sure smells good.. like fruits and cream to die for. trees were bending to the will of wind and even in the darkest of the night he is shy when he peers only a little over the ledge of the window at her resting on the table and her breath soft.
" i dont mind spending every day.. out in the cold and in the pouring rain.." the small music box on the ledge bleats out in chokes.
as if by magic a relunctant sun got pushed into the dark of the room and illuminated everything, turning soft yogurt a tad sour and watery. he cries for he thinks he destroys everything he touches. yogurt loved him anyways, for in him she could see the best of the room and more..
stirred by bad feelings, he was crying and he was laughing it was dark. he sent her a short text and another and hoped for the best, whatever best meant. it didn't go away, paranoia and premunitions in their best, eating little bits into a worn out boy. she reassured him it was noise. ki slept in the warm words of her heart.
another sunny day in an escape, the big empty room, occupied by a big bed that took up little space, ki was collapsed into a black space of time, thinking he may not get up, technology starved escape with all its fun and gore. it was a huge mansion, facing the beautiful end of the west sea. it wasn't a hard thing to be motivated by love, he felt ready to face the world in all its glory, in spades of patches, plasters and glue. this was it, life stripped bare of its complexities, the view, the sea, the air. if only she were there with him it would be perfect but things seldom were.
the dread of idling a day away got ki to his feet, a boy who did whatever he liked, bou...
he nods fervently, for he knows the consequences of one's misadventures. a broken heart and a battered soul, it's a day to be forgotten, nothing of much significance to be happy about.
tragedy hit like a skewed baseball from a unassuming pitch and it hit kid hard. a bloodied nose, pain and a little suffocation in the chest no less. kid feels spent, something he hasn't felt for a long time and kid is humbled by his own humanity. he despises it deeply and feels willied.
life doesn't lay out a bed of thornless roses but surely it never made out to be this sobering, he thinks bitterly, as if answers will come as questions flow out of his system. he thinks about her.
there were many times to savour but she was the one who got away. she freaked and memories just fell apart like shattered glass and the sound was crisp. to trust her to steer a ship of emotions steadily is akin to asking a monkey to sing. lets put it this way there wasn't a tune she got right.
Painted white and a faux pas blue tear below his eye, Jer knew all about the show he had to put up to get fulfilled a hard day's sweat. it took half an hour to lay down the powdery foundation and another quarter to touch up on his sparkles. it was a day's shift, a ticket to his sizeable pay and he enjoyed the showy lifestyle that came with it. it was a relevation for the simple and yet wary.
*uhm* he cleared his throat but he didn't need to say much for his show which was to go in 5 mites or so said his boss. he was up to do with his fingers illusions of fancy, like balloons, heavys balls and props that sat on his cart. yes oh yes Jeremy had alot of arsenal behind creepy glistening eyes and a smile as wide as a hook. he was not a clown, he was bigger than that, a face in a face, emotionless and cold despite painted grins and loony tunes.
up next is a person we've all come to love, the enigma that is Jer the Weirdo! he strided out of the perfor...
the namesake of sweet pop indie boys and girls, jilted with songs and gimmickry. behind the make up and shadowed eyes were dark humor in his arsenal and he sang the grim and the stark on goings much like a commensurate pop song ala goosenecks. but they represented so much more underneath superficial foundations in sight.
a growing phenomenon of black kids is stark and their humor chilling. a potent mix of bland ignorance and a blatant disregard for their lives, they live everyday literally as their last, held back a little by washed up parents, and not for long. the kids had their slick dance moves and many groovy hairdos, they did their struts in profligacy, eyes and features of a dark rubbery poker face. they do because they can, it was never a must.
pretty faces and checkered minds,
they had a snort and a holier than thou mind
never one to back down from senseless battery,
a bloodied nose as valentine,
romance of a different animal
no longer lions and felines
snakes and coyotes ah...
they knew about the impending funny. he kept a rubber face, not divulging his secret wa zaa!
it was all about the showmanship. all in moments of surgical precision and prim execution.
he dropped his hat in jest and curtsy, looked at the front, saw many people eyeing his secrets. yes you deserve many compliments, sporting and rowdy, what would i do without you guys? now.. he clears his throat, all the way smiling, grins and says who of you know about the guy who willied the world? no it wasn't bernie, nor was it bush. it was elvis. he once sang about wise men and their woes, but did he mention that he sang their woes into a million bucks? he willied them, he willied me, he took our hearts away. that is one beautiful swindler and lets give a cheer to the great man. a wonderful friend in a lonesome night. they chuckled. he wasn't that fuuunny, but lets see what he continues with..
people.. people.. i know your woes. money. time. women. guys, did you ever wonder if all your troubles co...
blood was splattered but invisible for a hush hush campaign - mi3 and traces of a rabbit's foot.
he thinks himself a rabbit, blinded by bright lights, lost in a jurassic world. but he plots and schemes, evil rabbit with a crooked smile, whether tainted in chaos or polished in trade, he sets a course, struggling to contain any self pity, remorseless in almost all counts, he deserves the end of dj's saber, plus a threatrical public slagging for what he'd done. mee, a rabbit of utter intentions, ulterior in blood eyes.
searching for that feeling and you never get what you want. the grass will only be greener on the netherside and we are just the ones being ripped off.
bam! he was thrown off his feet and he fell into a bottomless hole in free fall. he beckoned himself to stop and flapped like a bird but nothing happened to the hapless boy.
so lets wait and see how the end will be like and maybe it wont be a musical chairs game. maybe its a bottomless pit like they say and we won't fall flat in our faces. as he accelerated in his fall he got cold feet. maybe its better to have doubts about the pit and be done with it and scratch the walls bloody. yes he did all he could to make their life worse and lost a few toes and fingers. Like an idiot making a scene, he scratched and fell and tumbled and teared.
when all it was, was a bottomless pit so why worry? the No offense to you and I walk kind of thing so doesnt mean anything.
things weren't always this way, the stale air of dreadedness and a prickly pinch in the chest and head. a proud walker, he took his steps in strides and walked with his head held high from store to store, thinking of the things that would make a small difference in fragile lives. in retrospect, he should have just celebrated his last days in ignorance and guilt free glee but he obviously didn't know what dutiful fate held for him and what was going to penetrate his bones and his organs and leave him helpless and decomposing in the hot summer day.
tumor. a complication in the engine. an enigma in all its glory, albeit a benign one at first. but he had to prod it. he had to see the lump in his head and poke it like a pimple. its juices of dire consequences spilled into his brain and now he was on the floor. he had finished walking from store to store, out of the shopping maze and on the lawn. he was a mess. a wreck. why did he have to be cancerous? why did things get s...