The path to no where

That’s what it feels like doesn’t it? The future, I mean. A path unknown like a path to no where but every step we take is somewhere and every step into somewhere is a step into the future.

And just like the future, I have no idea where this post is going. I don’t have an excuse or an explanation to describe why I stopped writing for two years (well, almost two years). I guessed I got shy to expose so many of my secrets online (even though it may be anonymous). I don’t know why I started writing again. I thought I stopped because I found happiness. And maybe because this blog contains the scars I could not carry so I couldn’t bring myself to be exposed to it again. 

I don’t know who reads these posts and I don’t know why but I’m going to keep writing anyway because that’s what I feel like doing in the present. I’m too tired to remember the burden of the past and I’m too nervous to focus on the mysteries of the future so I’ll just appreciate what is happening now. 

And right now, my family is playing a card game while I’m sitting in the dining room writing. I should probably join them onto the path to no where. 


A Chain of Events

An estranged whimper escapes my tongue,
A street of strangers stares me down,
Some politely offer help,
I reject and deny again.
I appreciate your kindness but it could not accommodate me.
I run towards the only peace I know,
The bells sing an hour has gone.
I race up to the helping hands,
Only to be chased away by ants.
Next came the statue of peace,
Where dead soldier lies with liberty.
I can only think back to the time,
Where my friend and I sat discussing life.
Now I am here all alone,
Discussing life on my own.
An old man walks by twice,
Maybe the third time he would ask me why?
It turns my weak bladder control,
Sent me sprinting for toilet rolls.
A half hour left until it close,
A half hour for somewhere to go.

When seven came,
I went back home.
Scared and frightened,
More than before.

When nine came,
I walk in the dark,
An hour long,
All sixty minutes of luck.

When midnight came,
I wrote this down.
Hoping someday possibly one day,
I will never have to count.

Losing Self Control

The things we desired the most,
Are those that should be locked or closed.
The small accumulation of an obsession,
Can make us deny all logical reason.
It is true we can sell our soul,
For a moment of the euphoria ghost.
We lose track of day and season,
Reality is a long reach from our emotion.
Such is that of a careless addiction,
That can spiral beyond our control.
Once we make that initial decision,
We are committed to a lifelong treason.
The bad habits we make use of doing,
Becomes our own hell and undoing.
We create our own prison cell,
When we lose control of ourselves.
We convince ourselves it can be stop at anytime,
Tomorrow tomorrow we will abide.
We become the master of deception,
Associate our weakness with confusion.
The bag of lies we tell others,
Strips away our saviours.
Slowly and slowly we begin to lose sanity,
Until we cannot stop living in fantasy.
The guilt and shame eventually fades,
We are so consumed by what we cannot change.

The key to life is dramatically simple,
So why is it so unattainable?

A Grandmother’s Charm

My grandmother,
Probably doesn’t recognise me,
Yet this grandmother if mine,
Loves me very dearly.
My grandmother,
Once upon a time,
Would gaze at the sky above,
And count the stars of the night.
My grandmother,
Gave me another charm,
Maybe it’s a sign,
To have another chance.
My grandmother,
She’s ageing faster than light,
Her body is waning,
I wish I could stop this crime.
My grandmother,
Has never asked for much,
She didn’t deserve this,
I’m sorry for losing touch.

Dear grandmother,
Mother says I’m just like you,
Her harsh tone is a clear insult,
But I really hope I do.
Dear grandmother,
I will value and cherish life,
I will fight my way for freedom,
I will take back my rights.



Slavery is when your master is always right,
Even when she is wrong,
Slavery is living with the dread,
That your life is far too long.
Slavery is an accusation,
For things you’ve never done,
Slavery is your life on threat,
Your body will never be found.
Slavery is when your rights are lost,
And you disappear into oblivion,
Slavery can break you,
From everything to none.
Slavery reduces you,
It consumes your mind,
Slavery can make you hate,
Until your heart is blind.
Slavery is my home,
A place I do not feel safe in,
Slavery is all I’ve known,
A life full of sin.
Slavery can bake your soul,
Until you’re beyond burned,
Slavery is when she slaps you,
For reasoning and educating her.
Slavery is when you’re forced,
With violence and abuse,
Only once you’ve been exhausted of use,
They sell you off for a new.


We’ve never given much thought about these tiny little bones. Not until we can sense the cavity that has weakened our enamel. Or the sharp pain upon which it comes into contact with an unforgiving taste. They’re almost as vital as the other ‘officially’ important organs to keep us alive. Yet we regard so little of them. We pay so little attention to them until they have become damaged. To the point where no reparation can ever restore their beauty and functionality.

In a way, it is a metaphor for us. We may seem insignificantly small. People may ignore us for long periods of time forgetting our existence until we cease to exit. That’s when the pain hits. That’s when the guilt begins.

Nobody is unworthy until they have become a decayed tooth. Everyone has a purpose as long as they live. Remember that, remember your teeth. Take care of yourself and take care of others. You are not useless until you’re dead.

– FuturePresentsPast