Wolf eyes.

His eyes,

so fierce,

it could almost pierce my heart

right then and there,

fast-forward the love part, the drama, and the heartbreak,

shoot into the ending and crush my heart.

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The world is overweight

Altitudes of rocky mountains

plunged on my shoulders,

tearing up my muscles,

rupturing my vessels,

slowly drawing my soul out.

That’s what the world’s burdens feel like.

What about the world?

Carrying all those creatures and their filth.

Tolerating being stepped on, shitted on.

Enduring with the pollution, be it chemical or mental.

Accepting all the change that has happened to it’s ground and sky.

Living all alone,

playing the bad guy

and taking the blame

of not just one being, me,

but also the seven billion beings still breathing,

and don’t forget the billions of people who lived before our time.

Witnessing the history built by the creatures

who blame it for their incompetence.

I wonder what kind of weight it carries.

I wonder. I wonder if I wonder is spelt correctly or not.

Deaf

I diagnose myself with deafness –

and blindness in some days,

when my eyes are swollen

and all I can distinguish are the light and dark.

But deafness is permanent.

I can’t hear myself think logically.

Even the annoying voices have become so faint.

I can’t hear the scream that escapes me

when I lay down in bed,

or the prayers I constantly repeat in desperation.

I can’t even hear the silence,

only a persistent buzz;

a broken radio with no signal.

Could be a chronic infection in my ear,

secondary to my insane state of mind,

cured if only my sanity is treated.

Silence is but a temporary escape.

I took the last chain of smokes for tonight

as I sat in the cold,

hoping the chilly night would freeze my heart,

freeze my emotions for a second,

but all it did was numb my hands and face.

I placed my ear plugs,

replaying the songs that best described my misery

at maximum volume,

silencing the sound of the wind,

the sound of passing cars

the thoughts that still rebelled against its host,

and the shriek that exploded from my trembling mouth.

The tears followed, but my face was already numb,

so I didn’t feel it running down like Niagara falls

Today’s cigarettes have already burnt my throat,

I couldn’t feel the cry that screeched itself out.

I only felt the aching tightness that blazed in my chest.

And between the first song and the next, a pause –

I heard it.

The suffocating sobs that I have tried to bolt inside this fragile self of mine.

I’m traumatised.

I hid under my coat,

waiting for the wind to blow me away.

How many do I need to smoke to burn…?

Chain-smoking.

A new hobby, a habit.

How many do I need to smoke to burn my lungs?

How black are my lungs now?

Are they black as my soul?

Stained by all of the sins I’ve done and will do?

How will I describe them if I ever dissect myself?

Black as charcoal?

Black as midnight with a few popping stars that faintly shine, indicating some kind of existing hope?

How many do I need to smoke to destroy my lungs, so it can shut-down my heart?

Why do I need to indirectly damage my heart?

Why don’t I just get a knife and stab it already and get it over with?

Why all of this dramatic slow suicide?

Ah, yes.

Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten.

I don’t want them to directly look and know that the problem lies in my heart.

I don’t want them to find the name carved within that bloody muscle.

I don’t want them to blame you.

I don’t want them to find out about all this love that I am saving for you.

I don’t want them to find the painful sufferings and point their fingers at you.

I don’t want you to know that these are my true emotions towards you.

I don’t want my strong self to be crushed by this weakly that I am now.

I want the love I have in this beating muscle of mine to be hidden from prying eyes, including you.

I want to burn it along with my soul and leave no trace of it in this cruel world.

So tell me,

How many do I need to smoke to burn my existence from history?