Morning

Morning sliced across my eyes from the tiny slit in the curtains.

The light chased away the yesterday of my slumber. Eyes, still heavy with sleep, flutter and I turn my face away from piercing luminescence, holding on to the last dredges of precious sleep.

"Hey babyboy."

My eyes open to hers. Lips warmed with a smile, she looks at me, through me, her gaze nourishment for my soul.

Filled with such loving affection, I sigh deeply. I take in her supple, warm form next to mine, our limbs intertwined.

"Good morning, beautiful."

A poem for Roo

I sit here
Fingers poised over keypad
As I wait for heavenly inspiration to strike me asunder 
Too bad I'm a virtual atheist.

So I will dig deep
pull out my feelings
And splay them on chalky screen
A poor, yet honest, imitation.

What is a poem, love?
As told by a wise orthodontist
Your innermost thoughts made visible on paper
But that's not right is it?

A poem is to have structure and rhythm
It rises and falls
Its fluid, it flows from page to heart
My thoughts are anything but.

My grey-matter, fickle bitch that it is
Has no flow
No rhyme or reason
It erupts and slumbers

So tell me, dearest Roo
How would I write you a poem?

Would I start with how we met?
At a support group of troubled egoists
Emotionally barren souls
Looking for solace in art and their own kin?

How we fell in love?
That time stopped at night
And rang with the screams of our veritas
We confessed, truly, at 4am?

That you made me believe in soulmates?
We revelled in our mutual lactose sensitivity
Became telepaths, empaths
Teenage dirtbags?

Or how we first kissed?
The perfection that was our first date
Of elves, hobbits and cheesecake
The tiled, sanitised monument of our genesis?

How about starships and losers?
Mingling fingers and buttered corn
Backseats and hurt backs
Of peace, contentment, and home?

Would I mention beds?
Warmth, dissipating distances
Scent, sound, touch; pure synesthesia
Of lingering kisses and perpetual hugs?

Addiction?
Withdrawal, narcolepsy and zombies
The blurring of days
The torturous weekend?

Redemption?!
We filled each other, lucidity incarnate
When we held each other
How all was right with the world?

And everything in between?
Of shared passions and loves?
Of oceans of peace and home?
How you, love, are my everything and all?

Of whispered and screamed iloveyous?
Words before sleep and exclamations of awakening?
Dreams and pillows?
Of the futures we design?

I cannot put this on paper
It would result in ecological disaster
The Frenchness of my mind would not be sated
And I would not do you, us justice.

Roo
My Roo
My dearest love
I am no poet

So I will just show you

I will just be.

This title will never be long enough.

Two months! 
They'll give way to twenty, to two hundred, to two infinites!
And this lucky jay gets to spend it with the phoenix of his lucid dreams and pipe awakenings.

Funny, how release of a few chemicals in my noggin make me want to dance and jump and scream for joy.
Make me want to sleep and ride and draw and colour and make me feel alive.

I swear I was going to fill this with our exploits through time and space, past and future, but when I think of you ... There is no time.

There is only now.

There is only the ever lasting horizon of you, of us. They say horizons like they are the ending, the limit of what you see, what you think. Expand your horizons, they say. Never to look over, to imagine.

The horizon, to me, isn't an ending. Its the floodgate to EVERYTHING. A beginning, really.

Why am I talking of horizons? That was impromptu. 
I like being spontaneous.
In the here and now.
Fluid thoughts rushing and tumbling in my mind.
Past not weighing me down, future not pulling me forward.

I can skip fullstops, substitute them for commas and just keep rolling out words and phrases and don't care if they get too long.

I am rambling, dancing in my mind, humming along

This is what being in love with you is like.

Bad poems and pretentious prose.

I love being in love with you.

No backspaces.

I am so happy I found you.

No spellchecks.

I love you.

No spaces.

Iloveyou.

Cookies and Cake

It was a dark and stormy night.

Sorry, it really wasn't. I've just always wanted to write that.

It was a brisk, November evening. The air was rich with wafting scents of cheese and baking.

I walked in, cake precariously balanced, eyes scanning for literally the one person that mattered.

There! Right? Yeah must be. I need her. There are too many people here ... I just need to get closer to you ... Hi-

It wasn't you.

Okay, don't panic. She's coming. Just running late. Put the cake down before you lapse to your clumsy nature.

Wow there are a lot of girls here ... Am I the only guy who made something? Heehee that's pretty sexist isn't it Roo? Roo? Oh yeah ...

Better text. Better call. Oh, traffic? Oh okay. I'm here bae!

I'll just put the cake down on this corner table. Wow, I don't know a single person here ... Welp, time to bust out the phone and stare at the screen and avoid eye contact and omg those people are looking at me and Roo please come fast like okay I'm good.

Hmmm good ol' BBC. Economic Cameron G20 ugggh ROO!

ROO!

Roo! I'm here! I'm waving! Hey baby! You look amazing! Roo! Where are you going?! You are so far away! Come here bae!

Wait, you are messaging me ... No, its okay come over here, there's no space over there.

She's coming over. God Roo, you are so beautiful. I'm smiling at the memory of you just walking over to me.

I need to hug you. Iloveyou so much, baby. 
I can smell the cookie dough sprinkled with lavender, right now in my room.

And I'm smiling.

I love our third space. I love being with you. I love my arm around you, your arm around me. I love your hand in mine, my hand in yours, our hands intertwined in each others. I love being able to smell you, to make out each hair, to kiss your cheek, to watch your dimples wink when you smile, when you laugh, when you are so you.

You.

I'm smiling bae. Just thinking of you.

Iloveyou.

Get Busy Binging

"ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU ARE ADDICTED TO VIDEO GAMES!!"

Mom's sudden verbal barrage did snap me out of my glazed reverie with the screen, but I was absolutely unconvinced with the validity of her concerns and the accuracy of her outlandish claims.

Granted I had been playing the new Borderlands for near five hours at a stretch, but addiction to videogames? No siree.

I am addicted to consuming media.

I got off the laptop to placate the matriarch but immediately plopped down in bed, and continued my thrilling read of Hitchhiker's.

Funny enough, I apparently don't have a reading addiction.

We have become a generation of information hoarders. And this has been going on for quite a while too. Every single subsequent generation is born smarter than the last. Now babies are learning languages off youtube and racism off Fox, before they can even find their own feet.

The education system does not help in this regard either, rather it exacerbates the condition. Ever since we are little we are forced to absorb tremendous amounts of information as we are told that that is the only way to succeed. Since, everything is a competition the kid with the most information wins.

Now our brains physically have not been able to keep up with how fast our minds are expanding, absorbing. This leads to the all so common stresses and depressions of everyday life. People find that they can't relax any more, can't "turn off" because you literally cannot: you are being constantly bombarded wherever you are.

Have you noticed how slower music seems to be dying out? Nowadays all the young whippersnappers are listening to their dubsteps and electronic-houses. Music with very very high beats per bar. I theorise, with my severe lack of knowledge on the subject, that this is how the brain of today tries to relax: by consuming media on the same frequency as everything else. Hard and fast music is preferred because that is what the mind is familiar with.

So what is going to happen? I guess either our brains will eventually physically adapt to our lifestyles or we will all crash and go back to a more primitive system.

Will be interesting either way though, don't you think?