Emotional Psychosis

For our rogue minds have a mind of their own.

And everything is right in the moments when they are for us.

Like when we won’t let go because we want to be ‘happiness’ for others at all cost,

—without permission,

even if it means a bad relationship.

Because convenience is staple and maybe lives longer than a broken heart.


Life: Conquering It, Living It

Every day we discover parts of ourselves we never thought existed

That beyond the chaos and the suffering

Beyond our fears and our many lacking things

There is a will, more resolute than just conquering life

A promise and hope within us that we desperately must cling to

We have so much strength is it not frightening what we can do with ourselves?

Writing Tips

‘The Flash’: Rewarding The Deserving Writer In Me

Last night (or should I say this morning) at around 12:30 am, I was doing a little writing. Earlier in the day, I had gone to my cousin for some movies. Now I’m not exactly a ‘latest movie’ buff so it didn’t bother me so much when I realized it was a 2014 Fantasy Sci-Fi. The fact that I hadn’t seen it before was enough reason for me to want to watch it.

I love such movies. Especially on days like this when I want to keep my emotions intact and watch something that has nothing to do with crying or fear. My most recent of these descriptions will be ‘Me Before You’ and ‘Conjuring 2’.

“I have this weird habit of rewarding myself for getting things done”

I remember starting with the first episode which lasted for about 40-45minutes. I continued with the second episode, after which I told myself, “I am going on a movie break to put this article together.” (No, I don’t mean this particular one). When I was done writing it, I remember telling myself again, “Let me just write this second one, then I will reward myself with another episode of ‘The Flash’.


           Who doesn’t love colored socks btw 🙂

You know, I have this weird habit of rewarding myself for getting things done. I have always rewarded myself, somehow, for getting through work, surviving painful Mondays and irritating Sunday nights.

These little rewards, I have come to believe help to keep me focused on what I do and really do add the spark of joy that kills boredom and monotony. I mostly cannot get anything done if I feel any of these hanging emotions.

I reward myself with snacks too. Yes, I do earn my chocolate and candy bars. Sometimes I reward myself with poetry. It’s the one thing I absolutely enjoy writing. What better way to jolt my body into excitement and back on track to get some other form of work done.

Then there is music. I mostly live on Adele, Asa, Christina Perri, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Sia or go all the way back to James Brown, Michael Bolton, Tracy Chapman and Amy Winehouse. Not in that particular order.

There is also ‘social media’ rewards. That is when I allow myself a mouthful of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or even get to call someone and speak to them for a minute or two.

I believe in giving back to myself someway somehow. It works. I am definitely more productive this way.


Because love, this morsel, is just not enough

Actually, this was inspired by the #kpodolachallenge. But (of course!) since I didn’t get around to submitting it, I figured maybe I should post it on here.

Because love, this morsel, is just not enough

There’s no such thing as a ‘sort of relationship’

There’s no ‘kind of, maybe, let’s be together’

There’s no doubt, ‘baby, I want you, but I’m not sure’

No trying, ‘okay, let’s see if this will work’


Bad Talk. All you’re giving me is drifting words

Words that have no grip

Words that are limp

I can almost feel their sag

Before their last letter escapes your lips


Words, these same

That hop out of your throat

Without feelings or a care

Of the magnitude of their torture


I watch your tongue curl as your lips deliver the poison of a thing

You want going on between us like I don’t have a say

Like I should take it or leave it

Like it’s the best that will come my way

Like I should thank you for this generosity


I cannot begin to tell you, though, how grateful I am

That you show me love, this, much

That you consider me worthy to receive

This charity you give.


But when it comes to matters of my heart

And how it can be shattered into a thousand pieces

By non-commitments like yours

I swear, I’d rather take the lone way home

Because love, this morsel, is just not enough.



Desires. Heartbreak. Healing.

Find it.

Find your wings

And darling fly.

Fly from this place

That brings you no joy.


Home will be beautiful

Someday we will leave

this pain behind,

and all the suffering

that has been etched

on our skin will fade away.

We will tear into new bodies

created out of our will to live.

Home will be beautiful

and I promise,

we will get there.



People of unquenchable fires

We are ruins

We are fallen towers

We are remnants of

Fragments of

Our broken selves

We are pieces

And loose ends

Bits and bobs


Rubbles and shards

We are tempestuous spirits

Breaking walls

People with spikes for bodies

And rootless limbs for souls

We are mares and stallions

Running free


Thriving on the edges

We are wandering homes

Because of the desires that scorch our throats


For our unquenchable fires.



Labor of love

There is no story of love without sacrifices

No joy where there’s never been pain

There’s no happiness where sorrow hasn’t thrived

There’s none. No victories without labor.

There’s not a sacrifice greater than loving without self

Or any pain larger than a soul without joy

There’s no sorrow more deathly than an unhappy heart

No labor as reckless as one in vain.



I’m at war with myself

The kind whose loss or gain you feel in equal measure

 I’m at war with body and soul

And I cannot bear one apart from the other

These days sleep eludes me

I struggle to forget how much time has passed

since we last spoke

 Thoughts of many ethics

scurry through the insides of my mind

 I’m afraid,

people like you,


that’s all you’re good for

 I cannot love you anymore

Because when I peruse this thought of doing it all over

I realize

our silence has built a wall so tall

only my rage can go over.


Black Saturday

It was a Saturday

One of those that looked like stress

I remember I couldn’t stand the pressure
of cooking your food
of dealing with your sugariness
of loving you

It wasn’t a good time
But has it ever been

Have I ever come out of my hiding
Have I ever shown my soul,
my music,

have I sung to you?