Your memories I saved.
Your memories are like fireflies trapped inside a glass jar.
That I carry with me on this dark path, for light.
To guide me on this dark moonless night.
After the sun sets, and darkness arrives.
That is when the monsters in me arise.
~Inky
My life is like my coffee.
Yours is like yours.
Mine is purely bitter.
Yours is super sweet.
~12:28 14th April 2020
~Inky
They kept on repeating the same statement over and over again,
But each time the repetition, then came a point when it lost it’s meaning.
They said, my life is mundane and colourless.
I guess it’s a matter of perspective,
I think my life has colour,
Perhaps just one colour, but it does have color.
My life is many shades of blue.
It is nights like these that trigger the writer in me.
The silence is my inspiration, the sound of nothingness is my mentor.
I listen to my heart beating and the wild horses running in my mind.
I follow those stallions into the dark woods, where they say no man should step in.
I feel as though I am not following the stallions, I am riding on one.
Soon this thought is broken by the strange feeling, as though I am in a dream.
I have become the stallion. I am untamed, wild, scared of darkness but forced to spend the night with it alone.
Because the rest of the wild horses have disappeared like scared butterflies in broad daylight.
The darkness of the night terrorizes me, I know I must run, but to where? That is unknown.
I know I must gallop away from this land, but what awaits me on the other side? I know not.
I continue, galloping into the dark woods, I feel as though the tall dark trees are looking upon me with disappoint me regret and anger.
They start to bend downwards towards me, I begin to see tired old faces forming on their trunk. I sense the disappointment and frustration is hold against me. But why me? I know not.
They keep coming closer, as if they will swallow me whole. I feel suffocated, I try to bow my head and body downwards to escape their grasp as they continue to follow me.
Soon their faces are gone, but I sense their shadows. They are still after me?
The light from the moon is not enough to dissolve the negative hallucinations in my head. I am now racing against the wind and earth.
I do not know if I am even breathing. I feel nothing. Nothing but the urge to keep going in the direction I am headed in, my heart is scared, my mind unaware, but something in me tells me I am headed in the right direction.
I do not know which part of the night has become and what remains. I am not aware of the presence of time, the only thing reminding me of the passage of time is the burning sensation that I feel within me.
You say I am like glass.
Pure, crystal clear, innocent.
You say I am like glass, that has been shaped in the best way possible.
You say I am glass, shaped by the One and Only creator.
You say I am glass, shaped by the mysteries of the past.
You say I am glass, shaped by incidents of life.
But darling, do you know what happens when glass breaks?
It becomes sharp and hurtful.
It gives pain to the ones who come close to it.
You appreciate my beauty now.
But will you be there? When I shatter to bits by the cruelness of this world, will you be there?
Will you be by my side, as I break into million bits and pieces?
Will you be by my side as I break into smithereens?
Will you pick up the broken pieces, the shattered me?
Will you pick up those pieces and put me back together gently?
Will you forget my perfect shape and clarity and pick up my intensely flawed and broken pieces?
Will you build me up again?
Darling, will you be my warrior? Will you risk getting yourself hurt because of me?
Or will you put me aside, like all the broken little things?
Or will you be the tinkerer of glass?
Will you heal me back, will you get me back into shape, will you put me together again?
Will you become a glassblower, glassmith, or gaffer for me?
Will you learn the art of making glass? Will you learn the art of remaking glass?
Then again, maybe you do know the art. Maybe you do know glass breaks.
But my concerns are here to stay and stay wide awake.
When my impeccable glass self shatters, will you be there to collect my broken flawed pieces?
jul 17 2023
Every rose has its thorns,
For every smile a frown is born.
Every step leads to a path,
Either you get success or face the wrath.
Every time you witness joy,
With it, dear, you must never toy.
For the gates of tomorrow are open wide,
chances will come to you like high tide.
The choice is yours. Go, see what you find,
If you consider yourself, one who respects time.
Will you travel back to the past,
and have your wish, fulfilled at last?
Will you race through the memory lane to the lines,
Or will you let your dark scars heal with time?
Gates of tomorrow wait for no man,
Make your decision as fast as you can.
But you must hear what I have to say my child,
You have my word, you won’t be beguiled.
Here is the thing with present and past,
In one you need to compete for space, the other is vast.
Flash floods of pain might make your way,
If in the past you wish to stay.
But if you decide to step into tomorrow,
Beware, there are chances of both, joy and sorrow.
At least the future holds some mystery,
For those who yearn to be careless and free.
INKY
The blog has been so dead. Despite myself and people reminding me to post.
So here I am, again, after ages trying to give some life to this place. (By posting a mix of old and new pieces.)
Doesn’t matter if people even see these posts or not. Because point is to revive this blog and my confidence in sharing my work with people. It is high time, I muster up the courage, try to believe in myself and just put my stuff out there. Even if no one ends up reading it. Ahahhaha. 😀 This place is like my baby and I should not ignore it (though I already have).
Inky
24th Jan 2021 (was almost about to type 2020 hehehhe 😛 )
The poisonous thoughts in her head suffocated her.
Desperate for the antidote,
Three pages later,
she was healed.
Inky
Inky
Sometimes you don’t need to hear the tale of torture that some has been gone through.
Sometimes you only need to take a glimpse of their eyes.
Because the eyes say things that cannot be verbalized.
And you my love, I know you’ve crossed oceans of melancholy and defeated storms of depression to get to where you are now.
For that I consider you a heroine.
~12:28 14th April 2020
~Inky
Accidentally Inked 
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