take my breath away

many years have i thought
i will tell of another one
other than me and outside of me
but closer than the soul she
lives inside where i long to be
and i look and i look
but i cant see
because love is blind
and i think
what is this love which flies
in the face of hate
that wont let me find
or let me know
once for all if 
it really is and just so
but i understand too
that if really it lies
between us in bed and
betwixt us in arms
and works only in 
invisible charms
there will after all
be little harm done
to have not ever had
set my eyes on love
because it is most urgent
when i have my eyes closed
and she has her hands
in my pants

hahaha. mama i can shed copious tears of joy for you. 
12 years on, i have you by your balls xxx

The words they tumble forth
Rabble rousing with no hope
Forsaken is the art of idle thought
Seeking meaning when it can't be got
I'm unabashedly a pathetic sod
So forgive me if i sound rather odd

If writing this is what will get me to fill this blank space, then so be it. I've been itching to write something here but fear mixed with futility deters me. To be honest with myself (at the very least), one of my biggest fears of writing has been that it will confirm what has been acknowledged by my dearest friends-- I am dyslexic. My spellings are ummm creative, grammar pathetic and vocabulary limited. This doesn't do much for my own self-confidence, partly compensated by my rather apologetic sense of being. Ask me to write about objective, hard topics on politics, governance and i can do a pretty decent covering act. But a personal blog and all i can muster is a few garbled sentences, carelessly put together.

Anyways, something in me this year is asking me to write. Call it my inner voice or conscience but it is really quite persuasive. So here i am typing away when i actually should be working. Yes, i have been shirking work since 2008. I am essentially the kind of worker who needs a kick-in-the-butt to set the ball rolling. Who isn't? All we white-collar NGO workers have is a neutered sense of idealism (rightfully) and downsized convictions. 7 years of this life and i'm done--cynicism included. Hopefully 2015 shall see less of pent-up frustration and more of genuine ambition.

(Yay! this space is almost full. Happiness.)