Procrastination

Right, the inaugural post. Since we're feeling too lazy to actually write anything fresh for the blog, I'll just post a poem I wrote some 3 years ago. The poem is actually pretty close to me, and is probably the best I've written, considering my limited poetry prowess. I'd want to classify it under 'Water' as it was worded to express a certain dilemma I had with my subconscious nature.

Love or lust

Help me, my love,

For these days,

The fine line between dreams and reality seems to thicken and stiffen

And at the same time, narrows and attenuates

And everything appears clear as a crystal,

And at the same time, there’s my robust imbroglio,

It kills me so,

And at the same time, it’s the fount of my boundless gratification.

So tell me, my love,

When, in the fine line between dreams and reality,

I see your eyes,

Should I love to stare at them,

Or should I lust to kiss them,

Be fast, my love,

And be slow, at the same time,

For my heart paces briskly,

And at the same time, misses a few beats.

Tell me, my love,

When, in the fine line between dreams and reality,

I see your lips,

Should I love to peck them,

Or should I lust to part them and explore what’s inside,

For if love is destined to be love,

And lust to be lust,

I se my paradise burning,

And at the same time, witness its resurrection from the ashes.

Tell me, my love,

When, in the fine line between dreams and reality,

I see your naked body,

Stripped to the last cloth,

Should I love to admire it,

Or should I lust to lick it till no part of your body remains untouched by my slaver,

Speak, my love,

And at the same time, be mute,

For if you choose to express,

You may overbear my desires,

And at the same time, may murder my inhibitions.

Tell me, my love,

When, in the fine line between dreams and reality,

I see you,

Should I love to be with you,

Or should I lust to be with you,

For it seems now,

I, without choice, have chosen to answer my riddle,

And at the same time, with choice, have contradicted my question.

I feel poisoned all over my body,

And at the same time, feel vigorous with the poison as my remedy,

For if love is pristine,

And lust the devil,

I curse the saints and the fiends,

For creating the fine line between right and wrong,

And at the same time, rave about the angels and the demons,

For creating the ravine between love and lust.

I am irate with my love,

And at the same time, am content with my lust,

For I loath my lust,

And at the same time, relish my love.

All this, as I believe,

I’m in love with my lust,

And at the same time, I lust for my love, my love.