Late Night Melancholy

Night after night
As though drunk, you stumble clumsily into her
the writings
You know not to withhold;  to restrain


It’s impossible
Yet like a dying ember you struggle
With wild foresight
And misled judgement


It’s not possible
Your mind swindled by your heart
Your vision is blurry


Maybe it’s possible,
Maybe if you grasp on relentlessly
Like death hanging onto
every soul
A deer bleeding from its neck (infatuated with the lion)


Just maybe

The process of  undeciding and deciding
You imagine a future, a path guided by certain virtues and the change you seek of the world
Yet you’re undecided
With infinite perspectives and thousand morals,
Your vision unending like a flux
Because even change is not the only constant

I’d Rather Be.

I’d rather be in an open field under a blanket of stars, with a cool gentle breeze caressing the skin on my face.

I’d rather be by a monsoon sea, staring as the waves crashed against the rocks, and the smell of salt brushed against my nose.

There are many places I’d rather be, places rather than this rat’s nest. Life void of empathy and feelings, but brimming with negativity and distress.

I’d rather be among tall grass by myself than with humans that are not being.

I’d rather hear the turbulence and thrashing of nature than the outburst and wails of angst.

One day rather, I’d be. Then maybe there won’t be any other rather bes.

Who am I?

It’s hard living with mental swirls in my mind,

Some days would be better than others,

But I can never make it till evening.

Many times I doubt myself, my existence

I can’t truly recall every detail of the past,

Or should I say my mind refuses to unlock the chains bounding my memories.

It’s too difficult to be alive.

I would think I am a degenerate, a mad man.

Everyone is shifted red, further from me

Or maybe I’m the one accelerating away from them.

Ever since this started, I cannot truly present myself.

Or maybe I always had this, or maybe it’s the result of many unspoken traumas.

If only there was a way to restart again, but then again maybe I would walk the same paths.

Just wish to have peace of mind, to have the burden lifted from my soul.

I don’t know or trust who I am. Even when the best person to guide me tells me too I cannot accept myself.

Who am I

Who am I

I feel like an unreal loop.

If there ‘s a God above,

maybe It won’t give a damn

maybe It would

I can only hope for It to end my pitiful and torturous existence.

If there’s a God above, do me a favour if you may, to end my misery in any ways.



For why do we grief? What is that bitter feeling in the heart, the lump in the throat?

We grief when a being dies, a life that once could move but then became motionless. What is the grief? Is it a feeling of confusion or fear? Or is it the fruit of a soul within us? All of us intricately, inextricably linked, all feeling a universal understanding of the language of life, and death. Why do we cry when our parents or pet dies? Why do we feel melancholic when death of strangers and fallen souls flood the news, when we see a character fall still in a movie? It seems in a moment in time, we coexisted with death, with the lifelessness we see. We place ourselves in somebody else’s coffin. Grieve is really an incomprehensible feeling, a concoction of pain, fear, sorrow, regret, …

It shoves aside our daily hustles and reminds us the frailty of life, of every existence. Of how we are weak and still lost, even as we have tried not to be. It reconciles our reality which we often neglect such that we do not indulge or drown in grief.

What do I live for?

To be honest, there isn’t much to live for.

If I were to die today, I cannot deny that there will be lingering trepidation in my heart, a ceaseless pounding in my chest for a long time, maybe there will also be a little clarity in my thoughts.

There isn’t anything to live for. What we make of life is what we deem valuable to live for in it. However, it never was our choice to choose. Surely there will be options, but we cannot choose for freedom is a disguised concept of the human mind.

If I were to die today, would I hope for an eternal omniscient being to cradle me in its arms and welcome my presence? Would I crave for the promised everlasting joy? Or would I dread and fear that I may be thrown into an abyss of fiery torment and unfathomable despair?

I would not hope for either. The concept and longing for a reward after life seems all too humanly and selfish. To want to be freed from the bodily agony on earth, to be rewarded for living a just life, to be punished for having failed to contribute to mankind. Why should we place ourselves under scrutiny by a non-intervening being? By a being who, if had created us, brought along the miseries and evils, yet claims to be good.

Maybe it does exist, far from our capabilities of understanding, just maybe. However, the ideas created of such a being existing is only selfish. It fails to see life for what it truly is. Life isn’t just about living up to expectations or to be confined to the “norms” and reject the abnormal. As humans, we are the most feeling and understanding animals on this planet, we have been seeking to know what we do not know, to find what we haven’t found. We seek to be understanding, and all encompassing, to be able to empathise and be empathised with. We seek to be god.


There is a duality to everything, a dichotomy is the basis for comparison. To define good, there must be evil. To define joy, there must be sorrow. We all seek to be at one end of the spectrums and reject the polar opposites. Yet, there are people who are in the unwanted poles, who lived lives and chose actions we cannot understand. We often fail to be mindful to empathise with these people, until we become one of them. Hence, we should try to always keep in mind that no one is born inherently to cause harm onto others. Rather, their actions are the products of their circumstances. For every action is born out of circumstance.


With all the digression from the initial thoughts of penning this down, to conclude all this,

A life has no inherent meaning or purpose except the ones we define for ourselves. A life worth living is an examined life. There is no such thing as free will as every action is born out of circumstance, hence we should always consider from another person’s perspective. All these ideas can be explored in the many realms of philosophy.

And should I fear death on the day it comes?

No, I should not. I should rejoice in receiving liberation from the shackles that bound me. I should not fear not existing, because I did not exist before.

We should not place huge importance on ourselves as we are all the same, the result of a cosmic ‘explosion’, the same energy debris from the same inception.


The doldrums of life
Always filling the heart
suffocating the emotional being
lack of choices, thrown into dilemma
cannot escape, peripheral vision is encroached with darkness

What is the peace to seek
Where is it
What does it feel like to be free?

The pain resonates with the pulse
it never leaves, only arising like the tides
Like piercing cold waves hitting the heart

Maybe i‘ve totally lost it
lost the mind, the identity
the way to be free
to be sane and normal like (everyone) else
A train wreck that went off the rails in a long stretch of barren desert
without a single wind to mark its existence

But then again, the existence doesn’t matter, it will not in time’s clutches

i just seek/wish for an exit, an escape from this pit, the abyss with no light
any ways would be fine, even if it means to no longer exist in this physical cage