creepyjoker

[creepyjoker]

“I’m supposed to give you presents on your birthday” he murmur,

“not the other way around”

His features are deathly beautiful, the severely cut cheekbones and smooth Irish skin,

Tilting my chin up, staring into my soul he whispers

“You’ve given me enough to last a hundred more birthdays”

Happy birthday to Loren Hale

[creepyjoker]

I see you, I see.

You exist, you do.. Just not with me.

Don't turn around, never look back.. You won't like what you see.

Behind you, the creep, yea that's me.

Go with her, your pretty classy girl, the only one you see.

Ignore the shadows, the dark blot that's me.

Following your path, I lost me.

Now even in the mirror, you is all I see.

[creepyjoker]

Maybe I should try this.

“Don’t say maybe if you want to say no.”

— Paulo Coelho

[creepyjoker]

Even tha nights are not nighting, the way nights used to.

[creepyjoker]

How I expect someone to do my work for me.

Too pathetic to do it myself, or maybe too ashamed to commit to it?

Last night I had a dream

that I was running for a bus.

As one does,

in arguably the worst Borough

of Greater London,

where everyone

takes public transit.

I caught the bus,

but only because the driver was polite enough

to stand a bit longer.

I climbed in through the back door.

The space was rather crammed.

I was trying to find my oyster card

to show the driver at the next stop.

In my small town,

there's a rather large roundabout.

It diverges from the main road,

it connects with the driveway

of the only supermarket,

and intersects the tram line.

Trams only exist in my Borough.

Like smaller trains,

capacity of a double-decker bus,

except only one level.

The tram went by, and the bus I was on,

a double-decker, swerved out of control.

It was falling onto the tram line.

I felt this happen, this falling sensation,

and accepted there was nothing I could do

to stop it.

I closed my eyes, held my bag to my chest.

I could feel the glass piercing my skin

and I lay, pathetic. Upon opening my eyes,

I started. I was in my bed, at four am.

How disappointed I was to be alive.

[creepyjoker]

If we are talking about peeling, I'd peel a freakin earth for you, to all the stary things ozone and shit hides.

"Would you peel an orange for me?"

I would peel a pomegranate for you.

[creepyjoker]

I cared, I did.

But by the time I realised that, you knew your worth.

[creepyjoker]

If you believe life is a novel.

Love the ones around, for they persevered the innocence you think is normal.

The obvious in your head is what humans die for.

[creepyjoker]

In English we say:

"And you still think I am the one who is not 'understanding'"

But in urdu we say:

"Usse jyada use humne samjha, usme khudko khodiya kahi.

Aaj akhri saase bhi uske khyaalo m li, pr vo shikayt liye baithi h ki m lauta kyu nahi.

In English we say :

“Out of all people you misunderstood me”

But in urdu we say :

“usey meri baatein ab samjh nahi aati, kabhi jo meri khamoshi ki tafseer likha karta tha.”

[creepyjoker]

Where was I?

When my love was lost.

Where was it all?

When he felt like a ghost.

Why do I deserve love now?

When I was the reason he lost.

What do I find, I ask?

It was all in me, yet now I am a ghost.

Where is my love?

Where is it all?

[creepyjoker]

Outside we looked, who's gonna look inside?

A pile in the dark.

But look closer what might it hide.

It stinks, it's vile.

A grave with no mark?

I saw a smile.

Known yet a stranger.

It's me, me in that pile.

[creepyjoker]

Attracting eyes, pretty much dead inside.

Might they fancy my train of emotions?

I wonder, they wonder what a sight.

i wonder where this pile of mixed emotions is gonna take me now.

[creepyjoker]

Does it matter? I too live in my head.

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 20 March 1928

[creepyjoker]

And I saw it, I felt it, as it left too.

Not leaving behind a void.

When will it leave me through?

Nothing fills me how.

An empty vase? Or brimming destroyed?

Dread fills me now.

Don't go away melancholy

Happiness is gone

Anger too

You are the only one who fills me now

[creepyjoker]

Time and again I see.

When my eyes should be on you.

Regret is what I breathe.

How you see time?

What if, you don't understand the difference?

An echo you laugh, or a windy chime.

Do you see me as a second?

Or the first or an hour.

Maybe you too wish to sit.

Time will pass so will the scar.

Slipping time, falling feather.

We may watch time pass by.

But will we be together?

Do you ever stop and wonder

where the time went?

No I don't mean the passing of time,

Past,

Present,

Future.

No I mean the concept of time.

The fact that it exists,

Whether linear

Or a spiral

Or a social construct .

Because I look at you

And I see

all the mistakes I've made in the past

What led me to the present

My future.

Time stops

And I understand the difference of

Here and there

What and when

How and why

Never and forever

You are within yourself

The very paradox of my existence.

Where did the time go

I don't know

But I want to find it and spend it with you

The rest of my days

The end of days

Past, present, future

I want it to be you

Or maybe we sit here

And watch time pass us by

But at least we are together

[creepyjoker]

Who will, if not me?

Sara Teasdale, from The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale; "Dept,"

[creepyjoker]

"Be it the hate you feel for me, or to break my heart if you may.

Just come back, come back even if it's to leave me again not to stay."

Ranjish hi sahi, dil hi dikhane k liye aa.

Aa pher se aa mujhe chor Jane k liye aa.

~Ahmed Faraz sahab