A Farewell Speech

I leave this as the culminating word
To be spoken when I rest at last
By someone who knew me in and out
Someone who knew all secrets for the longest,
Who saw me change a million times
And stay the same a million times.
Goodbye fair world, not so fair,
Don't cry yet, I am at peace for good,
Or maybe do cry, because you want to 
And I never stopped you.

I hope you liked the menu though,
I did ask for Italian, not too sure 
If my request was followed.
Not too sure where my stiff now lies,
Not too sure how you feel, how can I be?
Not too sure what lies ahead, if it does,
Not too sure how the pyramids were laid either.

Here has arrived, the awaited moment,

When flaws are kicked
Out of memory and the virtues all start
Flowing in like moths to a lit flame
Like ants to sugar and candied treats
Like tears to the news of a goodbye
Like this very second of still so silent time.
And the reminiscence now so ridden,
Of my anger and my shrieks
Of all the times I made you crave
To snatch your hair out in exasperation
To make you pinch yourself in desperation,
And replaced with all the tranquil memories
Of appreciation for my words written
Of all my work and laze alike,
Regardless of your liking or not.

For death is the one true binder 
That nulls all wrong and heeds all of good
And so do I hope has happened with me.
I am clueless where I will lead, as is science,
To meet the ones I lost is my hope,
Or will I linger around as is the doubt?
Will I bless you all from skies above?
Will I become a god now?
None shall know the answer
A mystery as funny as life itself
Life to which I bid goodbye.

And don't cry for I've died.
You see, I never saw death as the opposite of life.

I saw death as a part of it.

Sleep Eludes Me

 Sleep eludes me like a lover,

A lover that but exists in dreams,

Dreams that bewitch sense,

Dreams, sitting on the fence.

A fence that holds those who sin.

A fence that pricks and hurts my skin 

Skin, that wrinkles, in wait of love and

Night, that lights in dire dove.

Dove that flew around my dreams,

Dreams of lovers, and shrewd means.

Means to wish a pause in learn,

And here I wish, my sleep return.

Revisited

 He revisited.

Came and sat beside me,
And asked why my mix-tape
Mused to melancholy.
And I stared blank into
The whiteness of the blank walls
That surrounded me.
I looked out the window
Waiting for answers to pass through me
But the day was as silent as my lips
And no winds blew
Carrying the replies I needed.

His smiles started to level.
And he demanded reasons of my silence.
And reasons, were met with silence.
The window was still open,
The horizon grew invisible
Covered with gray clouds
I could feel the rain's first drop
As could my eyes, wettened, by rain?

He gave up, told me I needed help.
But didn't offer.
The rains weren't concealed anymore.
That day saw a deluge.
And he left, like always,
Under the coloured shades of his umbrella.
My mix-tape kept playing
And rains poured, everywhere.

He was me, younger.
He was happier.

Eclipse

The luna had arrived and hid the sol
And plunged in darkness the
whole wide land of the masked souls.
And the souls did come to view the glory
of a barren moon
Concealing that which
whose stories were told.
The birds illusioned
their sun had gone .
And their time
to chirp and play was slept
to rest this rebelling day .
Then came the brainiacs with
ideas thousands.
And theories of how the lives of
humans lay in unrest
For an arrangement of
bodies unheard away had been
so naive to nocturnal nascency .
And the glittering
eyes of a tad fat teen
Shone as white as a keen sunday,
And another box of a
checklist was ticked away to glee . 

Chaos

What if man never came into existence?
Man, funnily enough, a synonym for humans,
And not the half of them.
What if man, again, never came into existence?
Existence, that demands to be proven.
Existence, that tests your threshold of tolerance.
Tolerance, another creature of mythical memory.
Memory that is a bubble waiting to be popped open
And deluge the unknown air of nascent nostalgia.
Nostalgia, an over-worked vagrant
That used to be a prince,
Until memory turned malignant,
And desires turned dark.
Dark, the reigning emperor
Of the gentles of night.
And night, the mysterious warrior,
That wins the lost war against truth.
Truth, that is everything but true.
Truth, as fickle as fame and flame are.
Truth, so misrepresented in its different chronicles,
Disguising lies as the absence of true reasoning.
Reasoning, that grows scant
In the irrationality of broken belief.
Belief, that existence should be worth it
And be not a solemn song
That placidly plays away to peace.
Peace, that is unknown, unheard of and unwilled
In all years that man, and woman, existed.

What if man, and woman, never came into existence?