Yours,

till my heart runs out of words,

and my pen runs dry of ink.

Smile-to-self song[s].

The sun’s setting in the horizon beyond/I still don’t know where this song’s coming from/Breaking out in silly grins/I don’t want to whole world to see/Cause baby, it’s between you and me

 

Bob my head up and down/Tap my feet to every beat every sound/Close my eyes/Feel the wind against my face/I’m where I’m meant to be/This is the right place

 

The rain’s starting to come down hard/I’m singing in the rain and all the mud/Smiling to myself/I don’t care if the rest of world sees/‘Cause baby, this is for you and me

Bleahh.

Not having had proper sleep in a while, my body decided to not let me punish myself any longer, and so, I’ve slept through 4 alarms, woken up really late, found out that my body is aching for reasons unknown to me, my throat’s sore, nose a little stuck, and I’ve got many more words to write before the 6th of November. Whoopee. And even after getting 9hours, I’m stil tired.

 

I am only slightly, grumpy. Mmm.

 

 

Rambling.

i’d be content right now to be sitting next to you with a cuppa tea in one hand and a short story in another listen to you chatter about your day or even sit there and find out what we’ve missed out on each other’s lives and maybe even try to figure out what there could be out there even if it meant watching an empty sky that’s okay cos i’d be hearing you breath on the other side and filling the space in between with words and thoughts perhaps a little music wouldn’t hurt understanding silence seems complex enough but we’d probably figure that out somehow so a little tea and sympathy might do some good to get away from makenosense strung together paragraphs and procrastination doesn’t even seem to be a good word enough anymore oh i am just wondering how you were doing and wished that eighthundred weren’t that big a number for distance sake or tomorrow didn’t seem so far away sometimes i really am just rambling away but am thinking of

you 

Burst.

 My try at barelling. Yes, I should be doing my work indeed not fiddling around with photography. I can’t help it. Argh, I’ve missed my camera too much

 I’m about to burst with words. Bleah.

Footrests.

 I know there are times

Your dreams turn to dust

You wonder as you cry

Why it has to hurt so much

Give Me all your sadness

Someday you will know the reason why

With a child-like heart

Simply put your hope in Me

 

Take My hand and walk

Where I lead

Keep your eyes on Me alone

 Don’t you say why were the old days better

Just because you’re scared of the unknown

Take My hand and walk 

 

-The Kry, Take My Hand and Walk

 -

Michelle Tng Ying, stop post processing, procrastinating and do your work. Now.

Surrender, once again.

“obeDIEnce”

to self

 

If I had to remember anything from today’s sermon, that be it.

Fl[ ]ting.

 “The poignancy of the photograph come from looking back to a fleeting moment in a floating world. The transition-ness is what creates the sense of the sacred.”

-Allen Ginsberg, 1985

Stardust.

Caught up in betweens 

Snatched away moments

Left to rust and rot

Breathe in the falling rain

Droplets of reminisce

Mixed with tears of pain

Fall

Like

Dust

Collide 

With/without.

She sits with her knees pulled up close to her chest, closes her eyes, and wonders, if everything would be worth the while.

 

Maybe she should just keep drawing hearts in the sand.