Yet to come

It holds no promises.

Today, an inconvenience. Tomorrow, a possible struggle.

Instincts stimulate unmentioned ways to get us through today and tomorrow. A personal poetry of equations made for various encounters, trying challenges and bitter revelations. Those inescapable fears that greet us for the very first time. Problems that stand back and giggle at our naive ways. We write our own poetry and its reasons. Some, write it to equate everyone else but themselves.

Display your anger, disappointment and frustration today. If tomorrow's worse, a museum will be made. Speak of your achievements and possessions. When mountains are presented in your hands, you'll be on your knees to be on the papers. Seek for sympathy under the dark clouds, and when the storm comes you'll sail the seas to hunt for more.

It is a flaw of mine - evident with just a scroll below. I'm sorry.

Those afternoons

It was deja vu to me.

It's as though I've expressed parts of it here once, unknowingly.

Absolutely enjoyed Couch Theatre's Melancholy Play by Sarah Ruhl. Singapore needs to be exposed to this form of art, honestly. The elements of abstract art must never be underestimated. May these passionate bunch of aspiring individuals prosper, and entertain us with more of these hidden classics.

It's like experiencing a long, rainy, Sunday afternoon.

Allure our senses.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Really not a fan of forced responsibility and expectation. It's just a big bait, hooking our soul and freedom of will out of sight. I'm waiting to reach towards a time of safety, and a place where no confusions and concerns apply. How I wish I can turn back time and have flawless control over the things around me.

Ah yes, an open declaration of regret and silent pandemonium.

I need a time machine.

Just one.

Seek

An unravelling discovery.
Slow. Unhurried. Patient.

Elegant, in fact.

Admiring without a physical guide.
Not missing a single step.

Like a beautiful, prolonged surprise.
With its very essence recaptured.