"Here's To Closure"

Got inspired while I was doing laundry just now. Isn't it just the little things that keep our minds well-fed with ideas? By the way, this is just the first draft. Worked on the melody of the chorus as I was writing it down. Gosh, I missed writing lyrics! 

VERSE 1:

hey, soldier boy

who gave you permission

to wreck a heart?

hey, baby boy

think you're a man

with those childish delusions?

took word from another

no different from yourself

what makes you understand

something you never had?

BRIDGE:

here's to the closure

that never happened

closing the book now

of an endless story

CHORUS:

you pulled yourself down

and now you've gone under

you tore yourself apart

as you let it crumble

all I can say now

is that I wish for the best

pray you won't break any more hearts

like you broke mine

VERSE 2:

hey, soldier boy

do you take pleasure

in giving false hopes?

grow up, boy

your juvenile crimes

of poisoning minds

left these hearts bleeding

for your uncalled-for judgments

think you know it all

when you were never broken

repeat BRIDGE and CHORUS

Fun fact: Soldier Boy exists.
Edit: And I don't mean by Soulja Boy 

Of old fears and newfound addiction

"A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions."
- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Title-changing Jinx

It is a major problem for me. Mainly because every time I decide to change titles, I tend to over-think, thus leading me to lose interest in whatever I was writing before immediately.

So, no more. I am just going to stick with the name Project L.C. for now at least until I can get the first draft done.

I need a bigger table. My pinkie and ring fingers are going numb, AGAIN because - the doctor said - the space I have now is too cramped for me to spread my elbows properly.

But, hey, a writer has to start somewhere right? I have been using this same, very small space to write for the past 3 years and I would have to say that the results were more than satisfactory. Or that could be the reason why I have tennis elbow in the first place?

...

Will ponder about this later.

Listening to: "BulletproofAngel" by Goo Goo Dolls
Reading: "Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck: Why We Can't Look Away" by Eric G. Wilson
Watching: "Castle" (Season 5)
Playing: ...
Eating: ..need...breakfast...
Drinking: alkaline water

Iris

The dawn is breaking as a life was withering away. There was a scent that filled the air, slightly sharp but relieving. A strange mixture of a delicately foreign note that is both addictive and unnoticeable in due time as it fades. The sun that will rise to bring forth a new day will be the end of the calmness of the night. The permeating heat will be the death of the cooling mist and along with it the life of this elusive creature.

"Organized mess" - that's what it was.

Never save what you can do today for tomorrow. 

Or in other words:

Never save your documents in one place, instead e-mail it to yourself, make use of those online storage websites.

Yeap, but nope. My recent works are gone. Down the electronic drain. Disintegrated into nothingness. Poof!
And I can't blame anyone else but myself. I had to reformat my laptop last week at the cost of my latest works. Well, I can't really call them "works", more like jumbled up pieces of what would be something worth calling that. When I put it that way, I become thankful that my baby decided to throw a tantrum and made me clear everything up in her system. Now I don't have to look at those pieces guiltily and I could start again.

Good news, I don't have to start from scratch because I have some of the first drafts written down on paper before I rewrote them on the computer. They're not much but I can work with this. Most of them are from before I tried to imitate some of my favourite writers. I lost my way with insecurity and even though I kept telling myself that I should just let go of things that are not mine (concerning more than one thing in my life), my desires spoke of dreams that were already claimed and realized by someone else.
But they were not mine.

So now whether I like it or not, I have to let go and move on. With these scraps of paper, I shall mold the story back together. Only this time, I will make it mine.

Listening to: "Everything But Me" by Daughtry
Reading: "House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski
Watching: "Hyōka" (TV)
Playing: ...
Eating: ...
Drinking: alkaline water

LOVE IS A STRANGER

love is a stranger

misunderstood

often blamed for crimes

never committed

for the fear

and the hate

inside the hearts of the weak

the truth?

love is the only hope

in every weeping soul

in every broken heart

a thunder-less rain

calming

comforting

giving rest to the weary

after the lies

the broken promises

the rejection

the faults unforgiven

for those are what scars us

what we had mistaken for love

ever innocent

ever pure

ever true

that is love

- February 17th 2013 (1.19 pm) 

I have been wanting to write this one for some time now but I haven't had the urge to put it down on paper, until now.

This poem was written while I was listening to this on loop:

I'm Only Human

I can only take so much.

-->

There are two reasons that would make one cry: the first is to not being able to do what he or she wanted, and the second is to not being able to figure out what to do. However there would come a time, a rare point in one's life that would probably be the turning point of his or her life, when these two factors would collide thus leading to a time when one would have to decide on what to do next. This would then decide what would happen next in their lives. Would they be able to follow their dreams or otherwise. 

I am currently at that point.