Being reminded by an isolated dream has really put me off. The fact that I could no longer run around on the paths does not necessarily means I do not feel attached to it. The only memento is a picture of a teenage girl with mismatch shoe laces. I blame the job jumping mother who would not settle for one. No, I blame the frantic bosses who would not stop pulling her into their lives.
I thought we could go back for Christmas to see our family friends, and mine, who I will not succeed in recognizing them, boo. And perhaps rekindle the broken string caused by an unfortunate wedding.
Instead, the place where my parents spent most of their teenage years is where we could spend our Christmas. Stupid trams and dangerous roads. Terrible eh?
Dream
Your chest against the window. Searching for solace in my shadow. Breathing the air from the wall. Grasping the life by your side.
If it is ever real and constant. I will let you see me. If it is ever strong without your strength. I will come in your dreams.
By every night and day I call you. To beseech for needs. Unable to calm the wind, or tame the cruelty surrounding you. To rent another seconds with thoughts on me. On no one else but me.
Though I have no place in reality. In moving picture or stale frame. No pieces to find. To try and sense.
Without you I cannot exist. Without you I can never be real.
.............................
This is one of my favourite video from one of my favourite song. It can really takes you off your mind and put you somewhere no one else can venture into. They have a Part 2 of the song and it is even more beautiful.
This kind of song made me realized how the bad image painted by others on mainly metal music, is an absolute nightmare. I rarely come across a demonic song of satanic purposes. Probably but unlikely (Stairway to Heaven for fuck sake, and you enjoy it).
Nonetheless, I wish I could go deep into my own dreams (some of it) since it is the only avenue I could explore myself without touching reality sensitivity. Perhaps I could head into the loony bin and commit to such.
Perhaps this should all be a dream.
If it is ever real and constant. I will let you see me. If it is ever strong without your strength. I will come in your dreams.
By every night and day I call you. To beseech for needs. Unable to calm the wind, or tame the cruelty surrounding you. To rent another seconds with thoughts on me. On no one else but me.
Though I have no place in reality. In moving picture or stale frame. No pieces to find. To try and sense.
Without you I cannot exist. Without you I can never be real.
.............................
This is one of my favourite video from one of my favourite song. It can really takes you off your mind and put you somewhere no one else can venture into. They have a Part 2 of the song and it is even more beautiful.
This kind of song made me realized how the bad image painted by others on mainly metal music, is an absolute nightmare. I rarely come across a demonic song of satanic purposes. Probably but unlikely (Stairway to Heaven for fuck sake, and you enjoy it).
Nonetheless, I wish I could go deep into my own dreams (some of it) since it is the only avenue I could explore myself without touching reality sensitivity. Perhaps I could head into the loony bin and commit to such.
Perhaps this should all be a dream.
Aching Faith
" Pray to God that I don't believe in "
It's a line from a song made famous by some band, whom knowingly by others, will never be identified by me.
When I listen to such line, the feelings of remorse and pity are forced out of me. I do think it's such a sad thing for anyone to not have the confidence to find God, and worse, starts turning into scientific faith. Am not much of a religious cloud myself, though I do believe there is a vital channel in which comes, finally, to the faith you're holding on.
However, when I start looking deep into my own self, I find it hard to digest on the fact, I'm one of which who divert herself out of any faith in life. For a start, I never really believe in luck, destiny and 'plan'. For me, everything that happens in life is a way of pushing the idea on how life will never be fair to you, which somehow often gets to close. It's ridiculous to think everything is tailored made to suit your circumstances, as it is only a ploy in making you feel you're an inch away from the deliverance. A ploy to coat your very emotions in separating the lines between happiness and everything else.
Faith has nothing to do with luck, destiny, plan, and anything along those trails.
And my God, has nothing to do with the faith.
It's a line from a song made famous by some band, whom knowingly by others, will never be identified by me.
When I listen to such line, the feelings of remorse and pity are forced out of me. I do think it's such a sad thing for anyone to not have the confidence to find God, and worse, starts turning into scientific faith. Am not much of a religious cloud myself, though I do believe there is a vital channel in which comes, finally, to the faith you're holding on.
However, when I start looking deep into my own self, I find it hard to digest on the fact, I'm one of which who divert herself out of any faith in life. For a start, I never really believe in luck, destiny and 'plan'. For me, everything that happens in life is a way of pushing the idea on how life will never be fair to you, which somehow often gets to close. It's ridiculous to think everything is tailored made to suit your circumstances, as it is only a ploy in making you feel you're an inch away from the deliverance. A ploy to coat your very emotions in separating the lines between happiness and everything else.
Faith has nothing to do with luck, destiny, plan, and anything along those trails.
And my God, has nothing to do with the faith.
Pavy
I'm sure it would be evident to know which I would fancy, since the other two are a bit scary to look at.
I don't really watch Vanity Lair since it started, but the re-run made me. With Pavle on, it's even harder to resist.
The show is, without a doubt, a silly concept in taking a piss on the idea of 'beautiful people'. With Ms. Chung constantly portraying as another 'beautiful' people and mentioning that every time she talks to the participants doesn't make it better.
Though, the man up there with Nick (if that is his name) are real fun to watch when mixed with the real vainholes. They actually and constantly separate themselves from the group due to the others' 'beautiful' traits. Even coined a name for the stupid kid who complains about the hair thing.
Fuck it, I watch the show because Pavle is fit. No reason for me to make justification since it's a pointless and ludicrous show and no one should ever think about joining it or make a new one out of it, or even watch it.
It's basically about a used-to-be quite interesting girl turned oh-my-gosh-I-bagged-an-indie-boy-and-I'm-cooler-and-prettier-and-a-fashion icon (I used to think she was fun but then, she proved me that all models are alike) as the host, deliberately annoying others with her 'witty' lines and at the same time narrating the days (big brother style) of the moronic beauties in the house.
The house consists of some people, a boy who became a gal who is a glamour model, men with make up and nail colours, girls with cakey make up and hideous tan and Pavle and Nick. They stay in the house and one day there'll be three new people hoping to join the sadness of the life in the house and only two will make it and somehow, the next day only one will make it and the one will remove the existing member and live another week without seeing the light of happiness or anything at all.
Confusing? Not really. I just make it appears as such so that no one will watch it, even though it's a re-run.
Hefty Dreams
'I want a huge old building and have mass rituals'
The exact words from my own self, scribbled on an old piece of paper in my school book.
Nothing really change I guess besides the fact I now understand that I do not need a huge old building to conduct rituals. In spite of the scribbled wish, I still am unable to do such, for a scarce in human anticipating for an upcoming rituals.
Have never conduct or witness any, which instigate my dream of having one.
How nice it would be to know anyone who is not mentally mental, to have a similar interest in the things I enjoy. Like reading obituaries in the morning papers.
The exact words from my own self, scribbled on an old piece of paper in my school book.
Nothing really change I guess besides the fact I now understand that I do not need a huge old building to conduct rituals. In spite of the scribbled wish, I still am unable to do such, for a scarce in human anticipating for an upcoming rituals.
Have never conduct or witness any, which instigate my dream of having one.
How nice it would be to know anyone who is not mentally mental, to have a similar interest in the things I enjoy. Like reading obituaries in the morning papers.
Pimp-ish Pot of Leppys'
Greenish-bruised sleeve
opened up wishes.
On the image
to be painted.
Oozing mockery
under few loves.
Holding hard proof
by callous breaths.
Pots of gold
for a pool of blood.
A stamp of spots
for an endless mark.
..............................
I have this greenish-bruised sleeve, as a product of an eventful incident. It is never an accessory I wish to carry, though a reminder on my existence. It has been a subject of mockery and hateful sing along, which is sad, having it coming and revolve around my household.
Regardless of the stupid manner it being appreciated, I am quite happy to have the honour of holding such, since it being said by members of strangers murmuring the coming of luck hidden under it.
I might very well be made fun of, or having names called for having it. At the very best, I know those friends who never treat it like how the features in my current episodes treat me, will be in me.
Does neon lights, jumping animals and old history part of the deal for the pimp-ish pot from leppy?
opened up wishes.
On the image
to be painted.
Oozing mockery
under few loves.
Holding hard proof
by callous breaths.
Pots of gold
for a pool of blood.
A stamp of spots
for an endless mark.
..............................
I have this greenish-bruised sleeve, as a product of an eventful incident. It is never an accessory I wish to carry, though a reminder on my existence. It has been a subject of mockery and hateful sing along, which is sad, having it coming and revolve around my household.
Regardless of the stupid manner it being appreciated, I am quite happy to have the honour of holding such, since it being said by members of strangers murmuring the coming of luck hidden under it.
I might very well be made fun of, or having names called for having it. At the very best, I know those friends who never treat it like how the features in my current episodes treat me, will be in me.
Does neon lights, jumping animals and old history part of the deal for the pimp-ish pot from leppy?
Flight On
The emergent conscience blinking upon her sight. Counting colours while clutching the head lights. She is under every troops. To keep the threads in line. She blesses the air and curses the sun. Not keeping others. Not knowing much. Witnessing creatures assigning wrath. Her channels through their hasty fights. By losing everyone in a lightning night.
..........................
It could have been faster if I flick through the channels without putting in any consideration, since I no longer enjoy the telly as much as I used to. Same issue plastered all over for me to decipher? When it concerns a bunch of annoying friends who keep telling others on the friends' secrets, there is nothing for me to analyze or even bother.
People or 'friends' are generally funny. Causing them to constantly making you feel terrible about the slightest thing in life. Like, calling you ugly because one of your eyes happens to be looking weird, and putting you down because your shoes have dirts on it.
Seriously, I don't understand why 'friends' have this urge to say nasty things about you just when you are out of the gloom. 'I got terrible result', 'Poor you, and you smell and ugly.'. There is a reason why we name them as our friends and not just random acquaintance. If you have nothing nice to tell your friends, don't bother speaking to any of them. Criticizing is on thing, mindless bashing is another.
I get it, we all say nasty things about others, but not when you are supposedly under a close ties. We should know better how the friend would feel if we say some things. Calling your friend stupid when you know he/she has been struggling with a mental issue (alzheimer)and telling others your friend is ugly when he/she is in recovery after a horrible accident (bad sun exposure).
There's a reason why we're friends you douche. I think you're a bit ugly and dumb, but did I say it to you straight?
Hence, the reason why I would not bother having another 100 friends. I know better people are not necessarily interested in having you as another shoulder and hands to keep.
Though it's funny how I keep complaining. I guess I am a douche to my own self. Self douche-ry.
..........................
It could have been faster if I flick through the channels without putting in any consideration, since I no longer enjoy the telly as much as I used to. Same issue plastered all over for me to decipher? When it concerns a bunch of annoying friends who keep telling others on the friends' secrets, there is nothing for me to analyze or even bother.
People or 'friends' are generally funny. Causing them to constantly making you feel terrible about the slightest thing in life. Like, calling you ugly because one of your eyes happens to be looking weird, and putting you down because your shoes have dirts on it.
Seriously, I don't understand why 'friends' have this urge to say nasty things about you just when you are out of the gloom. 'I got terrible result', 'Poor you, and you smell and ugly.'. There is a reason why we name them as our friends and not just random acquaintance. If you have nothing nice to tell your friends, don't bother speaking to any of them. Criticizing is on thing, mindless bashing is another.
I get it, we all say nasty things about others, but not when you are supposedly under a close ties. We should know better how the friend would feel if we say some things. Calling your friend stupid when you know he/she has been struggling with a mental issue (alzheimer)and telling others your friend is ugly when he/she is in recovery after a horrible accident (bad sun exposure).
There's a reason why we're friends you douche. I think you're a bit ugly and dumb, but did I say it to you straight?
Hence, the reason why I would not bother having another 100 friends. I know better people are not necessarily interested in having you as another shoulder and hands to keep.
Though it's funny how I keep complaining. I guess I am a douche to my own self. Self douche-ry.
Just Maybe
You are not as good as you think you are. Telling your equally stupid wife not to become like a mother of mine who you stamp as 'a divorcee with tons of boyfriends', probably open up my mind on how much of a scumbag you are.
Before I could begin,
To say such thing is as revolting as looking at you giving me advice in life.
Coming from a married piece of shit shagging any girls he get makes me nauseas.
And boy, advising your wife who parade herself with her younger man is like teaching a cow how to swim.
If you really think your money and 'knowledge' validate every statement you make, you are as pathetic as I now know you are.
I would not mind if you end up in a ditch holding plastic cup for change because frankly, you do not deserve any treatment from even a mugger, sick bastard.
I know for a fact my mother or even myself are not much of an angel, though we never turn our backs on the glass. Nonetheless, my condolences to you to not realize how much your whole money-constructed life is no better than others. If you think you are better than everyone else, do not fucking bother being with everyone else.
Next advice you should tell your wife, do not fucking come to the divorcee's house for a swim, and treat others as an excuse to not see your stupid face. Bastard.
Before I could begin,
To say such thing is as revolting as looking at you giving me advice in life.
Coming from a married piece of shit shagging any girls he get makes me nauseas.
And boy, advising your wife who parade herself with her younger man is like teaching a cow how to swim.
If you really think your money and 'knowledge' validate every statement you make, you are as pathetic as I now know you are.
I would not mind if you end up in a ditch holding plastic cup for change because frankly, you do not deserve any treatment from even a mugger, sick bastard.
I know for a fact my mother or even myself are not much of an angel, though we never turn our backs on the glass. Nonetheless, my condolences to you to not realize how much your whole money-constructed life is no better than others. If you think you are better than everyone else, do not fucking bother being with everyone else.
Next advice you should tell your wife, do not fucking come to the divorcee's house for a swim, and treat others as an excuse to not see your stupid face. Bastard.
A Scottish Mob
By now, I think people should be aware on the fact that, that fatty behind United is in or under the Scottish Mob. Maybe that sounds a bit offensive. (Rephrase) That fatty who manages United for over 20 years is in relation with the Scottish mob.
Behind the team would not justifies his 'efforts' in managing the team. Hence explaining, the reigning title and impressive records under the name of Alex Ferguson (Sir, Yes)
I know this may seem like something out of the jealousy box, but really, it is quite impossible for man to escape all the scrutiny and public bashing. How can a man command part of Manchester to be an absolute dickhead and instruct a massive attack on the people who supports The Reds.
I mean, really. Quite surprised no one has ever noticed his grim activity.
He is considerably overweight, under a lot of stress frequently, baby-ing over the concern of better club, and constantly putting the 'enemy' on his radar.
How much more can I say?
He has nothing more than an evil and wary face.
He never instigate any conversation with other managers.
Not very chatty eh?.
He assaulted the wimp and he got away with it.
No one question about it.
He murdered a young man with great potential in The Reds. Notice how we lack in young players?
Okay, perhaps I made that up but who knows.
He is an evil conniving chap, who probably has more evil under the belly than we ought to believe.
He is an ego magnified man in/under the mob.
If he is a regular fat arse, why would he worry over silly matter like Manchester City. And how did he get all the young boys to come over and stay despite his well known tantrum and ludicrous requests. We know how Wenger does it but that is a completely different spectrum in this theory.
He has got the full criteria of a mob, a cunning one. It is a wonder why none of his boys ever criticized him. People are people and they do fall under some mistakes, but Fergie, no man, he got it under cover like the bodies he has snatched.
Such a shame he will not stop moaning about Liverpool. Constantly trying to pull our blood pressure up with his silly remarks.
I could very well salute him in carrying the club victoriously. Though, that did not happen due to his unprofessional attitude towards thing.
Open your eyes people, he is a mob and we should end this despotic years under him in football. I do not have an ill feeling towards him, I just have no love for a mob like him.
If you love the game, sign up for a free trial in the investigation of the Sottish mob on www.youmustbemadtothinkiamthismad.org
May the evil runs off the pitch.
Ps: If you do believe (and have full confidence) in me, I love you. But you may have to consult a psychiatrist.
Behind the team would not justifies his 'efforts' in managing the team. Hence explaining, the reigning title and impressive records under the name of Alex Ferguson (Sir, Yes)
I know this may seem like something out of the jealousy box, but really, it is quite impossible for man to escape all the scrutiny and public bashing. How can a man command part of Manchester to be an absolute dickhead and instruct a massive attack on the people who supports The Reds.
I mean, really. Quite surprised no one has ever noticed his grim activity.
He is considerably overweight, under a lot of stress frequently, baby-ing over the concern of better club, and constantly putting the 'enemy' on his radar.
How much more can I say?
He has nothing more than an evil and wary face.
He never instigate any conversation with other managers.
Not very chatty eh?.
He assaulted the wimp and he got away with it.
No one question about it.
He murdered a young man with great potential in The Reds. Notice how we lack in young players?
Okay, perhaps I made that up but who knows.
He is an evil conniving chap, who probably has more evil under the belly than we ought to believe.
He is an ego magnified man in/under the mob.
If he is a regular fat arse, why would he worry over silly matter like Manchester City. And how did he get all the young boys to come over and stay despite his well known tantrum and ludicrous requests. We know how Wenger does it but that is a completely different spectrum in this theory.
He has got the full criteria of a mob, a cunning one. It is a wonder why none of his boys ever criticized him. People are people and they do fall under some mistakes, but Fergie, no man, he got it under cover like the bodies he has snatched.
Such a shame he will not stop moaning about Liverpool. Constantly trying to pull our blood pressure up with his silly remarks.
I could very well salute him in carrying the club victoriously. Though, that did not happen due to his unprofessional attitude towards thing.
Open your eyes people, he is a mob and we should end this despotic years under him in football. I do not have an ill feeling towards him, I just have no love for a mob like him.
If you love the game, sign up for a free trial in the investigation of the Sottish mob on www.youmustbemadtothinkiamthismad.org
May the evil runs off the pitch.
Ps: If you do believe (and have full confidence) in me, I love you. But you may have to consult a psychiatrist.
Zippora Vermillion Rose (Seven)
He was a son.
Smiling with a teary eye
Longing for the mothers' warmth.
He was a child.
Hanging from the tree garden
With eyes in shots of innocence.
He was a boy.
In spots of charms
While draping himself in his tounge.
He was a man.
Carrying a hand of trust
To search for a heart.
but he was never a love.
Wishing for breathes.
...............................
The name, can it get even more interesting. With a dash of fresh look and absence of gigantic physical measures, she is definitely one who will never force a blah from me. Funny thing is, a person from fashionspot, ought to believe she is a daughter of Zippo's owner, which quite frankly would be an irony, if she marries one.
And that is Ms Zippy Seven. I reckon she looks a bit like the Chloe girl whose last name is impossible to remember. Nonetheless, it is nice to see a girl who can carry a mile of euphemisms without looking like an arse.
Though euphemisms are not really something we should celebrate.
Having been told as being eccentric or unique or different, did not really affect me in ways it should in todays' world, considering everyone tries their very best in being the aforementioned traits. Being those would mean you are a descendent of a mad parents, or just a sad child.
Smiling with a teary eye
Longing for the mothers' warmth.
He was a child.
Hanging from the tree garden
With eyes in shots of innocence.
He was a boy.
In spots of charms
While draping himself in his tounge.
He was a man.
Carrying a hand of trust
To search for a heart.
but he was never a love.
Wishing for breathes.
...............................
The name, can it get even more interesting. With a dash of fresh look and absence of gigantic physical measures, she is definitely one who will never force a blah from me. Funny thing is, a person from fashionspot, ought to believe she is a daughter of Zippo's owner, which quite frankly would be an irony, if she marries one.
And that is Ms Zippy Seven. I reckon she looks a bit like the Chloe girl whose last name is impossible to remember. Nonetheless, it is nice to see a girl who can carry a mile of euphemisms without looking like an arse.
Though euphemisms are not really something we should celebrate.
Having been told as being eccentric or unique or different, did not really affect me in ways it should in todays' world, considering everyone tries their very best in being the aforementioned traits. Being those would mean you are a descendent of a mad parents, or just a sad child.
55 Head Ons
Shredding for numbers. Taking for joy.
Loving to lust. Longing for the lost.
The mad reading guy tells my mum he is avoiding me to dodge my inquisitive mind. Cannot really tell from which conversation, he then suddenly feels the need to avoid my questions. Though it is not a rare occasion as I had once been told, someone believe I am a person of 'risks' when in open conversations.
Which bring me to a conclusion, that people are mental and they are heading to a terrible head-haven.
Except for our M&S family friend, who sends us goodies and foodies.
We are the new pants bomber rats.
Top that weird observers.
Loving to lust. Longing for the lost.
The mad reading guy tells my mum he is avoiding me to dodge my inquisitive mind. Cannot really tell from which conversation, he then suddenly feels the need to avoid my questions. Though it is not a rare occasion as I had once been told, someone believe I am a person of 'risks' when in open conversations.
Which bring me to a conclusion, that people are mental and they are heading to a terrible head-haven.
Except for our M&S family friend, who sends us goodies and foodies.
We are the new pants bomber rats.
Top that weird observers.
Understanding Snatcher
The trouble with two is, in the agony. To pretend the air will not steal her fluency or his charm.
The trouble with two is, the exaggerated attempt. In erecting wit.
The trouble with two is, to fill the emptiness. When smiles no longer the absorbent.
The trouble with two is, it never stay true.
...............................
When asked the other day on the things I've missed, it's expected for scotch eggs and walking to be featured. Never thought those two things come hand in hand with a family friend (who never returned, due to a better job offer).
Though I have failed in compensating my past preference. My laziness and lack of care might contribute to such.
And the funky number man, reckons the minimal experience I have with men (not boys) might cause heartache. As laughable as it seems, it's not the first in handling the line. Was told, previously, I should no longer assume men as a bigger form of boys. Apparently, being 'like' one of the boys might suspend my days as an adult. Boo?
Nonetheless, the whole concept of listening to these funny observation or inner link (what ever they named it), is to have a fun laugh and maybe put a small, unintended thought.
Only 19 and they want me to worry over that philosophical mind crap. Sheesh am at the age where I consume my own energy in rambling over pavlova as a different food than baklava. Or learning. Or life in general (IN GENERAL).
Please tree of the above, send me love that will send me to the tingling noise of winnings and Mulberry. I might need it after the awful mistake created by the tedious system in modern days. Thank You, love.
The trouble with two is, the exaggerated attempt. In erecting wit.
The trouble with two is, to fill the emptiness. When smiles no longer the absorbent.
The trouble with two is, it never stay true.
...............................
When asked the other day on the things I've missed, it's expected for scotch eggs and walking to be featured. Never thought those two things come hand in hand with a family friend (who never returned, due to a better job offer).
Though I have failed in compensating my past preference. My laziness and lack of care might contribute to such.
And the funky number man, reckons the minimal experience I have with men (not boys) might cause heartache. As laughable as it seems, it's not the first in handling the line. Was told, previously, I should no longer assume men as a bigger form of boys. Apparently, being 'like' one of the boys might suspend my days as an adult. Boo?
Nonetheless, the whole concept of listening to these funny observation or inner link (what ever they named it), is to have a fun laugh and maybe put a small, unintended thought.
Only 19 and they want me to worry over that philosophical mind crap. Sheesh am at the age where I consume my own energy in rambling over pavlova as a different food than baklava. Or learning. Or life in general (IN GENERAL).
Please tree of the above, send me love that will send me to the tingling noise of winnings and Mulberry. I might need it after the awful mistake created by the tedious system in modern days. Thank You, love.
Charlieissocoollike, Twilight?
The way he chuckles reminds me of an evil friend who, apparently has an admirable power in preventing children from ruining her drawings.
Amazing.
Anyhow, its a wonder how anyone (even one who's over the age of ignorance) has an ability to keep up with the stupidity of the book. I mean, really, a 'genius lady' creates a girl character of possibility in having a funky disease (frequent seizures and bad acting), who's strange enough to fall for a monster who has hair spray fetish, and boom, best book like ever.
Really now. It could pass as a best attempt to write a fictional saga by a two years old. Which could explain the concept of, whatever it may be.
Since the lady allegedly plagiarized numbers of book, she might, out of her own lack of intelligence, plagiarized from a two years old.
Love the sensible justification of how terrible the book is, by throwing David Walliams achievements. A camper he may be, I'll invest my thought for him, which has already happen.
On a less greener side, a friend points out to me, on how horrible I look when watching any moving pictures. Apparently, I open my mouth and show my bunny teeth while putting on a smile. Fuck you non-attentive friend.
This is me chanelling them
Once I dramatically elaborate my senseless days away from home to my mother. With expectation some hug and a line of "It'll be better" deliberately end the approach. However, things never does pass the way we plan. She manifests her concern over my love for lounging in the comfort of our (her) house. Pointing on how others developed multiple and joyful relationships with the world, while I blatantly accused others in signifying their ignorance on me. It's not about me adopting an anti-social life, I despise such concept being plunged in motion, anyway.
This case constantly revolves around my lack of vision on the world.
Not that I don't care.
I just can't.
It would seems like a waste. After all those toddies years constructing a life of their own. Climbing an endless wall to nowhere. Dreams are made of lies and candies. Obstructing ways in soul searching.
Meh.
I'm not in my brightest mind anyway.
Why bother stating matters of irrelevance when you can't even stand by your thoughts.
Regardless,
I need to find ways to alter my days in this baby.
The days spent walking down the blocks, with interval of spreading false directions to similar bones. And exchanging views on the world with random strangers. Clouded with the view surrounding St George's Episcopal.
I loathe how I can no longer search faces.
This case constantly revolves around my lack of vision on the world.
Not that I don't care.
I just can't.
It would seems like a waste. After all those toddies years constructing a life of their own. Climbing an endless wall to nowhere. Dreams are made of lies and candies. Obstructing ways in soul searching.
Meh.
I'm not in my brightest mind anyway.
Why bother stating matters of irrelevance when you can't even stand by your thoughts.
Regardless,
I need to find ways to alter my days in this baby.
The days spent walking down the blocks, with interval of spreading false directions to similar bones. And exchanging views on the world with random strangers. Clouded with the view surrounding St George's Episcopal.
I loathe how I can no longer search faces.
Eny
Summon me to your limbs. From your wounded earth. Call for an expression. To search for the last. Find me in the skins. Aligning their smiles. Break every corner. And climb into walls. To get me in. Every needles in you.
................
Kaldor-Hicks boys are a bunch of sick bastards. Sweet potential over actual need. Lets try your re-birth in their shoes. It irks me just to think of the potential nodding heads to such plague. It may only seems like a concept in economics, but I just have to wonder, on the designated box created in separating their conscience and mind. Justifying a horrible act does not make it better. I may not be an inyourface philanthropist, though it never allows me in snatching a wanted hand.
With lies I have seen, posh people never really bother about the other half. Unless they were from the same dug hole. Charity IS a justification that we have the potential to care. Donating empathy to soothe our aching souls. Idiots are meant to roam as idiots, however you justify your intelligence.
................
Kaldor-Hicks boys are a bunch of sick bastards. Sweet potential over actual need. Lets try your re-birth in their shoes. It irks me just to think of the potential nodding heads to such plague. It may only seems like a concept in economics, but I just have to wonder, on the designated box created in separating their conscience and mind. Justifying a horrible act does not make it better. I may not be an inyourface philanthropist, though it never allows me in snatching a wanted hand.
With lies I have seen, posh people never really bother about the other half. Unless they were from the same dug hole. Charity IS a justification that we have the potential to care. Donating empathy to soothe our aching souls. Idiots are meant to roam as idiots, however you justify your intelligence.
Double
It's easy to be happy when you pay for your wants with your own money (and additional family loan). Finally got this piece of shit without having to borrow from my mother. Nothing beats the smell of fresh item, except when all of your money went out in a second. Good thing a family friend happens to have a three days job for me.
Guess three is the new lucky number, considering the torment I went through with the eight on my neck. Blabbering and stumbling in front of my passion.
It would a breeze to have a super power, of which you'll have no contact with dearest anxiety. And a machine to stop the rumbling attack on alarming days.
Would be easy if I just stop wishing for the back of everything.
Instant Light
The trouble of sending an instant sun is the utter chaos in a house of pride. Funny how people intensely anticipate in the race of shagging your own life. To be told off by an inexperience and rather daft child, that she has a way better and full life than my own self, is a kick to your own little bag of the thought 'no such kid will be attach to my family'. Pulling my facial muscle has not stop the idiocracy, rather constructing an even more intrusive attempt in snatching my patience. Point is, there is no point for me to accept the reasoning for such behaviour
Henry's Pill
The most difficult part in being a barely adult child, is having to fancy the younger boys.
Not that it is a preference, as this would only be a mere consultation with fate. To try an earn something to compensate my lack of reason in accepting and dive into the pool of years. By now, I should be reading books and argue on typical social concern, rather than playing cards and games.
Could have been the fact that I have always side myself to the wall. Rejecting the instant make-believe wishes while letting the teeth falling dreams seep into my thought. My childish thought.
Or the look on my face that screams 'Hi! I'm almost 20 but I look, smell, act and talk like a 14 years old. Ask me a stupid question'.
I should probably stop going to the fruit. The stupid smiles and putrid smell of tobacco do not make me feel better.
Stupid child.
Not that it is a preference, as this would only be a mere consultation with fate. To try an earn something to compensate my lack of reason in accepting and dive into the pool of years. By now, I should be reading books and argue on typical social concern, rather than playing cards and games.
Could have been the fact that I have always side myself to the wall. Rejecting the instant make-believe wishes while letting the teeth falling dreams seep into my thought. My childish thought.
Or the look on my face that screams 'Hi! I'm almost 20 but I look, smell, act and talk like a 14 years old. Ask me a stupid question'.
I should probably stop going to the fruit. The stupid smiles and putrid smell of tobacco do not make me feel better.
Stupid child.
People of People
Mine in yours, yours in mine. Every taste of the bite, every bite for the taste. Pulling gravity to rest, resting on a pulling gravity. The tongue to kill the feel, feeling the tongue to kill. Words for love, love for words. Mine for you, Yours for me.
.............
The fine picture could no longer be seen as such. With defining issues and contrast, it is fair to admit how far off we are since the beginning. I can no longer hold the frame to the lies and carrying it on still. It is too hedge off to not bother.
The continuation of lazying around powered by the maximum dose of laughter, does not give you any right or permission to undermine my being. With less number on the paper, I can put you back where you belong without doing much. You in a team does not mean you better than me.
Insolent child(s).
.............
The fine picture could no longer be seen as such. With defining issues and contrast, it is fair to admit how far off we are since the beginning. I can no longer hold the frame to the lies and carrying it on still. It is too hedge off to not bother.
The continuation of lazying around powered by the maximum dose of laughter, does not give you any right or permission to undermine my being. With less number on the paper, I can put you back where you belong without doing much. You in a team does not mean you better than me.
Insolent child(s).
Up Us
Some bones are funny, while most trace the trend. Hidden beast in an angel, triumph terror in a glass. Some lines are high, and the spoken pacing rough. Linen covered under ears, and stealing reality from the breathes. Sallow and sweet, sudden, yet no longer by side.
..............................
People are funny. Unfortunately not in a comedic performance. Too attached to modern cultures and racing ways, yet empty in the hole where fillings are the most plead.
It's a fact how everything we see corrupt our minds. We no longer learn anything by our own thoughts and efforts. Everything is drawn down for us to knock ourselves in. Manners, way of life, and, to the way we dress. No one really bothers in finding the person inside.
Ignorance is no longer the issue. It's the pride and sense of worth that do us blind. We're too cultured and hip and cool, that we do everything wrong to the nicest being we're next to. We're too pretty and intelligent and possess no body odours, and yet, we use the spoon to saccharined our fouls.
In a way, I'm glad nobody really knows me. Since I know myself too well to blend in with the light minds. Let see how far you can climb, cause baby, the land will always catch you free. Be there a name glittered on you, I can tell better with a poo carrying me.
..............................
People are funny. Unfortunately not in a comedic performance. Too attached to modern cultures and racing ways, yet empty in the hole where fillings are the most plead.
It's a fact how everything we see corrupt our minds. We no longer learn anything by our own thoughts and efforts. Everything is drawn down for us to knock ourselves in. Manners, way of life, and, to the way we dress. No one really bothers in finding the person inside.
Ignorance is no longer the issue. It's the pride and sense of worth that do us blind. We're too cultured and hip and cool, that we do everything wrong to the nicest being we're next to. We're too pretty and intelligent and possess no body odours, and yet, we use the spoon to saccharined our fouls.
In a way, I'm glad nobody really knows me. Since I know myself too well to blend in with the light minds. Let see how far you can climb, cause baby, the land will always catch you free. Be there a name glittered on you, I can tell better with a poo carrying me.
Keep Steady Beat
Miss singing the kind of shits being played all over. It's almost fun when you're with the people. Unless you're keen in singing, this may not be a preference.
A family friend had lavished me with her past items. A mustard-coloured, funny and dirty bag she had since in her twenties is now clinging on my shoulders. Beside it being bigger than myself, it fits nicely and extensively.
And the 'cool' sunnies kids are wearing these days. With rejection on such by her niece, she decided the best person to give away unwanted stuff would be me. Made sense because a thrift kiddo like me appreciates free things.
Besides, the best things in life ARE FREE.
Where's The Ginger Girl?
An anagrammatic text would either annoys the shit out of you or connect your mind to others' thoughts.
If only there's a vision goggle in reading it. I have a friend who's as keen in anagram as me, resulting various migraine in coming out with an actual message.
She reckons dreams are made up of anagrams in pictures.
I reckon we should lay off the problematic and mind-boggling things to computers. We're doom to be taken over by them anyway.
If only it would be easy to read a fine by your circles. Would've been as easy as playing with colours, and tripping over it once we come to its' grip.
If only there's a line to your door. It'll be less of everything.
If only the sky bow down to me. I would be farther, leaving every note of wishes.
IF only I could speak in you. There will be no words left to be a reminder.
If only there's a vision goggle in reading it. I have a friend who's as keen in anagram as me, resulting various migraine in coming out with an actual message.
She reckons dreams are made up of anagrams in pictures.
I reckon we should lay off the problematic and mind-boggling things to computers. We're doom to be taken over by them anyway.
If only it would be easy to read a fine by your circles. Would've been as easy as playing with colours, and tripping over it once we come to its' grip.
If only there's a line to your door. It'll be less of everything.
If only the sky bow down to me. I would be farther, leaving every note of wishes.
IF only I could speak in you. There will be no words left to be a reminder.
Arthi
Those fast eyes, chasing the end. Losing its' tip from the body. Tucking romantic lines and savour the spits. Exposing the lifeless. Echoes the bridge. Covering the lips with numb thoughts. To stage a life, to marry this bone.
..........................
The best part about looking like a 15 year old is getting away when stupid commentaries are made. The un-best part about it, is, having another 15 year old saying 'Nice to meet you' in a superior manner.
Once I turn 20 next year, I'll be 16. Hence, a disregard on money should come in again, in a bigger form.
It's almost impossible for me to watch any news channel now. CNN never cover the football properly. BBC fuck you hard. And others say things they probably don't even know of. Our news broadcaster is turning into Wikipedia. Appreciated for the wrong reason. Or no one cares in tuning in.
..........................
The best part about looking like a 15 year old is getting away when stupid commentaries are made. The un-best part about it, is, having another 15 year old saying 'Nice to meet you' in a superior manner.
Once I turn 20 next year, I'll be 16. Hence, a disregard on money should come in again, in a bigger form.
It's almost impossible for me to watch any news channel now. CNN never cover the football properly. BBC fuck you hard. And others say things they probably don't even know of. Our news broadcaster is turning into Wikipedia. Appreciated for the wrong reason. Or no one cares in tuning in.
Obbie
Snorting the present lights,
as a phase pass on by.
Illuminating trends and deep delirious thoughts,
harvest next to the collected dreams.
The neck elongated,
for a catch better tainted.
Mouthing a peripheral context,
to earn legs in the tribe.
Prayers needing substitution,
of another washed vision.
Tracing their defaults,
a mechanical faulty trials.
....................................
I like to think there is still an available rustic wooden shack waiting for me at the end of the light, reaching the edge of life.
I like to think I am not as daft, even without any interest in reading constantly.
I like to think my freckles and rashes are only the phase we all go through. Or at least I am going through.
I like to think I have my mind, still, and the girl inside is holding on.
I like to think.
as a phase pass on by.
Illuminating trends and deep delirious thoughts,
harvest next to the collected dreams.
The neck elongated,
for a catch better tainted.
Mouthing a peripheral context,
to earn legs in the tribe.
Prayers needing substitution,
of another washed vision.
Tracing their defaults,
a mechanical faulty trials.
....................................
I like to think there is still an available rustic wooden shack waiting for me at the end of the light, reaching the edge of life.
I like to think I am not as daft, even without any interest in reading constantly.
I like to think my freckles and rashes are only the phase we all go through. Or at least I am going through.
I like to think I have my mind, still, and the girl inside is holding on.
I like to think.
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