OMG (part 2)

Here we go again... my many apologies for the weak-stomaches.

Part Passionate Kisser

http://www.quizdiva.net/kindkisser/passionate.jpg">>For%20you,%20kissing%20is%20about%20all%20about%20following%20your%20urges %20If%20someone' kiss to src="> You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable" align="center" bgcolor="#FFA5B2">http://www.quizdiva.net/kindkisser/expert.jpg">> You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

H'ok, just in case it doesn't turn out well... I have been diagnosed as:

Part Passionate Kisser
For you, kissing is about all about following your urgesIf someone's hot, you'll go in for the kiss - end of storyYou can keep any relationship hot with your steamy kissesA total spark plug - your kisses are bound to get you in trouble

Part Expert Kisser
You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantityYou've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks offAnd you're adaptable, giving each partner what they craveWhen it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable


JKLM

OMG (part 1)

Your Kissing Purity Score: 40% Pure

You're not one to kiss and tell... But word is, you kiss pretty well.

Kissing Purity Test

Don't ask why... I just had to find out.


JKLM

Sleepless in SRC

I spent the last night doing all of 4 things:

1. Change the wallpaper on my phone. I love it, but the picture is SO DISTRACTING. But I love it.
2. Venting this knot in my throat. The recent spate of events around me seems to have left a distasteful mess in my mouth. Just had to find an outlet for it, lest I loose my focus at thiss crucial time.
3. Chatting with 2 other confused souls. For 6 hours, we debated, advised, shared and exchanged opinions on each other's actions. And I've made an interesting discovery about one of them.
   Interesting because I had never expected the state of things to be at such a disposition. Can't say that I'm exactly excited about this discovery. I accept it, nonetheless.
4. Musing over Josh Groban's Confession. The words, and the melody just moves me. His voice topples these sandcastles and sends my imagination tumbling. Oh, such sweet pictures this song stirs in my head.
   Bad... bad bad bad...

Great... It's 8 am and I still haven't got one bit of my work done.

Sheesh.

JKLM

You Were Expecting...?

Haha... I'm not surprised... At all...

Here's what a computer REMINDED me:

Your Love Style is Agape

You are a caring, kind, and selfless partner. Unsurprisingly, your love style is the most rare. You are willing to sacrfice your world for your sweetie. Except it doesn't really feel like sacrifice to you. For you, nothing feels better than giving to the one you love.

----------------------------
FALLEN

Your music, my soul.
Your words, my world.
Your muse, my rhyme.
Your song, my crime.

Moonlight is always vague
A coat of ivory it makes.

Poetry is always tragic

Lest it loses it magic.

A life forfeitd
A sin committed.
You play you pay
Has there been another way?

At what price
At what cost
You're not surprised
About this loss

While all is fair
In the campaigns of pain
It wasn't your anger
That became my bane

T'was my own
T'was my fist
A cut to the bone
Another scar to the list

Your music, my song
Your words, my antidote
Your faith stays strong
As I learn to dance to your ode.



JKLM

Echo (Part 2)

A strange tune plays on the night wind tonight
Mild like smoking cinders yet gentle like a sigh
Perhaps its the stardust of an unwritten rhyme
Perhaps its the whisper of passing time

A poet bent over his mellowed parchment, searching
For a sign, for a picture in his mind, an inspiration
Blind to the sickly tungsten ghost that haunt his lair
Deaf to crickets and the playful night air

A hearbeat echos through his weathered cage
Urging this art in him to grow, to burn, to rage
Another seduces his pen, his rhymes, his mind
A heartsong, an impression, a tale of love divine

What hands can hold a moment in time;
What eyes can melt this heart sublime?
What gems hold fast to this poet's dreams
Bent over parchment, flowing ink on cream.

Have you ever felt an archangel's wings
Whose touch would make your senses sing?
Have you seen a musician's commanding hands
Sweep men aside like piles of sand.

No borders nor pickets nor iron fists
Could stand in the way of a poet's gift
No door no wall nor suit of iron and steel
Could ever hold fast against rhyme's will

Yet with one swift glance of truth, of life
May sweep through ruins, lines of strife
Though angel's wings will never be seen
By eyes that rhyme and play lyrical sin
Her breath, a touch of phantom warmth
Will mould the dust and move the stones
To bring new life even to dry forgotten bones

A rhyme, a song, a faint longing
A poet, an echo, a heart storming.
A hope, a prayer, a tear running dry
A star, a moon, an angel passing by.

-------------------------------------


Finally, an echo is complete.


JKLM

The Silent Music of Your Fingers

These are the nights when there are more thoughts than words could ever hope to enslave. These are the nights when restless fingers defeat a weary consciousness. These are the nights that are filled with the silent music of your fingers.

--------------------------

A digital canvas.
A black cork-board.
A picture, an idea.
A smile.

A frozen stanza,
A sketch, in anticipation.
An image in revelation,
An idea put on hold.

A mind, caught;
A body, seized.
A soul, enslaved
By your subtle strength.

A tune -- beautiful;
Slow, measured, graceful.
A hand -- steady;
Trained, familiar, graceful.
A language spoken in tune,
A bond shared in silence.
An aspiration, a hope.
A subtle dance of shared grace.

A digital stage.
A blank soul-scape.
A memory, an inspiration.
A story.

-----------------------------

I just can't help myself. It must've been the lukull dejeeling tea at Coffee Club Express. I might have been the night wind. It might have been the forgiving dampness. It might have been the warm shower. It might have been that digital tune.

It definitely was the silent music of your fingers.


JKLM

Ponder

"Who is the outer teacher? None other than the embodiment and voice and representative of our inner teacher. The master whose human shape and human voice and wisdom we come to love with a love deeper than any other in our lives is none other than the external manifestation of the mystery of our own inner truth. What else could explain why we feel so strongly connected to him or her?"

What do you think this means?

What revelations does it hold for you?


JKLM

Report Card

I just survived a little ordeal over the last few hours -- a committee threatened to collapse from outstanding problems and a lack of communications. Time is running out for Sports Ball, and it feels like one of the last few episode of 24.

I guess things will work out in the end; like a mythical horde army, once the artillery pieces and berseker ranks are in place, strategy takes to the bench. With the war-horn,a furious thunder of feet, fists and metal will be unleashed. H'ok... maybe not in such magnificent drama... though I could probably write an entry on this...

But the devil IS in the details... Just like how you'd buy a piece of self-assembly from IKEA and expect it to come with all the instructions, nuts, bolts and little blessings, Sports Ball is being being assembled, but slowly. Progress has been sluggish in the areas of liaison cos of the huge levels we need to liaise through. Programs can get real tricky, with so much details to be looked into. Do you check all the nuts, bolts and accessories when you buy that self-assembly? Well, we don't wanna end up a piece short now, do we? Oh boy...

My new teacher has issued me her first report card. I guess I've been warned before about this, and I've seen it coming... My new teacher's comment: JK has done well so far, but needs to work on his time management. Can be a bit of a brat when facing unfavrouable situations. Keep up the hard work!

I guess it's true, to my disappointment and regret, that I can have such brat tendencies when situations don't seem to work out. It seems that when things start to close in, and people stop being nice about things that need to be done, when I find that I can't go according to my plans... I just feel frustrated. Time to bend to these circumstances again. I guess in retro-bitch-spect, everything could be avoided, because I could / should have said 'no' or did something along the way. But such comments are not constructive, not at all, when your mind blinded by the thumb of a rising heartbeat. It's not as if I've stopped trying or can't be bothered. Don't take it out on me, please.

Had to take a good half-hour of silence and meditation to clear my head yesterday. Frankly, while a resolution this occasional brat-tendency seems attractive, I find that such an end is in itself pointless -- situations are always dynamic, who could tell what's the next thing that sets me off? My only weapon against is peace, my only ally is mindfulness; on this sea you are my lighthouse. Because of you, you, you and you.... I am reminded of why I should remain in control and maintain my focus.

I owe much to this teacher, and also to her other (unwilling) students like you. Keep the lessons coming. We're ready.


JKLM

A New Teacher

A lousy situation.
A tight deadline.
A new teacher.
Stress can be so truthful.

I look into my mirror.
An image, an ally.
Not mine though.

I look into my hands.
A reminder, a sign
Of your support.

I look into my heart.
An understanding, a need
That I must be responsible.

I write now
With determination, with haste
That I must clear up this mess that I've become part of.

I hope it works out well this time.


JKLM

Echo (Part 1)

There's been a rhyme on my lips, a song on my tongue... playing and playing over and over again. This poem has been almost a week in the making, refining itself and redefining itself in unimaginable ways, through most unexpected ways. Thank you for the little things and making everything feel so perfect.

I guess I'm learning how to dance again. There's a music in my soul now that plays so subtly and so strongly. Feels just like it should. When was the last time you slow danced? When will the next time be?

What flows from my fingertips now are no longer words, but a sort of contemplative silence -- an echo of music sneaks down my hallways, stealing through the dark. Those snapshots of images, those feelings frozen in time; these moments are silent, but filled... I can't even begin to lock them down in these clumsy shapes of black on white.

My senses seem ablaze tonight... Been down to Spotlight at PS. Picked up and dusted off ideas, revived some freeze-dried inspiration and tickled my senses. Time to get cracking at some ideas I've hatched this afternoon.

I'll miss the twilights.


JKLM

Saved

It's been a long day.

Since 3 p.m., I've had a poem ringing in my head, rolling on the tip of my tongue. Inspired by an inspiration, born from a moment of gold -- this rhyme toyed with my lips as it did tease my mind. Always I found a feeling in my gut driving me closer and closer to something definite, only to back away just before its revelation. Such suspense...

Since 3 p.m., I can't stop smiling.

Out of your words, another poem was inspired. Out of you, a soul has found a peace to miss. Because it's you, I'm sure this smile will stay.

Since 3 p.m., I've been unable to log onto CORS. Good god, it's only tutorial balloting man!

Since 3 p.m., I've been moving around from Science to SRC, to NTU, back to home and then to Raffles Place. Finally, at midnight, I stepped onto my front porch to the greeting of two other furrballs. I'm glad they never forget their kind. Though sleepy, their acknowledgement of my home-coming is still nonetheless heart-warming. Wagging tails and whiny slumps was their symphony, and my hands their conductor.

It's good to finally get home. It's good to finally feel home again.



JKLM

What Others See In Your Eyes...

Ok, so this is what another computer told me... Not too far from the truth, if you ask me. But I just don't get it -- why do the pictures ALWAYS have to be of females? The damned description says GREAT ANIME PICTURES... sigh...


People see craziness in your eyes! Either that or
they see bigfoot's reflection or something...
You are really goofy and enjoy freaking people
out. You probably have a good sense of humor to
boot. Be careful though. Some people may
mistake your craziness for stupidity. But just
remember this: You do not suffer from insanity!
You enjoy every minute of it!!


JKLM

Just for Fun...

Here's what a computer told me... Just for fun, cos I haven't had ice-cream in a while... hahaha

Take things easy is ur life..U just wanna have
fun!And of course...you looooooove chocolate!

JKLM

Random Thoughts In The Dark...

"I wanna go home... Lemme go home..." sang Michael Buble.

"I am alone, at peace -- my mind roams..." was my reply. Seated in this foreign darkness with my back proped against a crib of wood and metal, I felt strangely at ease. As if something in me just sighed. And it does feel good. Perhaps for once, the poet in me will lay down his pen for a while.

Like a phantom flame, my laptop screen illuminates my face and adds a dull glow to my sun-burnt skin. In the background, Michael was still singing... His siren song calling to my sleepless soul as an invitation to a dream far away: a dream that was like this darkness, all around me, undefined, natural but yet so comforting.

Perhaps it's the pant of the ceiling fan, its beastly motors beating the enslaved air in the room, forcing them to bend to my implicit demands for cool. Perhaps its the foreign furnishings and furniture. I've always found a strange comfort in foreign places, as if we have all been granted a golden chance to start afresh. But then, there is always a hint of sadness that follows this: the knowledge that there is a music in your soul that follows your travels no matter where you go.

For now, this poetry sings to me. For now, your music fills this space. For now, my fingers don't feel so clumsy as they dance with tendrils of darkness. For now, my mind is calm and my heart hums a tune in unison with the darkness.

Perhaps its the image of a mountain range, its shape and contours familiar to the hikers that hug it, crowned in clouds and a lazy morning sun. A shadow of giant, layed on its side barely awake in the rays of gold. While untold stories have been woven into its trees and streams, for now, this hiker sees a gentle giant. And there is a strange comfort in watching in wait... waiting for the giant to stir.

The darkness is filled with my tapping and thoughts. My poetry has been reduced to sputters of late. The words don't rhyme like they used to, and the art no longer whispers to me. The halls of this museum are silent for now; I have only my footsteps to echo down these walkways of marble -- so cold but so beautiful.


JKLM

Lost & Found

I've recently been stormed by an unprecedented "sensory storm". There has been a rhythm awakened within me like never before, seeking out each picture-perfect moment in my life with a vengence. I feel a growing hunger within my soul to capture each of these moments, short though they might be, to immortalise them in words and lyrical portraits. My words are still clumsy and my lyrical arsenal blunt and limited, but the soul had become ablaze and molten.

The poet has awakened, the romantic revived and the cynic allied. Now, I'm a mess but I'm strangely excited about being one. If my rhymes don't make sense, perhaps they're not supposed to -- just appreciate them as they are, if you can. We are all poets, of different rhyme and time; perhaps we will eventually pick our way through the lost to the found.

-----------------------------------

LOST & FOUND

A new muse.
Vintage.
Lost, searching and bemused.
Found, preoccupied and engaged.

Moments like stardust,
Scattered on marble and ivory;
An ochestra of two,
Sing a beautiful story.

Art so rarely personified,
No canvas, no screen, no bright light;
Yet phantom strokes of subtle hands
Touch a soul and set a nerve alight.

Random in time, in space in memory,
Of questions, dreams and poetry.
A you, they form in technicolour light,
A smile, casual style and eyes of bright.

In the dim you play a tune to me,
A merchant of dreams, of tragic beauty.
A comforting sound we offer in return,
For a peace of mind we know we can turn.

In time, in age, in mystery,
Is your footstep on this plain of me.
Your casual twirls, flutter and prance,
Maketh in time, a beautiful dance.

You ask why I often dance,
To the march of duty, honour and chance.
I ask why you often sing,
To the beat of irony that life brings.

I am fast losing my fight to your rhyme,
An energy so simple -- this time.
I am drifting on in hope to find,
A promise land of your design.

Lost and Found
Found, yet lost.
Perhaps a choice,
But at what cost?


JKLM

Electronic Wisdom -- Contemplate

Simple and meaningful. Consider:

Don’t we know, only too well, that protection from pain doesn’t work, and that when we try to defend ourselves from suffering, we only suffer more and don’t learn what we can from the experience?

As Rilke wrote, the protected heart that is “never exposed to loss, innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness; only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied: free, through all it has given up, to rejoice in its mastery.”


JKLM

Gems

I found a pair of gems today,
Warm and hazel they were.
Set in a crown of gold and bronze
Shadowed by its own dark lustre.

I found a pair of gems today,
Through glass and linen they glowed.
One ray found a way to dance
And tickled a pearl black as crow.

I found a pair of gems today,
Behind steel and wood they were wrapped.
But a fire reflected in their depths
Of time, of stories so well kept.

A pair of gems found me today,
Among the smoke and lights.
Though their feet were quick to prance
A touch lingered and burned all so slight.

I found pair of gems today,
Warm and hazel they were.
Together with their crown of gold and bronze,
An art to haunt for sure.

-------------------------------------

I'm loosing this fight. A man should never have to be made to choose the way I had to choose. And the choices are still awaiting a champion -- one I fear I may have to be again.

------------------------------------

This week is absolutely nuts. Quoting Penthesilea: "yeah... too many things... too little time".

And this gets better with an 8 am lecture tomorrow on Philosophy. Just how perfect can the timing be? I swear, if timing was a module, Life is trying its utmost to help me fail it. Sheesh...


JKLM

In A Corner...

I still have your stuff in a corner of my house.

I don't know what to do with them, frankly. While you were only too glad to dispose of mine, I find that I can't return the favour -- not without one too many stops-to-think.

I see those bags everytime I get home, just before I walk up the stairs to the room that used to be ours at moments we thought would last forever. Sometimes I still stop to look through what I had put in them. Most of the time, I stop my pointless excavation before I make the inevitable discovery.

The clothes you gave me still ring true to my taste in colours and cuts. Tastefully chosen and timely presented, I wore them with a distinct appreciation. I still look at them in the same way, but I know the fabrics will never feel the same way again. Always, the tragic beauty in these things that land up in my hands.

That painted wooden star, sharply broken in two between the arms, still lie atop the pile; its wounds remind me of our frequent episodes of war and the painful but incomplete separation I afforded you. You see, while you meant to demolish my, now ugly, work of art you had neither the strength nor patience to complete it. Thus the compressed-wood-chips board was left with a dislocated limb and an irreparable wound.

I understand that you did what you felt you had to do. I can't hope to say the same for myself, though because in hind-sight I see my faults and at the same time dare not assume that I had acted in total accordance to my judgement. You would not accept my apologies, even though I had done what you wanted and nothing more beyond that. If you were to blame me for being incredibly impersonal, clinical and transactionary in this aspect, you'd be right. There is nothing much that I can say now about my actions that can shed the kind of light present at the moment of my decisions.

And so I still see those bags whenever I walk down the stairs. Of course there are other things -- your letters, cards, pictures, our christmas caps... And these thoughts.

Moving on... What DOES that mean, anyway? Coming to terms? Forgetting? Abandoning? Accepting? Or simply choosing one of these actions?

Then, I guess, we've both moved on in one way or another. It's just bags of stuff I should be seeing...



JKLM

Crazy

Why do these stupid computers keep thinking I am a girl? Aargh… Not that I’ve got anything against them, but they promised me many anime pictures and possibilities when I took their darned survey lorh… Sheesh…

Anyway... things can get sooooo crazy when you're not watching. And school is starting tomorrow...

--------------------------------------------

Have you ever taken a look at life and seen so much poetry; the hustle and bustle just rings a familiar soundtrack to this melodrama of life? Have you ever narrated to yourself moments of gold, which would have made perfect movie moments or better imprisoned on parchment; they pass, with one graceful stroke set your lyrical tongue ablaze with a thousand flavours, only to leave you forever like sand in the wind? Yeah, I get that quite a lot nowadays – and I’m quite happy about it, really.

How much more could I ask for? Well, there’s always…

If you can, take a listen to / read the lyrics of Jason Mraz’s song: You and I Both. I really like that stanza on words. (http://www.jasonmraz.com/music/lyrics.php?lid=you0a)

-----------------------------------------------

Timing is everything. Especially so in some matters.

I hate myself sometimes: must have been one of those Freak-enstein-things that escaped from Spooklville or something… My mind was engineered for brilliance, but acquired an unfortunate taste for untimely dreams and crazy thoughts. You see, I do believe in dreams, though I dare not trust them with blind fate – how much truth can there be from a series of images that take you by storm in your sleep, when all you can do is really to toss and turn? Especially not a dream at a time like this; so much was revealed to me in so little. It scared me just a little bit after I thought about what it could mean.

Beautiful? Yup, it sure was. Beautiful and white.

Shocking? Hey, I didn’t dare expect something like this. Well, not of this form at least. Aww… common…

Revealing? If I only dare to hope. Expectations can be tricky, so very tricky.

If timing is everything, then I must be a frequent client of trouble. Damn that impatience. These images left an impression on my mind, but an even deeper impression on my soul as it revealed more than just a fantasy to me.

Wasn’t it Tracy Chapman who sang about conquering someone by saying the right words and the right time? I can only hope that I can dance when it comes my turn.

-------------------------------------------------

Had a huge dose of sun, chalk and climbing after about more than a months’ absence from the scene. It feels good to be back among giants, even if you feel like a midget with a bad attitude. These events keep getting bigger and bigger every year. Climb On 05 had bigger walls and more dynamic routes than Climb On 04, and 04 had more than the year before. Frankly, I still prefer the experience that Climb On 04 provided – nothing beats a day out at the beach with a buncha friends, knowing that you’d have to stare at his ugly face as the sun baked yours, and getting a fix of chalk with a buncha international strangers. It was great.

Climb On 05, was, well, different. Perhaps this could be attributed to the fact that I was no longer an active participant. Behind the DJ console – that’s where I got my ass sun-burned for most of today. I must thank my brother for the timely arrow, for I finally had my suspicions confirmed – I DO sound like a Eurasian on the mic. Nevertheless, I tried to spin what music I could and make add a little fun via song dedications etc. It was fun, really, though a little unexpected.

Climbing had been my pre-occupation for almost 2 years now. Yet sometimes, I think I’m not really climbing. Just searching for myself among all that fiberglass and chalk. Don’t we all? Perhaps the one true time I really found myself among the rocks was in Railay, Thailand, on my pilgrimage of stone. Can’t hardly wait till the next time. In the meantime, it’s time to hit the gym again, and claim it as my home once more.

-------------------------------------------

I found myself in a quaint little bar over the last weekend. Frustrated from work and worn out by deadlines, I was only too glad to knock down a coupla beers and let loose my vocals to the roar of the live band. Ah, nothing like good old-fashioned rock-n-roll.

The very first thought that came to mind while I peered through my half-empty-third mug of beer was: where had all the cowboys gone? 57 Chevy, that’s the name of this bar. Indeed, the decorations was suitably themed to bring out a nostalgic flavour – a longing for the days of lone riders and cowboys, from gun-slingers to modern rebels-without-a-cause, there was plenty of room. No sleeze, no overt sexual connotations or skimpily-clad women, this bar reminded me of the good ol’ spaghettis, where middle-aged couples gathered to share drinks, implicit affection and unspoken romance. Ok, I shan’t overdo it. But I’m serious about the no-sleeze bit.

I saw several middle-aged couples dancing to the music. It was good – both the music and the dance. All of a sudden, my accumulated weariness of my age left me while their youth returned, both rejuvenated by the drum beats and guitar wails. The couple with me was one-half colleague and one-half colleague’s lady-friend, or so I was told. With such casual dignity, my colleague dismissed any teasing questions I had for him on our ride to the bar. They’re regulars at this place, much like the various middle-aged couples gathered here to find a little solace in some alcohol and memories.

It was then that I discovered that alcohol has a peculiar effect on me. My mind, although numbed to physical stimulations, is now more alive than ever to the communication of intuition. While this might be the beer talking, I prefer to let intoxication tingle my senses and tempt me with the poetry that runs through this place that is the bar and my soul.

Suddenly, I had the urge to write something. Something was trying to escape, desperately. What is poetry that is not shared? A monologue. And there have been so many… I only hope that these words can prolong or preserve these moments of gold – no matter how impermanent they really are. How ironic…

As I downed another mouthful of my bitter poetic remedy, I just couldn’t help but giggle to myself: here we go again.


JKLM

This Is What Another Computer Told Me...

How I sleep:


You are a peaceful sleeper. You recognize that
sleep is a necessary part of life, and
understand that there is no way for you to
fully appreciate everything around you if you
dont give yourself a break once in a while.
You are a very calm and collected person who
seems to have all of their ducks in a row, so
to speak. You enjoy life without getting
over-enthusiastic and appreciate harmony in all
things.


OMG... you never knew you never knew...

This Is What A Computer Told Me...

How others see you:


People see you as a Dreamer. You always have your
head in the clouds and long for a better place.
Dreamers are imaginative and creative and often
have a very short attention span. My
recamendation to all dreamers is to try to make
all your dreams come true! Never say Never my
dear dreamer!


JKLM

Why -- Avril Lavigne

Why, do you always do this to me?
Why, couldn't you just see through me?
How come you act like this,
Like you just don't care at all?
Do you expect me to ballet;
I was the only one to fall.

I can feel I can feel you near me
Even though you're far away.
I can feel I can feel you, baby
Why

It's not supposed to feel this way
I need you, I need you
More and more each day.
It's not supposed to hurt this way
I need you, I need you
I need you, tell me.

Are you and me still together? Tell me.
You think we can last forever? Tell me.
Why

Hey, listen to what we're not saying.
Let's play a different game from what we're playing.
Try, to look at me and really see my heart.
Do you expect me to ballet?
I'm gonna let us fall apart.

I can feel I can feel you near me
Even though you're far away.
I can feel I can feel you, baby
Why

It's not supposed to feel this way
I need you, I need you
More and more each day.
It's not supposed to hurt this way
I need you, I need you
I need you, tell me.

Are you and me still together? Tell me.
You think we can last forever? Tell me.
Why

So go and think about whatever you need to think about.
Go on and dream about whatever you need to dream about.
And come back to me when you notice how you feel.
You feel...

I can feel I can feel you near me
Even though you're far away.
I can feel I can feel you, baby
Why

It's not supposed to feel this way
I need you, I need you
More and more each day.
It's not supposed to hurt this way
I need you, I need youI need you, tell me.

Are you and me still together? Tell me.
You think we can last forever? Tell me.
Why

-----------------------------

Thank you for the music. Thank you for the silence. Thank you for the words. This is a beautiful song.

The poetry of youth -- over-rated to those who have acquired a taste for the vintage; heart-breakingly painful for those who have only begun to appreciate the noise that is the music of life. The fallacy of youth -- I run to re-capture and re-discover my child-hood these days, my attempts made almost desperate by my pace of life and a sweet bohemian poison.

Some songs you really shouldn't listen to too much. The music starts to fade and the poetry start to sing. At this point in time, I usually start to develop a twitch and begin to believe that I live in a pop-art version of Wonderland. Check out the Mad-Hatter in technicolour. Hahaha...

I really should get my ears checked -- they say that they have a direct link to the brain. Heck, I should just get that checked while I'm at it...

: )


JKLM