Right Eye Ruby

Jordan looked at his foot and squirmed. It’s twice the size of his other foot and resembled the color of the sea. He lifted it onto the coffee table and sighed. Pola looked at Jordan’s foot and gave him a nudge on the shoulder using her cheek.

“Why bother going with us,” she asked with eyes glued to his swollen foot.
“I don’t know, I just want to I guess,” he answered.

Jordan looked at Pola. He wanted to move away from her but decided against it. His foot was painful and he liked being close to her. She’s just friendly, he argued to himself.

Jordan and Pola’s other companions were out in the greenery exploiting the vastness of the place. Some of them were goofing around while the more mature ones smoked cigarettes. The only persons left at the lobby were Jordan and Pola. The two of them were seated on a bench overlooking a vast field. Trees that formed a straight line made their view of the place more appeasing.

I like what I’m seeing. Those trees reduce the pain a lot. I like what I’m feeling. Damn, what should I say next? Act cool, smoke a cigarette. No, don’t move, she might change the position of her head. No, don’t move. Just stay still and cherish this moment. Oh god, she smells nice. Damn she smells nice! Where’s the pause button? Those bastards will come back soon, the break is almost over, where’s the damn pause butt-

Jordan’s thoughts were interrupted when Pola took his arm and embraced it.
“What exactly happened,” she asked.
“Happened with what?”
“With your foot,” she answered.
“Sprain, wrong landing,” he said.
“I know it’s a sprain,” she said derisively, “but what were you doing that caused the sprain?”

Jordan looked at her again and decided to wriggle his arm free of Pola’s embrace. He reached for the cigarettes on the coffee table.

What should I say? Something cool, something manly would do… Why the hell did I light this cigarette? I shouldn't smoke, it fucks up my training. Damn, I should stop drinking too. I blame these things for not landing right. The hell with the kid – wait, what should I say?

“Training,” he finally answered.
“Training?”
“Yup, Muay Thai.”

Pola looked at his foot and then at his face. She embraced his arm again and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Did you have a brawl or something?”
“None,” he answered.

Pola looked at his face again.
“Then what happened to your right eye?”

Jordan smiled, threw away his cigarette, and leaned his head on Pola.

Banner

Questions have filled his mind for
what seems to be an eternity
of uncertainty. Fate seemed
to toy with trivial pursuits
of the unanswerable; of himself.

A period of unrest followed
a glimpse of silence, for
when he thought he had his
answers, here comes Venus with
a new set of queries.

Queries which were supposed to
bury him in the past, to
which he answered:
"I didn't find an ounce of
virtue in our sin."

But his answer was a cold star
for their is strength. There is
meaning in his sin:
To err is to be an accomplished
man.

This now reminds him that
his humanity is in existence,
a flagpole of a mistake.

The Depth of You

The depth of everything
that's you is now
burdened and blurred
by your show of intricate
desire for honey and milk.
Your depth of the world
resonates with high notes
on every ones' expectations
and of what you perceive.
The depth of change is minute,
for you and I thought it was
significant but it's not.
The depth of your change
is nothing; it's a void,
it doesn't exist.
Your depth is only a front
for you know change
doesn't suit you.

and for that:

You will always be immersed
in dreams of diamonds
in the sky; yes, you maybe in
action but the deepness of them
is a blip. Depth is now unclear.
Whether or not you will dig is
the question your universe
is afraid to ask.

Diamonds glisten more with the luxury of love

I sit here and
ponder on things
that may never hold
true.

I pull the strands
of my heart to
keep alive what little
imagination it still owns.

I accept this solitude
because what it means
to be a man is to take and
hold back what is real and
sacrifice it to the stars.

W for You to Notice

This was written for her around two years ago.

What of the fact that
I imitate the gods
and try to speak their language
so I could emulate their
greatness?

What of the fact that
I want you to be
surprised, grief-stricken
and epileptic all at
the same time?

What about the fact
that I try to be someone
instead of a statistic?

What about if I do
these things just for
your eyes to smile and
for your soul to dance?

What about the fact
that I became a sell-out for
you to notice that I love you?