this and that

you know what's tiring?
this. 
ah, but now it has become that.
now if this were that...
but then again, it is, isn't it?

if only life were signified
by something other than 
this tiresome fluidity -
or is it that?

the wishful rebel

but how would i know its time?
i see signs all around -
what signal am i waiting for?
nobody's told me the password
i never learnt the code 
(i am certain there must be one)
i stand looking at the fading horizon at dawn
and gaze at the burning crimson at nightfall
i keep turning around 
expecting a tap on my shoulder.
there has got to be one.
how else will i know, right?

i ask my heart

it is not your loss to grieve
it is not your grief to mourn
then why do you ache,
why do you feel heavy?
tell me .. i want to know.
the silent sadness of the heart
is all i get.

i am talking to you...

Stop me.
so i can go on.
Laugh at me.
so the tears arent afraid to flow.
hope for me.
so i know its the end of the road.
take me seriously.
so i can play through life.
respect me.
so i can roll in the mud.
reassure me.
so i wait for nothing anymore.
define me.
and watch me break free.