Sea Form Sentiments

Closing my eyes to the sound of crashing waves causes my heart to stir with nostalgia of a lost time. Salt sprinkles the air and crashes with the soft blues of the sky. The senses are quickly overloaded ultimately causing a short-circuit of the nerves. I float lethargically to the rhythm of the waves as I surrender myself to the beat of the ocean.

In my subconscious state, I daydream of my last days with you. Filled with warmth, affection, and sweetness—we couldn’t help but grow weary of them. Now all that remains are sea form sentiments. Sunlight, breaking through the waves, gives much needed warmth to my cold body. I bask in the heat as I reminisce over you. My senses become aligned once again. My eyes slowly open and blinking once, twice, thrice—an image of you hovers above the floating waters. I smile.


Snippet of Writing Without Thinking

Subjective feelings are written across the page confusing the senses. The world turns it’s back on the aloof and misunderstood. Shrinking into the margins are lost compassions and hopes. With it disappears a future of dreams and the rest. Lots of love and ideals are never to be found again. But that sounds wrong. How depressing is that? So, what is your response to my writing without thinking (too much anyway) or pausing?

My Writing

Writers usually write from experience, right? Not just writers, but poets, lyricists, rappers, authors, etc. draw from their everyday life experiences to illustrate and bring a touch of their own personal spirit to their work. If they are good, you may hear that voice, thoughts, opinions, and maybe part of their life story. They sacrifice a part of themselves to be heard, to be felt, and to be recognized. It’s our job to reciprocate the feeling and make it clear that we hear them.

However, I’m different. I’m a closet-case, naïve, and undeniably ignorant in plenty of areas. And due to this, I must rely on my over-abundant imagination and musings of things never to be. I haven’t fallen in love nor do I believe I will engage in a romance. Alas, it also seems my years on this planet leaves me with plenty of things yet to be experienced, too. I’m also very lost.

So, how do I write and how am I inspired? By the stories and sentiments of others mixed in with my own subjective feelings and responses. My writing, poems, stories, and lyrics (okay, I try) is a melting pot of common themes; although there are odd ones, boiled into my own perspective and fantasies. The one thing that I lack is experience and perhaps the proper discipline to write intelligible lyrics. However, I strive to be able to input my own side to the story.

This competitive, cruel, smothering, albeit, loving story of this world inhabited by the most complex and strangest creatures in existence–humans. So, why not I try to gain a footnote at least? Who knows what may happen if I try?

Future Love Life?

This title makes me laugh since I know there is absolutely no future in my love life. It was dead before I even existed. Honestly, how can I even amuse myself with such thoughts of love and affection from someone unrelated to me? What a burden I would be. I can’t do that to him. No, I can’t, but I never have to worry about that, because no one will love me in that way. If so, (again, not gonna happen), mental problems? I must be content with love stories, love songs, and flippant words of fake flirtatious romance. Dramas are a bonus. It must be nice, I think, as I read the affection a girl receives from her boyfriend/husband or as I listen to love songs and mild flirtatious words of the singer. I think it must be great for their fans (all of them must be cute and sexy) to receive this and won’ t their future husbands/wives be lucky…But, I still want kids in the future…I suppose I will adopt (I don’t mind).

My Voice

My voice is silenced at once to the roar of an opposing crowd. My own thoughts are torn away from me at the shock of your cruelty. You chase away my voice and deaden my thoughts. In a world of a billion voices, I can’t back down in being heard–cause out of all these voices, many are silent, many are struggling, and others just don’t know what to say. I want to be one of the voices to be heard. I’m quiet, I know, but I still have plenty to say. Locked in my heart grows grievances, sentiments, and thoughts that I can’t stop. I need an outlet–a conduit to release everything. That is why I write.

Too Late, Too Soon

Love grows passionately like a Spring flower

With it brings fresh memories of you

My heart thumps along to the sound of a rain shower

It washes away my lingering confidence


Too late, when I realized my mistake

Too late, when I finally chose to listen

Too late, when I closed my heart

I was too late to recognize love changing into insecurities

As I grew closer to you old scars tear open


In our love story, you’re the antagonist

You stole me away along with my self-confidence and esteem

A thief that nurtured my insecurities

A villain after far more than my heart

How could I be controlled like that?


Too late, when I realized my mistake

Too late, when I finally chose to listen

Too late, when I closed my heart

I was too late to recognized love changing into insecurities

As I grew closer to you old scars tear open


I love you so much, but that’s why it hurts so much

My insecurities around you built a wall

Around my heart and shielded my eyes

Finally, I realized my mistake looking into the mirror–

The true agonizer wasn’t you–it was me


Too soon, you realized my mistake

Too soon, you finally chose to listen

Too soon, you tried to open my heart

I was too late to recognize that your love was protecting me

From my insecurities

As I grow closer to you old scars mend

Christmas Wish

Bright and playful lights remind me once again Christmas has come.

It gives me a little present each time I step out the door.

Evergreens, frost, jingles, and carols are a welcome,

but quickly forgotten surprise.


I’ve been so busy that I’ve properly forgot how  to celebrate Christmas.

Others, too, when I look, are bustling along with their lives–

Caught in a stream of everyday worries, responsibilities, and stresses.


Frustrated, I try to remember a lost Christmas–

The smell of spiced cocoa wakes me up from my reverie

Peppermint stings my nose

As falling snowflakes give me shy winks

It’s cold outside, but my spirit is warm this season


The end of the year is upon us

But already we forget to take it slow

For the sake of our families, friends, and ourselves–

We need to remember the serene nature of the season,

Be grateful and reminisce


Asking me my Christmas wish one starry night, I answer–

Truthfully, I don’t know…

Snow? Presents? World peace?

Honestly, as long as we are happy, then I’m content



Let’s drink cocoa by a warm fire and daydream of

The perfect Christmas

Snowflakes will greet us by the window

While our body heat keeps our spirits warm

During a cold season where we even forget ourselves