Broken Bad Habit

and so it went
two letters encoded
and it became apparent
that all good things must come to an end,
though it may have seemed
depressingly inconceivable back then

if only i could pretend
that whatever it was,
it lacked substance
that 26 was just a number
and not a floor in some high rise tower
that in this world, labels didn’t matter
that in this life, words were not as powerful
and that soundcloud was never enough to fuel lust
if only i could pretend
for just one second
that love never caught up with us

a bad habit, some sort of opium
disguised as a saving grace
how does one escape
a bad habit, like something illicit
like the ones we used to take

i had clung to your embraces
for as long as i could
i had prayed for more lazy days
as hard as i should
and i know i shouldn’t have said “ok”
i know i shouldn’t have said okay
but i went and did it anyway

#25

i woke up today
in love and in pain
—reeling from
a dream that lasted too long
now it’s embedded
at least until something better comes along
truth is there’d already been some
that warranted my attention
but lo and behold
you found solace
within my subconscious
like it’s not enough
that you pay conjugal visits
every so often
in the recesses
of my already messed up mind

i’m sorry, cupid,
but were you high
when you shot me?
what about him?
did he prance too quickly
and you couldn’t keep up?
is that it?
frankly, it doesn’t look like there’s more to it
not even an inkling
of what’s gonna happen next
there’s no use hoping, i guess

Sapio

that’s it, I’ve had it
i’m shoving my face into the music
i’m giving in
i want in
on esoteric
conversations,
even in whispers
emotions falling in reverse
me falling head first
with all the signs,
i could have steered clear
who knew I’d end up here?
all caught up in lust
in a trance, so electric
insides, in a state of panic
ignoring a photographic memory
that’s tragic in its own right
i’m hooked on the high
from that beautiful mind
erotica,
driven by intellect
you must take me for a lunatic
but I don’t mind cause maybe I am,
maybe you are too
it’s the thought of you
at midnight
under the light of the crescent moon
that thwarts me,
to a personal hell, it leads me
why am i now attracted to you?
© 06-30-16

#23

spiralling down,
away now
from your clutch
landing on your feet
each, a miniscule touch
do you feel it?
do you feel it or does it not matter much?
does it matter much or has it never mattered enough?
each touch representing
two opposite choices
your voice breaks as you say them
which road are you taking?
are you staying?
are you leaving
this silly ecosystem?
it’s okay to be tired
it’s okay to give up
you chant yet you’re not entirely convinced
because the truth is
nothing’s ever made sense
before
let’s talk about resilience
strength that’s secretly a weakness
i’d rather have silence
than hopeful misdirection
i understand that you’re intrepid
it’s written
all over your face
my dear, you don’t belong in this godforsaken place.
©

Ruby

tempest the islands
with  your wind
and all your power
with your might,
all of nature’s debris
you will bury castles
and challenge royalties
you will bind bodies
to ropes and concrete
your waves will crush hope
the dreams of the youth
restless souls cascading
like a mansion of cards
everywhere,
there’ll be shards
of the past,
the glory days
and after everything,
cloudy
with a chance of fear

©

A Song In Progress

at a standstill,
staring out into space
never fully
grasping the world
love has opened
my eyes to stranger things
chaos and beauty
deceive me
I was never
one to keep my head dry
and above water
no, I don’t even try
I’m always saved by
sailors telling me lies
and out in the open
they leave me
but then, out in the open
it’s you I see

©

Introductory Post

First things first. My name is Maryan Dasal, and I pen poetry and music. In an attempt to save myself from going mad, I have created a blog which will contain a bunch of my works. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember but I decided to hide them from the world because they were way too personal and I don’t want people’s criticism over my thoughts and feelings. If you’re a grammar nazi or simply a condescending asshole, understand that poems are not textbook writing and imperfection is oftentimes cryptic. Might I suggest everyone to treat my words with respect. You may copy them, but please, please do credit.

At this point, that’s all you need to know about me.