do we really understand the inner workings of lust? why do we feel the need to hold the mere flesh of a lady its a baffling thought. was it for warmth, or a stake in her ownership?
another random question for the ages, are we powerless to the sway of the junk of her trunk?
closed eyes and a smile across the face, he inhaled deeply and slowly, the explosion of scents in the room took him up for a short ride up to the high heavens and back down to earth. the pieces of whole flesh moved around with beady eyes, unaware of his meek presence and he took it well, probably better than the paranoia he was used to in class. he walked across the neon inspired lit room to mark his presence, make his presence felt, whatever close enough to the territorial strut lions do but he failed and looked out of place in a decor of a room that would be overwhelmed with sleaze in a movie. no such flamboyance here, though.
he eked out a stone look, tried a composed calm, but h...
Someone said that love happens when you can't sleep. a love indulgent reality beats the thought of dreams hands down and that love fuels the sparkle in the eyes. that Someone didn't know about the pitfalls of his errant judgment and he ought to be shot.
ha. he let one short and sharp laugh out again. Santa's little helper, the mischievous elf, read about many things. things like love were a folk's lore. things like good and bad. things like the power of judgments. ideals, presents Santa gave only to his most beloved companions, not to children of any age and country. those could have the superfical caffeine shot. those could have their ugly wants quenched.
a smirk in Santa came with a giggle when he struck one kid off the goodie list for being bad. the irony of it all just irks of corporate conspiracies at its finest. rubbing his hands with glee, lets corrupt more innocence.
ha! another laugh was let out somewhere far far away. no one heard it, only the sound of jig...
He conquered the bloody world. And it didn't matter. Not to him anyways.
Sephiroth laid on the ground, bloodied as all fallen men were, his midriff opened in half, his eyes wide open perhaps surprised in death, long smooth hair covering the most of his face.
Blood dipped from his fist, he seethed and breathed and didn't know what to feel.
same title, same feel, different peeps
did we miss the train?
all we had were memories, too much for my small heart to bear. contrived and sunken, he wanted to show the world that he took illusions of love, even skewed memories of vastly deluded ignorance, seriously.
the beer laid on the table. impressions matter in this shallow existence. enabling a wallowing. the ever impressionist thought of mimes, he thought about how they enclose themselves in their bare hands. people trap themselves with lies.
the beer laid there. hurt always ensue after separations, but why only do deserved aggrievences with excess drama get va...
the wounds bled and bled, the yellow embellished with ruby red and sweat. tire from antics and a front that forced a glare, he pursed meekly in bouts of dizzy spells so unlike his usual stance. He hear taunts from a distance, taunts second guessing him, ridiculous jibes that served no other purpose than to hopefully stab his heart into defeat. He snarled at the taunts, and imposed his gangly, if hunched, frame and paced around his small world that was to collapse if he were to fall.
No i mustn't fall. No, i must have dignity, he said. Even in a insidious lair he was trapped in. No i mustn't fall. he repeated in his head, his eyes looking frantically for a target to swipe at. There were none in the darkness around him, only echoes, chants, venom and it resonated with pulse, throbbing his already overwhelmed mind. a claw to his back and he was floored, the sharpest of his teeth stained with tracks of blood of his cuts and bruises. He hissed with the anger in his stomach, and then he ho...
Baby if you didn't know about the time we went together into the world, hand in hand, it just means you haven't known me yet and you should!
Dark and smooth, he oozes more than just good looks and slick moves. The sweetness that lingers is his omnipresence and his gentle persistence and girls cannot resist the smell of his abs, those undulating rock hard abs.
Slowly, he eyes the girl silently in his guise and she doesn't know. she doesn't want to acknowledge him.. not yet. he doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and he knew he was bad for her, but he didn't care. Maybe it was his indifference, maybe it was his burning passion inside, she gets drawn like flies to the flames and she took him in her hand.
i wished upon a star that you would be here when things couldn't go on any worse, and, ha, i failed in my perceptions and hopes and dreams. its okay its alright. its bullets that sting and you only give me the trigger in all mocking earnestness.
the fences rise high as they go, surrounding the compound to keep things out, and i might feel, things in. the emptiness in the compound is chilling and can hardly bear anyone sane, but it can also hold on to those who are empty inside. i feel so scared of that place and i am not scared of most things.. i used to wonder how people there can be so empty and feel so falsely good about themselves but i decided not to and endure as much as i could. whenever i couldn't, i leave the place risking slam and shrills of pained heartlessness and the prying eyes of the sulken who lurk there. i couldn't give a god's damn. i feared this place alot.
the genuine smiles i saw in their faces slowly faded to that of a sad smile, to an uncertain one and finally, a fake one which was icy cold. if i could run, i would take away, leaving them behind, and as much as i could feel ashamed that i should, i wouldn't mind. i didn't want to have them tag along, and i know they are probably too scared to tag along,...
he wasn't always this way, desperate, needy and insane. well.. maybe he was but that only adds to his weird and stupid. i do not know why he was this way, but maybe this story might help shed some light..
the boy was a playful boy, euphemism for his energetic mischief and his boundlessness. he made teachers cry and children sing, and he did more. a day at the principal's office and he was asked about his guilt and what he felt. he said, i am not guilty for i have not done anything wrong to me, i have done something wrong only in your narrow eyes, in your world and in your terms. i am only a prisoner in you.
when the teacher fumed and the principal shocked, the big fat teacher slapped him with a crackle. the principal felt that boy john doe was right but wrong, and that he sounded wiser than his stupidity, but nonetheless, adults are adults and we shouldn't be disobeyed. he made sure the boy was broken in spirit, bruised in dignity and lost in the murky waters of adulthood confusion.
i wanted to piece words that made sense as much as they made points. it was the only thing that i wanted to do that day, saturday afternoon, in the corner of my world. i am afraid of humans because they always have agendas, but words alone do not have and do not command agendas. the objective is to win, and if i were to win, i must have good letters and the other guy must be a loser. Ah the word is substance. No S :( i give up this round.
the claustrophobic guy went to the store to get himself a gun to shoot himself in the head, but he realises that he would be stuck in a rut. what if i shot myself and then saint peters lock me in a small room? ah, the word that is off my tongue is now in my world from that guy. he is no longer part of my imagination and i got the word i needed. I R O N Y. 5 points, 1 point et cetera. 36 points to win. another one in the bag, day in the shop, cliches. C L I C H E S. points and points earned are like silver wings on my chest; M E D A L.