Disconnected Connection

We’re marionettes dangling from intertwining strings

Those strings sometimes collide, but never connect

I’ve tried for so long to tie us in knots

But you’ve tried for so long to untangle the mess

My strings sometimes soak in a melancholic substance

And after all these years, they’ve become withered and frail

                        Snapping when hurricanes blow and sweep connections away

Some days I withdraw my strings

            Hoping you will wonder where they went

                        But those days you find other strings

                                    And tie new knots for a stronger connection

If only my strings could withstand the hot, stormy days

            So they can connect on the cool, mild nights. 

The Hands of my Clock

Ticking time
away
Why won’t you realize
It’s best if you would
It’s time to
rationalize
That the hands of the clock
won’t tick forever
The working of my clock could be worth the endeavor
Every night I ponder
What is it that I lack?
Your absence drives my mind to wander
Don’t be gone eternally, please come
back
My clock is beginning to die
You’re losing
so much time
Lay with me and watch
time tick away
Give your life a little bit of
purpose
Avoid this deep feeling of dismay
Give my life a love surplus

Soundtrack to a Sleepless Night

Pitter, Patter 
The serenity of a storm is of a special desire 
Drip, Drip 
It's something like this that lights your soul on fire 
Crack, Clash 
The scent of fresh rain can bring back so many memories 
Boom, Rumble 
With those memories, come many discoveries 
Crackle, Roar 
On a sleepless night, it's a beauty you can't miss 
Plop, Plop 
It's perfect when you're in the mood for a special bliss 

When Will You Be Back, Dad?

The whistling of the wind squeezing through the crack of a window,
For the convenience of my father, as he flicks his ashes onto the dusty road,
Swirling around the tires, engulfing the power of the hefty tanker.
Destination,
Unknown, but does that really matter?
These several days are enough to last me until next visit.
Who knows when that will be?
Does it really matter?
All that matters is that I learn his ways, so I can be just like him,
My father.
I want to trust him, but in the silence of this refreshing ride, I realize what he has really done for me.
Days,
Months,
Waiting,
For something that could never come,
But how could I know?
As I'm left in this dome of doubt, my mother is here for me;
She's always been here for me.
If only he could be here for me.
Does it really matter?
Yes, it does.