In recent years none have managed to bruise me; you tend to build up thick skin for things that can hurt you in life, as everyone else does.

In those things I have felt none have been more hurtful than being blamed for not loving you.

I could be taking it into heart too much, I can be sensitive but you saying the words “I didn’t care”… no let me use love you, has been a thorn in my chest.

I don’t blame you in any sense. You are an amazing person, with flaws and all, but flaws I love. I began to question a lot of things being in love with you. I started to wonder if I’ve ever actually liked talking to a female person more than I loved talking to you.

I started to wonder if a girl has ever made me laugh like you do, or if I’ve ever went so deep in my own memories, digging stories so I can feel so close to you.

I wondered all these things and I smiled at the thoughts, nay I laughed because it seemed so untrue yet there I was loving without feeling any type of consequences

I must be a silly boy, but silly has driven me across a lot of bridges and so far, I’ve lived an entirely exceptional life.

I am sorry I didn’t love you the way you wanted to be loved. I guess I need to re-invent myself in the field of love, although I don’t question how I love, I got plenty of that, an entire ocean, all I have to question is how to love more, to go further into this deep sea that is me, there’s hope for me yet.

I hope you find someone who loves you more, the way you yearned to be loved. If I was a believer I’d pray for it, if I were a singer I’d hold a concert for it, if I was rain I’d pour it down on you in waves, but there’s no need for that, because you will; for loving you in this moment in time has been the best feeling I’ve felt in a long while.

Loving you is or rather was the best thing I looked for each day, to love you more was becoming an acquired taste, now I am stuck with the worse part of all, trying to forget you.

Tape recorder

I bought a Mcflurry today, it still tastes of you no matter were I go; Not you but the memories of you, each spoonful or half spoon brings back a bit of you.

I’m a movie character having flashbacks, unlike the movies only I see the memories, unless you read this, so will you

The memories are so quick, sharp, like the expansion of bubble gum between the lips. There’s a build up, this small huge amount of air, and then a sudden pop

All of it going away, and then the memories build again. I got cherry or strawberry flavor, you got chocolate, yet I see your hand creeping towards my ice cream like a naughty child… you take a spoonful and I look at you… the spoon lingering in your mouth.

You dip it back into your ice cream and take a spoonful, and I see the spoon heading towards my mouth.

It’s all so innocent, so childish yet looking at it now, it’s such huge gesture, romantic even.

The bubble gum pops out again. A new memory swirvs like a clicking sound of a cassette on repeat.

What are we doing? We’re sitting in silence, just lying there next to each other like the rest of the World doesn’t exist. It’s strange how we’re able to do this for hours, but I guess our fingers tugging on each other is all the conversation we need to have.

Being in a memory of you drowns me; it suffocates me; each time I think it’s giving me a breath of air as I drown in the happenings of life, I realize, it, the memory is the ocean that pulls me back, to drown.

I wish I could swim, so I could butterfly in these memories of you, we humorously both know that I can’t swim.

I am not bothered to learn either. It’s the first I’m admitting that, guess I am fed with the statements ‘you should learn, it’s so easy’ I’m sure it is, but I don’t want to fuckin swim.

It’s strange how a simple ice cream can be so delicious yet so cruel at the same time.

I want my hoodie back

I’m washing my clothes and some of them smell of you, not really you but the memory of you lingers on them. My Olfactory transmits you right into the front of my memories.

 

Each cloth I pick up, like an old cassette rewinds my mind and plays you; You are my old school jazz, and love making RnB songs.

 

You, in my big old clothes, like a hot sexy hobbo; somehow it looks better on you than it does me, maybe because I’m seeing twice the love.

I love how the hat tucks your head in and makes your eyes a secret; how it’s just short enough to show your thighs but long enough to cover the subject.

 

I want that hoodie back

 

Truth be told, I’m not sure if I want to wash these clothes, I want to lie here, in these dirty garments and just be absorbed in the scent of you; Be stuck in limbo of right now and what used to be

 

Damn, I really want my hoodie back, it’s not here.

 

You’re the last person who was wearing it. I said it’s looks better on you, yeah, only when you’re around me.

 

I’m going to report you

I want my hoodie back

So I can burn it, let it become ash just like our relationship.

 

Yeah

I heard you tuck it under your head when you sleep, like a pillow so you can think of me.

 

That’s nice, but like a league log table this race between you and I is over; I’m not sure you’ll even get that football reference.

 

I want my hoodie

It was mine, I only borrowed it to you because I wanted to keep your heart warm.

Chemistry

How does a person explain this feeling? This phenomenal chemical reaction, and no, I’m not talking about laboratory chemistry; I’m talking about the chemistry that happens between two humans, two people, individuals who might be strangers or might not be strangers, well given that we all start as strangers

However what about instant chemistry? What that chemistry that shoots up like morphine into your system and drives you wild; Does morphine do that or it makes you numb? Good feelings all around

This is what I want to talk about in this writing. Simply writing about it won’t do though.. so read in between these words and create your own idea of what I feel when I feel chemistry.

~Chemical reaction

I have been involved in a lot of experiments in my life, none have been more interesting than the chemical reaction that happens when ART is the laboratory.

Art is the hand that rubs the lamp, what comes out is something only wishes can be made off.

Remember I am talking about you

Our chemistry is like water slowly building up from our feet, to our knees, rising up and then we drown in it. We drown in it but we can still breathe, we breathe through touch and through this feeling… this feeling.

I remember clearly dancing with you; it’s like having sex on the dance floor with our clothes still on. I want to stay close to you a little bit longer, I want to grab your hand a little bit longer til I am holding on to you by my one finger. At the PRESENT, I’m talking about you.

Chemistry is like poison, the one that kills you slowly. The poison that infects the air, so you don’t even realize that you are inhaling death.

Chemistry can be a beautiful illusion, but my god a wonderful trick it is…it keeps me floating, I can’t really feel the ground.

I want to touch you all over, not physically, but just breathe around your skin. I want to dance with the energy you

Close your eyes.

Imagine me and you.

All the things we could do.

Only when the time is right.

Chemistry is what you and I have, and I want to make it an adventure and explore it, after that I will write a map on both our skins so we don’t ever forget it.

But if you ever forget I,
Just imagine
Imagine you and I/ don’t laugh that feeling is real/
Your attraction, I thought it heals… but now I’m in too deep, I/
Like death it reels me in deep, I/
Instantly I combust, don’t ask, with you I’m clear as crystal, but convoluted by your touch, I/
You and I,
We Walt and Chemistry/
Deadly combo Heisenberg

If you didn’t get that, damn you bitch, if you did then hell yeah bitch! I am really going to be high on you, and already I think I’m addicted.

I want to know from you, whoever is reading, what chemistry is like to you?

Resume for a relationship

To be honest sometimes being “single” is a great option, it saves you the hassle of having to undress yourself again and again; In this scenario undress means both literal and figurative. To try and begin a relationship is slowly becoming annoying, especially as a person who knows who they are; I know I am interesting, and can be interesting to most people, but it’s hard to show that in a few lines of conversations. I feel tired about it, I still want to mingle with people, women to be specific, but I’m tired of all these questions, were sometimes the answers don’t really say anything about who I really am.

So on that note, I decided to write something silly but serious; a resume for “relationships”. Which strange enough might actually be a thing. Relationships is in quotation marks because we are adults people, some relationships are really for intimate reasons. My resume might mix words and poetic writing together.

Grey is an unsure color, just like me. I am unsure if I still want play the “I wanna get to know you game”

No really, I’m tired of having to say what my favorite color is; It’s grey, so before you try to mingle with me please read this. If you found me online, depending where online, no that’s not my real name; online I’m like a product, I have to sell both truth and lies, I decided lying about my name is the easiest lie.

I like sports, physical sports, all types of sports, except rugby, I don’t get it and basketball, I like the anime versions. I love people but I hate social gatherings, there make me revert back to my really shy self; Oh yeah, I’m shy but not really shy.

I hate being in closed social spaces; I’m more of an adventurer… I get curious a lot but not curious enough to drink alcohol or do drugs but curious enough to make out with a stranger that has a great smile.

Yeah, I’m a good kisser… at 96% of times

I like to laugh and make people laugh, although recently I have realized a few things really hardly make me laugh now.. everything is so serious!!

I’m not online much, I don’t know why. I love sex, I’m good at it too; however I like conversations, I have a lot of nonsense to talk about… but you gotta talk too, I’m not a comic.

I’m an artist. I love art. Performance arts to be exact. I think performance arts exist everywhere really. We are pieces of performance work

The real reason I am writing this, is really I’m tired of having to say my favorite color all the time I try to get to know someone. I hate questions, I prefer knowing a person just by conversation. Just tell me any nonsense about yourself and I will put my ear on the table and indulge, and tell you about my nonsense, that way it will feel like we know each other than being strangers interviewing each other for a certain relationship.

Depending on what type of person you are, I’m totally boring, especially if you’re not patient; unfortunately these days I don’t think anyone is patient. I want to think I am like a sling shot that you pull back, the build will yield much better result. I like the process more than I like the results, I always say that even when I make theatre work, maybe same with relationships.

I honestly don’t think I am funny, but somehow I seem to have the ability to make people laugh, it’s really strange. I love ice cream, I think Ice cream dates are the best; When eating/licking ice cream with someone and talking it sort of makes you feel like a kid inside. I like that feeling, because it’s always there.

I think people are more free now but it’s scary because it makes us not sure about what people’s intentions are; either you’re not sure about what you want and other people are not sure or you’re not sure, if you know what the other person wants.

Honestly I don’t think I know either that’s why I prefer process over products, the process makes me see clear what can work and what will fail and how to amend.