the rage of achilles

Shadows of Imaginary Friends III

The voices will say you have choices to make. Make sure you don’t break, let alone make a mistake. The shadows of imaginary friends are there to lead you astray. Then leave you, afraid, far and desolate. Blue skies will turn to gray, happiness will fade. But doubt is the death of all things would-be great. Shadows rule over like pharaohs. Where sin is measured in kilos, regret imported in barrels. Welcome to the Kingdom of Doom. Should you escape here, you will have found the light. Should you stay, you might as well have never lived. To be cont’d.

//navk.

Impressions

I’ve been trying to remember her face.

Not that I spend precious minutes of my days partaking in such an activity, but only because she had a face worth remembering. That was perhaps why I had such difficulty remembering.

I remembered her name, sure enough, to be of Arabic origin. Pretty name, which also translated to pretty eyes — which she undoubtedly had. Undoubtedly kind eyes.

Introductions were short, but sweet. Worth it. An exchange of smiles, a gentle handshake.

“Yes, I suppose I’ll have to stay in this course now,” I replied, smiling, though I don’t think she realized that “now” was directly in reference to her.

It was so strange how I could remember every other face, all except for the one I needed to remember. There was something fascinating about her.

“Just ask,” came some manly advice. “What have you got to lose?”

“At most you’ll lose face, oh well.”

“Oh well?” I retorted. “Losing face is more than I can afford.” No, I wouldn’t take the nonsensical route about it, as my comrades had done so many times before.

“I’m unimpressed,” started a much earlier conversation.

“By what?” asked a friend.

“By everything,” was the reply. “People, the world, myself.”

Suddenly, something just impressed me.

“You know why this so exciting?” I couldn’t help but grin.

“Why?” “Because for the first time in a long time, I’m impressed.” It was true.

Only because I couldn’t find any immediate flaws, or any reasons to dismiss her. The way I had become at a certain point in my life was particularly bitter, but of course with reason. She was a paradox, something strange. She didn’t fit the common description at all. In fact, there wasn’t one description to attach to her. Whereas before I would be quick to attach a label or apply a stereotype, she fit none. At least not very easily.

“I can’t find anything wrong with her,” I laughed, seemingly joking but not at all. “And believe me, I’m being critical. It’s not like I’m trying not to find anything, I’m shocked at the fact that I can’t.”

“Either you’re a fool, or you really like this girl,” he said. “Or maybe both.”

I had become an expert in finding things I don’t like in women at that point. I always knew the first places to look, as well. The common reserves were empty, free of stain.

“I don’t get it,” I steadily complained. “What’s up with this girl?”

My friends just laughed. I chimed along.

I became obsessed in finding a flaw. Any flaw. An unattractive beauty mark, a bruise, a pimple, an orphan freckle. Anything to make me dislike the smallest bit of her, but the more I tried the increasingly more difficult the task became.

“I give up,” I declared one evening at our usual circle.

“End of the pursuit already?” asked one of the boys.

“No, the pursuit just began. I give up on trying to find something about her I don’t like.”

Laughter, heads shaking. Relief.

One day she would ask, “What was your first impression of me?”

“Well..”

//navk.

Rebirth

Jeans so saturated. Sedated, I was once infatuated. My heart, in fact you ate it. Constant fluctuation, fall from grace or fall from greatness as my interest elevated. Far from waiting. Heartbeat was decimated, estimated three days to live and I never made it. Gone again and then reincarnated, resuscitated. And though I hate it I take it as a lesson, so now I’m educated. Opinionated, peace in self-meditation and now I’m awake and I can put it all in my resume. The struggle of yesterday is just another step to greatness.

//navk.

I’m reckless, too young to stress this. My mind’s hungry so I ingest knowledge for breakfast. Put the negativity to rest. Before I come to pass, Ima swallow a fistful of breath mints, now tell me if that ain’t fresh to death. Nobody to impress but me, cuz that’s all I really need to bring out the best in me. And then fate can take care of the rest, indeed. I’m a prodigy, you can check my genealogy. You can bet my ancestors are proud of me cuz being this great is all in my biology. It’s not just psychologically, to think and to do is a misunderstood dichotomy. My childhood really got to me, so I always philosophize and do the Socrates, and examine my life. Being miserable is overrated..and sometimes I think so are kids and a wife. I don’t think I got it right, but I know something’s pointing me to the light. I’ll be alright. //navk

Mixed signals, is she single or stacking chips like Pringles? They say love’s a thing of fantasy like Kris Kringle. I feel the tingle of my wifey-senses, so I think twice before I mingle. She’s crisscrossing hearts, play the right cards or you can go fish. But if we’re good we can pick up another season like Maury Povich. I check my fuse, careful not to blow it. If she asks me about my salary I’ma admit that I’m a poet. You see, honesty is a tragedy. But I can’t help it that I’m pulled towards her like gravity. She’s taking up space in my head so rapidly, lavishly. She’s like a filling to a cavity. I’m falling for her gradually, avidly. But don’t be mad at me, I can’t help but exercise depravity. //navk.

Elusive, her eyes were so lucid. Lips so ruthless, fiending for acoustics. I mean, wood..I mean music. I mean, fuck it, let’s just lose it. Bodies steady cruising, carpet-bruising while we’re in the nude. Paint the perfect picture of the mood under the midnight moon.

Drunk words while I’m sober

Inhale the stress, exhale the grief. I could never explain what you mean to me. I thought that it would all come so easily. Never imagined they day you stopped to believe in me. How long will we keep going in these circles? My bruises turning purple, and shades of black and blue. Why is it every time I look at you I see a different hue? But I swear I knew you, I could still see right through you. But I could never trust myself or I’d be led right to you. Why was it that I put in more than one hundred percent? And now I hate that I’m constantly drowning in regret. Am I ashamed of my history? Nah, just what you did to me. Such as putting me through bullshit misery, I was better off as a mystery. Now I’m chugging codeine, wash with Listerine, and overdosing on daydreams. I can’t believe I gave you so much importance, and the fact that I can’t take it back is a bunch of horse shit. Because I swear you’re not worth it — or so they say. I agree with them, in some ways. But at the same time they’ve never lived a day in their lives as you and I. So they’ll never get us like we get us and for why we always tried. You said I changed, but shit, you ain’t the same either. What we needed was a breather, but what you do? — you became a nonbeliever. And I guess pushing you away became something I’m good at. Because you always deny your faults, I never understood that. I know I’m as good as dead in your eyes, I became just another guy. This might hurt my pride, but I only talk about you so to keep the thought of you alive.

//navk.

Occupy Perspective: Overprivileged and taking advantage

Recently the uprising of the people in the Middle East, and their successful removal of their longstanding dictators, has sparked a new kind of bravery among the hearts of citizens around the world. It is now encouraged, perhaps more than ever, to speak out against wrong-doings and that which very well may be unjust. Alas! We, the people, are out to get our voices heard. We, the leaders of tomorrow. As such, a new phenomena has sparked across the globe, having started as a campaign to Occupy Wall Street, and now simply known as the Occupy Movement. Though, I think before we get to occupy the streets in protests to corporate spendings — and thus complaining about the divide between the 99% struggling and 1% that are well off — we should first occupy some perspective on the real matter at hand.

It might not seem as such, but believe it or not, we — those who complain — are actually quite overprivileged to begin with. So we don’t have millions or billions of dollars, or fancy cars, or health care benefits or trust funds or whatever and whatnot. For the most part, we do have: a home or shelter, food, access to at least a basic level of education, family, friends, job opportunities, dreams, inspirations, hopes, and above all — resources to attain many of these if we don’t already have them. Seems simple enough, but as compared to someone in a third world or underdeveloped country — it’s a hell of a lot!

Complain about being in the 99% of the population that does not have health care and insurance or money to pay off tuition. But check the things you do have: perhaps a car, most definitely a cell phone (of which after you add up the bills you pay in a year, you’d be surprised), an iPod or mp3 player, a computer, shoes, clothes in your closet (for some of which you still haven’t even removed the tags). Yet, you’re still not happy.

Have you seen those child sponsorship commercials on television or on your computer (one or both of which I’m sure you own)? Have you noticed while you’re chasing after the newest and freshest sneakers, there’s a child out in Africa content with having two plastic bottles on their feet strapped on with pieces of string? McDonald’s and Starbucks for breakfast or lunch, where there are people sorting through garbage to find just a morsel.

The only time it would be justified to complain is well after those that have nothing do so. Far from the fact that they’re not able to march up to Wall Street and complain, but surely they would probably do so if they had the resources. Through this perspective lens, it drives me to think that the majority of people aren’t rallying against governments out of struggle or sufferance, but rather quite simply out of greed — the constant need for more despite how much people already have.

The other side of the debate is justified as well, the 1%, so they’re called. They worked for their lot, went to school, worked their way up (for the most part), and would argue quite simply that anyone wanting the same as they have should rightfully work for it rather than getting it handed to them.

Either way, the Occupy Movement is occupying too much time and space if anything, and what people should occupy is some sense on the matter that they are blessed with a lot more than they realize.

//navk.

It’s only beautiful because it’s over

I don’t want the title I just want the content. Put it all in context, because you and I are still a misunderstood concept. Taunted but I used to flaunt it, don’t get why the feeling isn’t gone yet. It’s like these memories are haunted. I’m lost, but fuck google maps. How to heal a heartbreak, you could never google that. Words said, we could never take them back. But I’ll argue with you all night just to make it last. You say, “Don’t make me laugh,” always trying to make me feel like crap. Okay, have it your way, it’s already gone too far for us to grasp. Simply put, we’ll never make it back. Because sometimes there are obstacles that you just can’t make it past. Together we were music and now it’s time to change the track. Whatever happened, happened, and it’s best to leave it just like that.

//navk.

Counting Raindrops VII

November rain, remembering past pain, feeling it creeping up like back pain. The same name etched into the back of my brain, story set in the past tense. She is in the past participle, memories continue to haunt and ridicule. And now I’m so cynical, I can’t believe I flipped her reciprocals. And now it’s tinted shades and a whole lot of praise. Saying goodbye to nightmares and hello to the glory days. I feel the bass pumping in my system and rattling the glass. Running laps but I’m not running back. Counting November raindrops, they say the coldest in the season. Plus this year winter’s supposed to be freezing. I’m finally breathing, done with the grieving. Fuck a reason, if I’m leaving I’m leaving. And I’ve left, I just had to get this weight off my chest like losing a breast. I’m done losing my breath and thinking I was losing the best, because I just cheated death. Now my only focus is on paper, that’s a new kind of stress. I’m dodging raindrops until this train stops. I mean, my thoughts — my mind’s twisted in knots. Bring out the chalk, I feel a vein about to pop..

//navk.