matchstick conclusion over grave dilemma

Just when you thought you're catching up on things, with your worn-out baseball gloves, faded jeans and the whole entourage with pom-poms, everythings paces to slow motion, and so much for the suspense... you just miss the ball.
I never really liked that sport anyway infact, i am no way to be the athletic type on any league, on any blank-ball game. For me, a game is just an opportunity to shame yourself, a gamble. Nevertheless, I am aware of people who find much inclination for the morale-building hobby, shall i say, of investing on a dream watching it dissolve infront of their eyes. And at that, i'm trying to be apathetic about it.
Am i getting way irrational about this? Good.
Truth is, this isn't about games or sports. We're talking about winning and losing here.
Don't get me wrong, I grew up as a child who knew what's fun in running and carrying a flag and what's painful in stumbling and having a scab. As I look behind me, the more I realize that all these matters runs out of the playground gates on to my career, in school, in relationships, in love, in beliefs... running further.
You can't always take home the best part of the cake, sometimes you don't even get a stain of icing on your shirt.
I can tell you, patching your pocket, you have the warrant to wander off the streets and kick mud as a prologue (*life does not give up on you easily*).
The dilemma of having a big L in your forehead is to face that someone waiting by the door ready to congratulate you. Someone who believed you'd win. Someone to fail.
(*Helpless, now you can kick more mud and build a loser's castle out of it or even try to live in it as fiction as it can be*)
-I'm just suggesting though.
Each of us has a unique loser's side which should not be expressively synonymous to 'lunatic side', i hope.-
Getting back on course, you know what i figured out just now? (*without the famous bulb in my head*), that i should get something out of losing than just mud on my shoes and melancholic resentments.
I should get sleep.

Butterfly

Born upon my death

Wings flapped in recurrence,
Unleashed the colors
Generously sparkled
By nature’s wavelength

Afraid to greet the sun..
So it hid behind garden’s shadow
Until it grew tired of monotony

Forth it came to an open window
Stopping to mourn for what’s left
Lingers helplessly…

Caught...

Behind the glass frame
A lifeless beauty
Anesthetically defined
Means assumed
Colors envied

But inside her mind she’s just
An insect,
A speck
No different than the others
No mark, No memory

Who didn’t live long enough to feel belonged
-A lifecycle too short to notice.

No flowers for her funeral
No tears

Now tell me how’s life in repose?

Stardusts

How come some people be fascinated with things they know little or perhaps, nothing about? People like me.
Intoxicated with the wonder of the stars and how amazingly they are scattered across the sky, brings out the human weakness in me.
With the sky as the canopy, my head extends in infinity, my eyes sees history... Yah... and so on,so forth the blah-blahs of the romantisists and poetics.
However, I could only give a blank expression when asked about facts on astronomy. This time I have to admit my ignorance to the belief that some things are better seen than read (primary to my being a natural bum). Some things, for people like me (who wouldn't have any script for a major act if in case an alien invasion or star explosion would doom the earth!) are better accepted and appreciated the way they are rather than fussed about scientifically.
I'm just an audience, without a damn telescope (I don't even have a fuckin pair of binoculars to view the neighborhood, to begin with!), in this grand universal play and the stars are the subjects of my adoration. Stars that I viewed as my artistic escapade, not as a science research or reading assignment for chrissake!

How can something that produces so little light, for my easily deceived eyes, be so inspiring? How can something so far create an effect on right-brained dusts like me who cares for nothing but silliness?

Leave Thee Anchored

Cover this quivering innocence
let it not slide down its dwelling

A mountaineer's doom
death awaits- an abyss
black hole- not earth

Pamper this organic ball of thread
a tailor watches in oblivion

Anchor my sailor
don't let him sink thrice
don't let him go

If you kill him,
If I kill him
with a swallowed knife.

Then a glass is shattered
barefooted i stepped on it.

pain is a unique experience

Pain is more of a subjective sensory reaction. It is relative therefore, though we could feel empathy as much we could, we cannot actually share the exact burden of this stress.
How human you are could be measured by how much you need anesthetic means of coping. It is pre-requisite to love more just as what suffering is to compassion. Without pain, you wouldn't be as happy as you feel you are.

A friend once sent me a card with a message:
I've tried to put myself in your place so I could better imagine how you're feeling, so I could be more of a help. But I can't do that. Each person's pain is a unique experience...

...It was so touching because it made sense to me.

If pain is something of my own therefore no one could judge me from the miseries I am experiencing. No one could tell me that I am weak just because they went through episodes of tragedies comparable to mine. Fuck them who thinks of themselves as all-knowing!
I wrote the first part of this post 2 months ago and it was buried as a draft, unfinished. It was those times when I was really finding it hard to describe or to give a close to actual context the situation that was so hard for closed people to understand. I was in pain..that's all.. that's all I could give.

Sometimes I don't know what really scares me. Is it the thought that pain will hurt me so much or is it actually the pain that inflicts me? When we were in parasitology lab, we were ask to prick each other for our blood type or if we could, in any case, have vascular parasites. Almost all of us were white as ghost with the thought that we're gonna be pricked of course with the dreadful sight of the needle's shiny point...But we have to go through it because we should. After an instant pain, it was over!
Sometimes it's all in the mind and by thinking about it, you actually make it more difficult and painful. But there could also be times when it really is painful, but to think, it will just pass you by. Afterwards, it's renewing. It makes you a better person having gone through it. And in life, what could be the difference?

Pain no more...