“It's all about you.”

November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 February 2010 March 2010 April 2010 May 2010 June 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 June 2011 July 2011 August 2011 October 2011 November 2011 January 2012 April 2012 May 2012

I have to ask how some people look at birthdays.

Yes, it's a special day for the individual. And yes, it does feel as if the world is under his feet. But is it really that important to the point where you feel neglected or disapproving of others who don't acknowledge it in time? I do admit that I'm in the wrong for the late compliments, but it's disheartening to hear that tiny hint of sarcasm in a response and not even a word of thanks.

I'm sorry, but I just have to know.


Where did I go wrong?
I lost a friend,
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.



No inspiration from the skies at all for the moment.



On the broken pieces of paper
Different faces of sky
Fosters the child of sea

In the sandalwood sunlight
The child, perspicuous squirrel of mountain
Breathing in canvas so white
Caresses its hand in a plea

The semaphore heart, truth so surreal
Mystic tapered candles of flame
Questioning instances of lie
Like benign fear of quintessential lea

The small, small ways being my prop
Taking a journey, on chimera’s top
Through whiskers of eyes, soaked in tepidity
To far, very far for a wish
A wish of Eternity

If the broken pieces could be pieced together, it would form a jigsaw puzzle, beautiful in the end.

Maybe I should have been myself and not expect so much in the first place. After all, it is us who know ourselves best.

I should dispense with all the nitpicking and accept things as they come.

I should be strong to face shit. I will be strong.