you gotto throw away the o' worn-out tooth brush spontaneously,

or not, you'll be using the same old tooth brush, day after day.

it is inefficient to brush your teeth with a blunt tooth brush.

there is an old chinese saying,

'if the old do not go, how can the new one come?'

without love, a person degenerates.

too much love can cause anxiety.

too much sleep can cause depression.

i can come back.

i can.

i know i can.

i must know; i can.

what do i expect of anything from anyone,

when i'm already;

all at fault?

i'm all of nothing,

a life i cannot sustain.

how should i give,

when i don't even have?

i read. and read. and read.

gaining, achiving, and growing.

finding rhythms in words.

getting that beat right,

into you,

through you,

within you.

am i a writer,

or a bullshiter?

smiles.

well-maybe, i am just a bad storyteller,

or a modern-talent artistry person that can
ellaborate things in seasors?

than just maybe, i am a use to the world.

i want to be in the scapes of these
wonderful patterns,

that i am changing
into something of misses.

i am a 'missed'.

i miss things.

i bypass/miss things.

i gain friendships.

i gain everything,

but never love.

why?

that is the question
of every lonely person in this world.

we all feel lonely as we aged.

as we all grow old and die.

just like every song ever sang in this life.

i sometimes think, they are just songs.

songs of non-indication of death,
are just songs to every other
paranoia being in this life.

all animals live in paranoia.

we humans shall not arrogantly forget,
that we are also natured like the animals,
implanted with a fighting-for-survival
mechanism of instincts and reflexes.

it is merely our IQ level that
separates us from the animals,
and we self-tagging ourselves;
'humans'.

by the end of the day,
all general living-creatures
are still 'animal-beings',

fighting to survive.

we are all paranoia-beings.

"i'm gonna break my jaw by the teeth,
and a quick vibration-snapping of my neck."

we all live in fear;
separated by the difference
level of paranoia within us.

some fear of their financial.
some fear of their freedom.
some fear of disappointments.
some fear of departures.

but most of us, fear of death.

it's scary, how yr thoughts
focus so much on it,
it actually calls for it.

it's already a fact,
that death is everywhere.

but it is also true;
many things are still 'life' everywhere.
and there is also love.

that is why love is the savior of all time.
as in many religions have taught.

it is always about love.

and how do you seek?

and how do you get?

you have to find.

i fear of not having love,
and live forever not ever havin it again.

i fear of not finding it again,
and will never-ever find it again.

because it is not for me;

i am a terrible-minded person.

i think in riddles,

and blame in philosophical,

and abstract in art.

i don't feel like drawing.
i don't feel like painting.
i don't feel like crafting anything
out of anything and everything.

and these are the moments where it lead me to this;

of not even wanting to know anything,

and just resting.

calming.

placing.

staying.

finally, breathing.

and than it ends.

just like,

(breath)

that.

end of ACT I.

i have a demon within me.

we all have. atleast one.

i believe in magic,
but magic never believes in me.

the thought of every man in this world;
of every woman in this world,

'is she, will she?'

how could anything stays,

when everything is moving?

i'm a terrible person.

i do terrible things;

i destroy everything that surrounds me.

and i can't keep still.

my words are like knives to them.

time is so fast.

it's when you knew when to worry about it,

it's when it's already gone.

before i have to know,

i've already known.

i am obsess over many things,

love for example.

in life, you can only have One
and not two.

learning from the examples of my parents,
that you only need 'one' to make
everything/everybody happy and harmony.

maybe-afterall we ARE our parents,
that life sometimes can be quite unfair.

i've seen from my mom,
even from the number One slot,
you can be brought down to number two.

we have to bitterly swallow the defeat/truth
in able to continue-survive.

but still, i think my mom did a good job.
she survived.

from my weakness now,
i finally see the bravery in my mom,

she is my superhero.

fellow men,
you can only choose one,

only one.

work or love.

balance.

One.

Love rules over wealth.

Love equals Health.

and Health equals life.

you need life.

and you need her.

go Appreciate her.

for she is Love herself.

this is ALL my karma.

love and career,

i've lost both.

i'm near end to my life line,

and its too late for me to fix them.

i thought i was smart,

now i know i'm only a fool.

i'm the joke of everyone,

giving up is the easiest to do.

letting go,

is the best comfort.

i am poor and useless to everyone,

that is the fact.

i wish to have the confidence,

and like of everyone.

but i don't even like myself,

do i even expect anyone to?

i seek God once.

loneliness was still there.

then, i found temporary love,

it ended filling me up with more emptiness.

i seek God again.

for awhile, it helped.

then, nothing.

drugs helped awhile too,

then, nothing.

numb. angry.

i hate to live in solitary.

it is slowly killing me.

maybe if i choose the fact that
i'm only a walking corpse, a hopeless being,

then i would stop seeking.

maybe it is the seeking.

maybe if i did not chose art as my life,

i would be happier,

i would not seek for truths,

i would not be emotionally attached to things.

i would be cold.

and maybe coldness is better than emptiness.

i'm tired of my ramblings.

the tiredness of everyone listening to me,

makes me angrier at myself.

if i was to choose to be a recluse,

i should start acting like one.

instead of being a self-pitying bastard,

that begs for attention from everyone.

does everyone wish to have a time machine
as bad as me?

why am i never satisfy with the present?

why do i long for the past?

i see people dying and suffering everywhere, everyday.

i feel ashame of my ingratitude towards life.

i hate my sadness.

i crave for happiness.

i had a friend who died at a very young age.

he never found love.

never had a career.

never had a chance to discover the world.

when he died, i felt an unfairness in life.

why is everyone's life not equal the share of fun?

what is life?

is life luck?

do we stand a chance to fight fate?

maybe it's my fate
to live this life.

or

maybe it's my mistakes
that leaded me to this life.

if you could find someone who could
cope up with your grumpiness and
put up with your bitchin of almost
everything,

keep them,

they love you.

"all you need is love."

or

living a life at peace without it?

some are fated to have
only one opportunity
to find true-love
in a life time.

and some are fortunate enough
to have a second, if they
ever miss the first one.

this question strikes every one;

will you die in the state of still expecting?

knowing that you've been a fool,
waiting and expecting all this time,
and that it is already at the end,
and you're still nothing,
where it doesn't matter anymore.

or,

accept the defeat now,
that you'll never be whole again,
and seek for something else instead.

the difference of a meaningful life and a happy life;

you can never have both.

the choice of both leads to only misery.

maybe misery is the answer.

or maybe i've chosen.

i'm waiting for a change,
and the waiting has changed me.

do take me away,
if this is it.

the world is in darkness,
light only comes in beeps.

the world is in storm,
i long for the sun.

can you, can she?

can we?

is she, will she?

i've tried, but still.

you can die just 'believing',

or die just 'knowing.

she knows, i know.

is 'tomorrow'

a reason to wake up?

is 'tomorrow'

a good reason to begin?

or simply 'tomorrow'

is just a tomorrow.

tomorrow.

i shall be reborn today,
like how i've always have.

i shall believe again,
like how i've always had.

like today of any other day,
where i believe and be reborn again,

today.

i'll paint you a song,
draw you a letter,

sing you a poem,
by your window,

picture you a lover,
dream of a life.

i had her with this song once.

funny now that i am giving it,

to her again,

as a friend;to be send.

i remember how painful-difficult it was,

for how i know now, how beautiful it was.

that it can be,

if you try to make it be,

and just be.

i know that it was;

a cut that it must be,

an end to it all,

and forever it remains;

to be heal.

maybe it is i, who are killing me,

and not it.

sometimes i go back,

and i think:

was i;he, or he;i?

or was she even she,

or just simply,

she?

i'm so tired of waiting,

but waiting,

is the only thing,

i could ever do.

the fear of death;

words that are not spoken from my mouth,

can i get back?

to undo my wrong; is wrong.

living to it; is right.

i right to live.

i feel so wrong.

inspired by simplicity,

this;

is the simplest thing in my life.

the old question;

do we choose the path?
or the path choose us?

it is my obsession.

then it became a habit.

now,

it is an addiction.


;the old question remains.

the color changes faster than you could imagine.

love is red.

amnesia would be the greatest thing now.

just one mistake and this can be forever.

for ever.

the next thing you know, you're 70.

and you are still here.

life can just be.

just be.

this is a new beginning;

like every other beginnings; of every other years,

this is the new.