Gingerly

The mug was still hot.

Fresh from the microwave,

At first it was burning,

Then slowly it recedes.

An arm swept past the table,

Clearing it of all utensils.

A gruff voice barked an unintelligible command,

As a pair of hands tightened around him.

There was bright light.

A beam shone between his eyes.

Unfocused and dazed from the hauling,

Waiting for the next.

Erratic Behaviour

Rejuvenation

"面壁思过"

A graffiti artist sits by his murals.

Thinking to himself, "what did I have for dinner last night".

As he dives deeper into his train of thoughts,

He questions himself.

What ifs,

He thought.

I could be on the wrong side of the law.

What is,

He exclaimed!

I now know I am in the fault.

Packing his tag-bag,

And his art supplies,

He sets off as a new man,

In search of a new name.

Erratic Behaviour

Running into the Sun

What would you do if you're really sad,

When it's so bad that you lose the ability to feel.

You want to cry but you cannot,

There are no tears to shed.

You want to rage,

To scream and shout.

To throw your hands around a neck,

Coaxing them to eternal sleep.

You are disabled.

The inability to emphatise.

You cannot feel what they feel,

Nor can you feel what you're meant to.

There is no joy.

The pain you feel subsides and washes away.

The cold and heat affects your body,

Yet you stand disrobed in the snow.

Each morning you open your eyes,

To breathe the air of just another day.

Working through life in the speed of days,

The monotonous repetition of the so-called living.

You dread going to bed,

Afraid of the next day.

Not wanting to awaken,

In the wake where all is dead.

You wonder why you sustain yourself for this.

Would self sacrificing be such selfish deed?

You know that you are depleting the world of its resources.

You hate wasting; but what do you do when you are the waste?

Parts of you continue to rebel,

Trying to gain the upper hand in this war nobody waged.

Your new found optimism is formidable,

But is it enough?

Doubts and questions cloud your mind.

You know not what to do.

You seek advice and help but they avidly avoid you.

There is only one decision to be made.

Stop the persistence and perseverance,

All to be won has king been lost.

There is nothing left to lose,

Where in losing, you can finally win.

There can only be one goodbye...

Erratic Behaviour

Prints

I am a predator.

Cunning and opportunistic.

I may not like what I do,

But the window appeared and through the window I went.

The cat is out of the bag.

This isn't a secret.

I doubt the feeling is mutual,

Waiting for the train again.

Erratic Behaviour

Ambivalence

My street is deathly silent whilst nearing midnight. Soft flutters of my neckerchief,
Irregular wet thumping of my heart,
Embedded deep within my chest cavity.
It shatters the polished icy atmosphere.

A baby sleeps in the room facing the street.
Rough coughing and spluttering disrupts her otherwise peaceful slumber.
This winter has yet to go cold,
Alas, the child will die.

Erratic Behaviour

Void-walker

An abandoned 16th century chapel lays in waste. Of what used to be a place of joy, merriment, and luxury; it has slowly degenerated as time crept by.
You can still see the cobblestones laid underneath the ruins, rough and crudely shaped to fit; a testament of its unwavering endurance.
Streaks of daylight splays across the nave, dancing and weaving itself through and between the crumbling stone columns; whilst filtering itself through the dust kicked up behind me, creating a kaleidoscope of colours.
Panes of century old windows lay cracked and damaged; whilst scattered across the barren wasteland.

Erratic Behaviour

Christ Has Fallen

"The cross has fallen!"
"The cross has fallen!"
"The cross has fallen!"

These words echo in my mind as I pass by.
I stroll by the fence to gaze upon the horizon, where green rolling hills and clustered evergreens swathe the landscape. There is no end to this mass of green.

Standing parallel to me, there they lingered. Large brown eyes lingering on me as I came into sight. They track my every movement with baleful eyes, the eyes of a dying breed.

Jesus Christ is our saviour. We pray and worship Him for he is all, but holy.
We know not his existence, a figurine written in holy manuscripts which claim of his great feats.
Yet, we pray.

Why would one devote oneself to the judgement of He who exists not in flesh, but in the embodiment of our minds; when we, as ourselves has achieved just as much?

Till the end of the day, when the cows go home; the cross will stay fallen. It shall not rise again.

Why pray to an unfamiliar God where one knows not intimately, when one can be God himself?

A god is no God, when the simple-minded are being exploited; just like raising livestock to be slaughtered.

Live to die; that is mine purpose.

Erratic Behaviour