I wonder why I think myself to insomnia...Just stand by me.

My mind wanders to where words cannot, and I reach a disconnection between body and image - it is hopeless.
The reincarnation of the devout and the guilt of it all...it is crazy in my world to call upon my worse.


This makes perfect sense to my senseless action and then, here I am, scripting words for a sleeping capsule in the dead quiet of dawn.  I wonder why I think myself to insomnia.


It dawned on me, at age, that I was sensitive to the idea of (or rather, the lack of) affection.


I know you're worth my time when you stand by me with unconditional affection, despite all my faults.
I am not perfect; I try my best to ameliorate my soul - but I do enjoy making peace with my imperfections.


The consequence of acts made in lesser valour, the decades of learning burnt by sudden bursts of flames.  The lessons upheld to withstand the value of hope; the aims of dusk to mourn the dawn.


Fourteen days...that's what wrote the pen of the once amused: Of glory and of doubt, in Sun and in Moon, in Light and in Dark.


Find someone who will see past your imperfections; someone who will care for you despite your insecurities; someone who will never leave  you in the dark.
Find someone who will be proud to love you in public and who will adore you in between the flaws of your time - because we all make mistakes.


More over, find someone who will not give up on you; someone who will try to overcome all fears; someone who will take a leap of faith forward, rather than backward.


It is easy to get rid of old memories when you are busy creating new ones.  But when truth is as asymmetric as your own reflection in the mirror, the fragile entertainment of deciphering clues cannot shorten the distance imposed.


"I want to hear our voices with the eyes of unblinded vision, for strangers wrote of mysteries, but lovers wrote of truths."