Explosive

Your touch is electrifying. You're explosive and too capable of burning me. Like a ticking bomb you are a major hazard that should be avoided. Yet I find myself still holding on to you, completely mesmerized and taken over by curiosity. As life threatening as this is, I am intoxicated with the possible outcomes. Incredibly intrigued by your dangerously warm touch while the safe rational part of me knows I should drop it and run to safety. Away from you. But I want to make sense of this. I want to understand it. I want to understand you. And I know this can kill me. You're burning and I'm catching on to the heat. Reflex has been mysteriously fooled. I'm not letting go. I should, but I'm not. You're electric appeal expels tingly sensations on to my senses. It's coming on too strong. Once upon a time, it wasn't like this and so I probe on my indistinct glass memory. Hoping to retrace and determine how it got to this. Maybe it was a build up, it is simply too unrealistic for it to get to this point and stage so suddenly and quickly. You perplex me. It's an overdose of your electrifying touch. I'm getting dizzy and I'm feeling terrifyingly light-headed. The world is spinning, everything is vague. I'm losing control. I'm losing my consciousness. Your intricate complexity is getting to me. I feel like I've been pushed in a gigantic petrifying cyclone and it's baffling me and my vision. Everything is spinning, I'm feeling slightly faint. You're about to explode. I'm about to explode. So I take the batteries out.

Nothing

I hate nothing. Give me something. Don’t give me nothing. Because I hate nothing.

I'm good all by myself but you make me better.

The exuberant heat is intoxicating. Gradually and painfully building undesirable intensity. My crystal clear glass world filled with constant plain water stands ever so still waiting in anticipation to escape the suffocating heat. The thick glass membrane uttering fragility holds together the bored water as it loses its cool. In every tick of a second the heat takes over, smothering the world closed off by the curved walls. The terrified water is barely maintaining its temper trying to keep it together. Resisting the convincingly damaging heat knocking with complete confidence. But at some point the resistance will fail, but for now the feared fate is ignored tucked in the corner where it is less visible. As if avoiding it will make it disappear. Suddenly without a single warning there is a silent sharp pang as the heat decides to intensify and rises to show the vigorous stance. The glass and water team instantaneously realises the unforeseen urgency. And the battle begins. Both sides fight silently with all they have. The heat uses its suffocating and energetic qualities to lead the water into its deadly scorching den. Resisting and pushing back, the glass uses its barricading nature to defend the water. Saving it from being dragged off to the fatal path. But the water begins to struggle. The heat is becoming problematically unbearable. The glass shield is wearing off slowly putting its guard down with only enough strength to surrender. And so the heat is ever so close to victory. Then at the precise point where the water is at its weakest, at the perfect moment the knight in shining cold clarity suddenly arrives. Coming to the rescue. You save me. As you heroically glide into my doomed heated glass and I can feel the tingle of the contrasting contact of hot and cold. Fire and Ice. You make me better. Every ounce and drop of my water is being cooled by your icy hands that mold and transform the water. The heat in the background sighs in defeat as it stares at this incredible union. The eager ice melts into the welcoming water and they become one.

Truth

Is there absolute truth?
Do lies simply shelter it like a roof?
To the vicious point that truth is blurred?
And fantasy and reality is stirred,
But what is true?
Is it the black, white or blue?
Is it anything that is not a lie?
Will we fight for it till we die?
Or is it what we see?
But from our vision things can flee,
When our apparent vision is so sly,
How can they call it a lie?
It is not of our doing,
We're not responsible for the fooling,
Wouldn't it be a truthful lie?
Innocently wrapped in a perplexed tie,
Unable to extricate itself from the muddle,
This untitled unknown fuddles,
Is the truth hidden between the lines?
Where our perception blinds?
So the naked truth we can never see,
As it covers itself in garments of fallacy
Then we can say absolute truth is non-existent,
But then perhaps it is just mangled and bent.
Unreachable it appears aloof,
Is there really any absolute truth?