Author Archives: I'm Munition

My luck, it's lacking
My heart, it's hurting
This feeling, it's killing
My brain, it's in a drain
Your love, I must have
My hand, rough as sand
Holds yours, and my soul soars
Give me time, until the clocks chime
You'll get affection, and also attention 
Looking into those eyes, feels so nice
And your smiles, to see I would travel miles
And your personality, wow, the personality
Is a magnet, has me like fish in a net
Is a drug, it has me strung
Everything about you, makes me love you too

Why are we even together in the first place?
Because all we do is argue
But you do most of it
You shout, you curse
You scream, I hurt
I let you into my heart
I don't know why I ever did that
I don't know why you wanted in, and why you stayed
I guess the acoustics in there are great
For a banshee such as yourself
Maybe if you shout, curse, scream loud enough
You'll rupture its tender yet tough walls 
And then you can break free from it
I think that would give me peace
So, by all means, scream and curse
Yes, break my heart, turn it black
As long as you leave it to me
Maybe one day, a canary will rise
And occupy the hole you left in my heart
She'll sing sweet songs of regeneration 
And reverse the damage done by your sour voice
Maybe then, I can wear my heart on my sleeve
But until then, keep doing what you do best
You're almost at the threshold 
And I can't wait for it

The painter stares at the bleak blank canvas
Stretched and ready before him
With his left hand holding the palette 
His stubby thumb sticking out of its hole
And his right holding his first and oldest paint brush
Which he's used to create hundreds of pieces
As he smells the paints on his palette
And the oils on the paintings all around him
With the painters apron hanging on his neck
Which, in itself, is also a work of art
Because of the stray colors that found their way on it
He thinks of all the possibilities
Of what might come to life on that canvas
He has always thought himself as a tool
By which some unknown mysterious force has used
To create something on a blank space
To use the chaos of mixing colors and strokes
To bring something beautiful and marvellous to life
So, as he dabs that old paint brush
On the myriad of colored paints on the palette
With the image of what he's set out to paint
Imprinted in his mind, ready to be made
It kind of feels like prophecy to him
Because he sees what has not happened yet
As he strokes the canvas before him
With the colors of his choosing and making
As he witnesses before his very eyes
Stroke and patch of different types
Come together in chaotic harmony
He feels an overwhelming sense of awe 
He's created many prominent paintings
And he's far from done 
But there will always be that feeling in the ones to come 
He has some strange sensation whenever he paints
Like he's oscillating between controlling his body
And letting it do what it wants
He sometimes feels like he's standing behind himself
Watching his body work that brush and palette
As he watches the white of the canvas slowly disappear
As something else takes its place
His sense of time disappears as sight dominates
Yes, his thoughts are coming to life
The replica before him is uncanny
With a few alterations, it's better than he thought 
Mind and body came together 
And birthed that masterpiece
When he was done, not knowing how long it took 
He stepped back to see his work from afar
Lo, and behold, from mind to matter
He gazed upon the symphony of color on that canvas
He felt a jolt of excitement all over his body 
A feeling of satisfaction within
He could feel that if he hadn't made that painting
It would have eaten him from the inside out
Like a caged beast yearning to break free
With a stroke of paint on his cheek, he smiled 
And he said to himself,and the force that uses him
"This is what painting is all about" 

My heart is made of glass
Before you came into my life, it was all but sand
Sand, associated with deserts 
With worthlessness, with nothingness
Yet under all that scorching heat of the sun
It still remains as sand
But you came along
With a love that burns with the intensity of a million stars
Your love turned my heart from nothingness to priceless
Now, my heart is refined, transparent, valuable
But then again, it is fragile
So please, handle it with care

We're on the grass in the plains
It's almost witching hour
The sky is clearer than ever
No single cloud, only the cosmic lights
As we look up into the night sky
I shift my view to your face
I don't think you know I'm watching you
Or do you? It's hard to tell
As I look into your one eye
Pointed up into infinity
I can see the reflection of the stars
The moonlight bathes your face in radiance
Your lips, your nose, your dimples
The moon embraces them with its brilliance
As I keep staring into that immense beauty
I think to myself
The night sky, the universe itself
Cannot compare
Such beauty is a masterpiece
You deserve the stars you gaze at
And I don't know if I deserve the girl I stare at
But under the circumstances
I'll be yours, and you'll be mine
Let me be your stars, let me be your cosmos
Let me try to be your infinity
Forever and beyond

You expect love from me
When you don't give me the same
True love is conserved
What you give is what you take
Can't be created nor destroyed
Only transformed, transfused
What my love becomes
Is entirely up to you
I don't want it to turn into hate
Into envy, into regret, into depression
So take my love, give me yours
And we'll be okay till the end

There I was, on the cold tiled floor, bleeding like a burst fire hydrant. The wound was roughly one centimeter in diameter, approximately five centimeters deep. This was a standard bullet wound. The bullet entered through my left side, just under the bottom rib, and lodged itself into my lumbar region and made it home. No exit wound, so that was a problem. “I should’ve never intervened,” I thought to myself. What was I, a normal thirty year old man with no experience in hand-to-hand combat whatsoever, thinking, trying to take down a supermarket robber? I brought my fists and my foolishness to a gunfight. I must’ve watched too many movies to think it would work.

I tried jumping the masked guy from behind. And I was met with a bullet from his glock. I dropped to the floor, while the robber bolted out of the supermarket with the little the cashier gave him at gunpoint. At first, it didn’t hurt. I gave it a second, and there it was. Searing pain hijacked my abdomen. Blood was spewing from the bullet wound. I could almost feel the resistance to blood flow caused by the bullet, and the diversion of the former caused by the latter.

Everyone else in the supermarket ran to me, except some two guys who I guessed could not stand the sight of blood. The gag they had shortly after seeing my condition gave it away. The ones who came to help lay me down on my back, and placed a gigantic pack of marshmallows under my head. “Is there a doctor with us here!” one of the employees shouted as others frantically looked for any supplies they could find to help patch me up. Unfortunately, none was in the midst. Someone called 911, and others were searching on ways of handling bullet wounds on Google.

There was so much blood, and it was just three minutes. I had leaked a ton of it, and I was feeling woozy. The blood flew out of and over my body in a warm stream. I could feel the blood I had lost start to thicken in an attempt to clot. Someone managed to get a first aid kit and some cotton bundles. The cotton was pressed over the wound to suppress the bleed rate as it soaked up the crimson flow. It was getting colder and colder, because I could feel the cold floor get warmer and warmer. I was struck with a headache, and my thinking was compromised by the lack of sufficient oxygen absorbed by the brain. Every breath I took gave birth to a pulse of pain shooting through my abdomen and legs, until a time I could not feel my legs.

Some guy had cut open my shirt with a pair of scissors to expose my wound. Another guy had medical gloves on, and a scalpel and forceps in hand, ready to operate by the guidance of the internet. One of the four ladies in the store was talking to me, trying to keep me conscious. Apparently, I wasn’t going to make it to the hospital alive. They might as well have taken my cadaver to the morgue instead. They had to do something quick. As the sterilized blade was being prepped for incision, I started feeling drowsy. I couldn’t recall if they shot some sort of anaesthetic in me before the makeshift surgery. But the lady kept urging me to stay awake, so I knew that drugs didn’t cause it. My skin got pale, and my body got stiffer. I’d lost too much blood, maybe a third of my reserve. When the scalpel pierced my skin, I couldn’t feel it. Well, there went my skin sensitivity.

The drowsiness got stronger. The lady got louder. “Stay awake, you hear me? Don’t fall asleep! We almost have the bullet out!” She kept repeating this as the operation kept going. At some point in time, I didn’t know what was going on. My brain cells were dying. I saw people lurking above me, and didn’t know what to make of it. These random memories kept cascading through my mind. Ah, yes, my life was flashing before my eyes. This phenomenon was probably the brain cells ejecting their stored data before they die. One last stint in their final moments. As both past and present fleeted through my slipping mind, I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. Everything was like a dream, and it made sense because I was sleepy. So I uttered these words in submission, “I’m so sleepy. Let me sleep. Let me dream in peace. Just for a while.” Then I could hear muffled voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The voices seemed to be stretching further and further from me, until they were no more.

And so, I stopped struggling. I stopped fighting. I closed my eyes, for I wanted to sleep so much. I let go in a misplaced sense of joy, for I could now sleep in peace. And just like that…

The hurt is the testimony
That it was real for me

They say,
That show me your friends, 
And I'll show you my character
And now I say, 
Show me my flaws, 
And I'll show you my worst character

On that Thursday night
Me walking down that alley
Everything was wrong about it
The cold was embracing me
While that should've been you
Depression overwhelmed me
While that should've been you
All I could see was darkness
While that should've been you
I loved the pain 
While that should've been you
I found comfort in a beer can
While that should've been you
I kissed my sobriety goodbye
While that should've been you
I slept next to a pack of beers
While that should've been you

There, back at your place
You made love to my best friend
While that should've been me
And let me guess
You Netflix-and-chilled with him
While that should've been me
You cooked your famous lasagna for him
While that should've been me
You sang with him our favorite song
While that should've been me
He watched you fall asleep
While that should've been me

You broke my heart
Well, that shouldn't have been
You found comfort in the person I knew would be my best man at our wedding
Well, that shouldn't have been
Today, I drank my first beers
Well, that shouldn't have been
I envisioned a future with you in it
Well, that shouldn't have been
I loved you, queen
Well, that shouldn't have been

Should've guessed it 
Should've expected this queen
To want to conquest, plunder and conquer 
Then move on to the next
I thought I was your knight in shining armour
Turns out I was just the pawn on the chess board
Expendable, unimportant
This checkmate, of sorts
Shouldn't have been
Sorry, heart, I let you get broken
Sorry, soul, I let you get played
All the hurt shouldn't have been
Sorry, love, you shouldn't have been...