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It's the 11th of this month and as far as I remember, I signed up to this site about 5 months back and haven't ever enjoyed enough luxury to pursue this passion of mine. Writing, the simplest and most convenient form of expression I know of and am in love with but still. Just cannot put mi mind to something. The last 11 days, I wish i was writing day by day it would've been closer to reality but then again I am not sure if now I would be able to say really what's been haunting mi medulla oblongata.
It was like all the burdens of my weakness was loaded on mi eyelids, havenít slept for ages now and with that multi fuck problems. EXPOSE YOURSELF TO YOUR FEARS AND THERE WILL BE NONE LEFT-FINALLY YOU'LL BE FREE. Am I free? I'm God's envy the one with the eyes stretched wide with arrogance and tiredness. Ironies, those make no sense at all. Am I scared, you bet I can deceive you without even lying but fuck it - yes I am. Words are far beyond your comprehension, I am scared that you might know what I am talking about.
She had an abortion today; I lost a part of myself with that. I always wanted a daughter, doc said, it was a daughter. Every time the nurse would extend her neck out of the glass door and call my name, partial death swept through me. I had no intentions of being a father, but it hurts to see the fetish of your childís remains. One fucking painful day, everyone has someone they can talk to but my words and expressions have become so Ďunkindí for normal ears. I see no one who understands my sinful self - My murdered daughter-
They couldnít believe that I could be so comfortably numb to the whole ordeal. I was thought of as a very nice and caring man, they couldnít understand the wilderness. Every body talks to each other and comes up with ways to disgust and disgrace me, they fail to understand I have nothing to loose. Be mine first and then threaten to leave, it sure would work out better that way. I wish I hadnít read those electronic mails sent to the lesser kind, and was the first one to know about the beautiful, innocent, now dead, but mine.
With the death of an angel the madness was provoked even louder, love doesnít come when you love someone more than you love yourself but only when you love the one more then he loves himself. I hadnít had an urge to love for such a long time, the ones demanding mi love are always threatening to leave Ė one fucking paradox Ė they are already not mine. Never were and have lost hope and even the wish that they would be. My hands are cold and this room gives me ideas some wise otherís Ė break onto to the other side.
Mi feet smell Ė I have been wearing the same pair of socks for more then two weeks now, I like these socks. At least I have a justification for mi smelling feet as I have no one for mi rotten heart. I am against having guns in the house, cuzí it give ideas and dreams that are wild and not to be pursued. His mind had developed a psychotic condition where the brain convinced itself that production of blood is unnecessary. In such a condition, he would die a slow yet painful death, slowly running outta blood but living normally.
Many kinds of human interactions, such as the ones in which death is involved and the ones with money involved and the ones with mockery of self involved. I have always been against the common notion of assigning given terms to oneís personal relationships. With every human interaction, new forms of relationships sprout and more or less complicated their presence should be acknowledged by the humans involved in that relationship. The dynamics of such humane experience can only be critically analysed once you have no strings attached to them in personal realm at that moment. Embrace your pain and then.
His skin had deteriorated and the shine was all gone, eyebrows turning white and nails also like dead bones with yellowish patches. Doc told me, he was Ďplaguedí I asked about the indecency involved in granting him death but the psycho psychologist always said that the problem is with the way he is thinking just make is snap out of it. Fucking genius, why donít you make him snap out of it? The blood ran through and travelled to the part where the density of blood was the least. Now he could feel the blood rushing inside his hollow self.
I have sacrificed a lifetime, let go of contact with this world, burned down all mi wishes, castrated everyone I adored and respected, fired everyone I owned, got mi freedom when I yearned for slavery, enlisted mi past for Congo and forgot who I was. Now that Iím left with a dual past, an incapable present, and an unrewarding future, I see no goddess and I see no princess makes me think what did I sacrifice all of it for when she wasnít gonna be here anyways. Well. Iím okay with it, all in the name of love.
Hey you! This is not the last time Iím calling out to you. I see you working your way towards a mystified life in a pursuit that might lead you to your demise. Half-matured rockstars and insufficient lies, waiting for the moment when the time is right. Narrow is the path that ants tread and wide is the ocean of melting minds, incinerated are your thoughts and despised are all your kind. Iím no less of a martyr then the ones who have died have not burned enough blood while we cried. Cherish the road to your graves not life.
Itís quite unfortunate that she had me go through this so many times, the pain of losing her that it seems childish to be sad. I really wish that she wouldíve let herself be mine and then leave but she only left taking my affection for granted. Thatís what happened all the time. I wasnít there for her, hell I wasnít and shouldnít have been cuz that was no way to tell the guy who got you in such a fuss about the fuss. I couldíve fucking tuned into the radio and the news wouldíve got through to me. Forget
I look in the mirror while you are on the phone with me, I listen to your allegations and fears and as you tell me about the scary monster I have become the mirror denies it all and I canít help but to drink and drink it all. Couple of times I tried to convince myself to convince you that you are wrong but as I always said this ainít no game of ping pong. So much influenced by Sidney fucking Sheldon you risked our fucking lives, doesnít change the fact that profanity is for weak used instead of knives
The cargo pants: brown and sliding down, they have already seen much to forget. Wearing these after a long time never had the time to wear them to say the least. How hypocritical, I listen to myself writing about cargo pants while the ultimate urge inside to only to kill. If thereís a higher power, I wish it would step in and step in now to save its loved ones from the vengeance of (as mi ex used to say) a cow. She fears God and she fears me and the red bull charging towards her angrily. Whatís the difference?
Greek gods and the sadness, Roman Empire and the madness Ė ďcan I sit here?Ē sure go ahead make the remainder of this life as hell like you can or the opposite. I know here we go again, the game of ping pong continues you would say that we should be back and everything and we would be and as once a wacko said the beat goes on. ..Anyways, I admire your courtesy and guts based on arrogance to do that over and over again. ďIf you want to the things to remain the same, some things will have to change.Ē
I have been earning a good chunk of money for the past few months and have seen no difference in everyday life. The money seems to evaporate as there are expenditures when your family has more or less disowned you apart from the emotional binds that are a part of my Asian self. Asians they say are an emotional breed by their nature and one must agree as itís true. Our decisions are primarily based on the same emotional turbulence that a woman suffers during pregnancy. A nation so tightly held by its own vices that imprison us within ourselves.
Weíve to figure to out, they say you have to define your priorities but then everyone wants to be the first. I have mi priorities laid out, and Iím mi first priority. Out of cigarettes and cash, the nicotine absence seems to have ignited the urge for hash. This is not a blog and none of this is meant to affect a kindred soul, know no one with the same passions for delight and everyone seems to be drowning in a dark spotless night. Refusal to surrender to the innate leads only to misery this was story of all inmates.
He imploded in a sudden burst of uncertainty and calm, not sure of rights and wrongs all he cared was for the Christian songs. The nights seemed to be plagued with insomnia, working like an animal to be so dried up and tired to have an attack of unconsciousness and never revive out of it. But always life came back to him, dragging him in along with the corpses of lesser mortals and undefined realms, teachers, cocksuckers and lovers and whores, melancholy of nights lost without dreaming and contemplating nothing but his exclusion from the present would give him comfort.
Hence the monotony of the days continue, with all that I have seen at such tender age forfeiting mi right to play. There is no reason to blame the capitalists but if Iím left without choices they would get the blame uncontested. Green carpet and white drapes resembled the taste of drooling apes. Nights are darker and colder, skies clearer and stars brighter. The black and the white- same. They say you can own stars, if I was a star I wouldíve registered myself to you. Grape juice and red wine, all I asked of you was to be mine.
There is creative writing class at offer but it clashes with my timetable, I've heard the teacher is not pretentious probably b'coz she is old. I have lost all power to say myself but even so if I still had, there is no hope left for me to ask what I wish for. Dwelling place of the pathtic and loners, the misunderstood and unfortunate Ė if you need directions just open the fucking zipper. Never intended to offend the weaker minds but that is not what it turns out even if you try a million times. Iím alive not feeling fine.
I hate more or less all there is, sadly all Iím left with mi despicable self. Day by day it seems the thoughts are getting more real and I might end up killing people. Starting to believe that itís no difficult for anyone leave aside myself. I have seen guns Ėfired, cleaned, assembled, reassembled and loved. After many years, I fired a shot today to get myself used to it and I couldíve very easily aimed at anyone I wished. No fear? I wish to be fearful and a certain level cowardice. I despise you, hate and all other synonyms
Every time I wake up the thoughts are always the same, wish to kill those people and most of all her. I wish for the sun to be burned out before I perform such acts of logic. It was for her I engaged myself in a hectic life, always in a hurry to accomplish something else or the other and now Iím so deep into that I canít snap out Ė she could and she did. Wonít come as a surprise if she crying while making love to another man as I think of concepts for my brotherís Advertising class assignment
Everyday the story will be the same, so monotonous and boring. Haunted by past like all others you and I scroll down like a newspaper strip. So leisurely the words slip out of your mouth like a primitive man hunts for food under his crouch, in the definite past I had wished nothing more then the desire to love inconsiderate if it was reciprocated or not but that is not how it actually took place. Like a blinking toad, she would talk in codes hiding the truth pasted on the roads. When I die, I will be free of you.
Dancing in some magical realm, she the damsel was a visual of unfathomable array or perception with one such undisputed meaning of rapture defined in her expression. She revolves around herself wearing nothing but her school skirt. Satin smiles at the raw innocence, her shadow commands the nightís darkness. Her shins shine and startle the night; the fragility of her appearance grips my senses leaving me at the mercy of her will. For a moment there, she was a goddess laying herself down for me. She bows and the satin blesses him with curse of beauty. Oneís loss of loveÖ
Sitting on the pot, with mi little branded notepad of an advertising agency I used to work for. The pages filled with ideas and concepts for a multi national telecom operators and banks. That job was less comforting than shit, jokes and sarcasm aside; excretion is one of the most comforting of human characteristics and itís unjust to compare it with a job that you do for a living. Hence proven, wasnít a bad job Ė might end up selling cheap soap and sanitary ware while shitting on the luxurious pots of some agency. My cigarette smoked out, Thanks shitpot, bye!
I kill at the protagonists in mi story; haunted by the urge to kill unsure why these thoughts keep hitting me back every time I wake up. I canít seem to snap out of it. A man is truly a slave to his mind, anything can be made to seem possible and logical only with the indefinite stirrings of oneís brain. Witty and obnoxious, I am all that is crude and unrefined Ė your raw lack of appreciation, redefined. Irrelevant thoughts and a broken heart, take me through the wild on your comfy cart, itís amazing how we all abuse art!
First time in three years, I had to lie about you and had just started feeling guilty but thanks to you, you took away mi guilt immediately. There is not a new form of stress I presently enjoy; itís been the same for a long time, which makes it harder for me to rationalize the recurring thoughts. I dreamed and thought and so to not turn into reality I shared but why they still haunt the firing guns out of me. Nothing is related inside to what I used to be. No more the pain, it was all in vain
I believe in assigning rationality to thoughts, our minds are only as powerful as it gets. The wooden scars on his skin spoke volumes about his love for God, he claimed that last night he made love to God and it was violent Ė God screamed in pain and rapture and he kept on going, God scratched him and pushed him and held him close everywhere it smelled like a blossoming rose. He tells that God was excited but couldnít take it any more and once he bled he gave away an odour of decaying mummeries. Say, do you love God?
Snap mi wrists and take away the gift of rain, as sadness lurks mi daemons laugh and give me shelter. From writing what was real, to writing fictitious accounts of the real to further writing fictitious interpretations of mi thoughts Ė guess something must be missing. The silver stripes and edible dessert, which thought this line will revert, gun powder and sepia sand, blood dripping of her sinful hands. Engines howling of broken turbines make the most wanted wines. There is nothing new about us just the same old fucked up blue bus, not to mention but I hate to curse.
Fragments of all the ideas and it seems I know lesser day by day, just like I am breaking apart under the load of mi interests. This way or that way, directions and choices that you make and take in life Ė wish I had the luxury of choices so I would be less obsessed with the compulsions. Rough nights with daemons mocking you, the widow walking and the chap talking, the coffee chair rocking, mi indifference towards her was merely shocking. The walls starting to fall, the fastest I ever saw was when you were trying to crawl. Adios love~
Smoke box in their cheap car, someone was pretending to know more than he did. Such is not a situation that I would regard as something worth mentioning. We all do it and all the time, intransigence is like a national disease commonly affects more women than men. I say, there should be sexual discrimination since the nature does it herself. We have different diseases; we have different intellectual tendencies and mental growth capabilities. Whatever! I like the discipline of this habit, but I donít think I would stick to it for long. What, where, when, why, how Ė is all
Garcia did not let me sleep last night, creating a magical realism that lasted through the night, bold, imaginary, and tender like a jasmine in the Blossoming March. I slept when the sun was half over my head, she laid herself spread over me watching my dreams and instilling thoughts of rapturous adventures and lives. The chirping birds of the North woke me up on their way home, and there she lay beside me. Such firmness of character could only be attributed to her, the night wrecked me but when I woke up the Men of Soil envied nothing more
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