28.MAR.05

WARM

First 24 hours together; inseparable. You sleep like how a child would, a soft pout and an expression of serenity, like you're somewhere warm and safe. Baby-faced. You smelt like soap; clean and smooth. Entangled limbs, adjoined at the hips, sexy pouty honey pot belly. I was close, closer, closest next to you.
You were only a breathe away, within reach. This is what mornings should be every morning.


26.MAR.05

HALT

Ground me like an aeroplane.


26.MAR.05

HALT

Ground me like an aeroplane.


24.MAR.05

FLEETING

I have no grasp on time. I refuse to even wear a watch. Perhaps theres an unconscious fear of having limitations, for thats what time does - it limits. I suppose i'm secretly seeking for the perpetual. I am mad. Have you ever looked at photos? They hold onto something fleeting, they can grasp onto time. Photos preserve and are perpetual to a degree. Sometimes memories fail us and dissipate into other memories. Of course, memories cannot be destroyed only altered to suit one's desires, they're like peebles lying at the bottom of a rolling stream; constantly being polished and caressed till they're smooth and easier to flow over. Photos however, cannot be altered once captured. They stare back at you; almost vividly alive. Mocking, teasing, and flaunting nostaglia.

I have no grasp on time only erlebnis, snapshots of moments.


21.MAR.05

DEDICATION AS PROMISED

He stands and blocks out the sun. A mountain. Sturdy, unmovable and reliable. He bellows a laugh from deep within his stomach. A laugh that infects all around him. A great big teddy bear. He walks with ease. Strides of comfort that embraces warmth and the most palpable ardour. He listens with soft pools of earnest eyes. He exubes trust. He of all great characters stands tall and blocks out the sun. He is his own light, luminating his way. He is Moe.


15.MAR.05

COMPLACENT

Saw a movie tonight. Alone. Took up two seats. Complacent. 'Hotel Rwanda' is just the remedy to cure a love-sick heart. The movie made me hate people in general. Ate a bacon deluxe burger on a bench. Alone. I am too comfortable with myself.


12.MAR.05

ABSTRACT

Enigma
That's what you are
Sugar saturated coke
Chicken salt.


11.MAR.05

ADDICTION

An accidental fertilisation created a deep chasm of need. Always hungry; always crying; always yearning. A rudely parted mouth; always wanting to be fed. Insatiable. It was the birth of the Ego. Perhaps the agenda is too generic, that the existence of the Self; the I; and the Me has been tainted cliche. But when has it really been about the common good? It's always been and still remains to be the pursue of the personal.

They say there's motive behind every action. For me, its the Ego that underpins every motive and thus my actions are only ever self-indulgent. I am no humanitarian. I am selish. It gambles at my expense, investing itself in various conquests; ones that nourishes and ones that injures.

A deliberate delivery. Always thriving; always demanding; always unsatisfied. A growing bulge; always throbbing to be nurtured. Any attempt of neglect or ostrisization is futile, it cannot be unattended to. For the Ego is embedded within the very marrow cushions of my spine and wired extensively to all my nerves. It cannot be surgically removed nor can it be altered. It simply resides in me like a foetus. A living bundle of needs that draws the very best and the very worst from me. I am Ego's guardian, supplier and abuser. There is no escape.


8.MAR.05

SUCESSION

One more day and you break record. Something to celebrate about.

Here i am listening to Richard Merser, Mix 106.5 and fantasizing about a thick dense 'double choc' brownie. Tantalizingly erotic. I need something sweet.


4.MAR.05

SURVIVOR

Oh hail to weekends! First week of uni blissed past like drifting clouds...i am ever so complacent and ever so university-orientated. There are new codes of dress which must comply to uni standards of trendiness. There are new attitudes and social etiquettes to exhibit. There are alot of in-depth reading and organisation to execute. Uni is exactly how i anticipated; loose and barely hanging around my hips, like my pants. I should solicitate this audacity ive developed; i should get myself a shepherd or something along those lines. Discipline only wakes with the presence of pressure. Nevertheless, upon entering the higher institution of education and transition into maturity, ive put my foot down to undergo some serious transformations. Both metaphyscial and physical change was an unanimous decision which was encouraged by many close ones. This is alpha.
I'm also hoping to get published in the monthly magazine, Vertigo with March's theme as Night:

WITHOUT HIM
It was always the hovering warm ball of orange that signified the day's closure. My night light kept away Night himself -acting as a shield from the engulfing darkness where shadows merged into one big black landscape of cryptic creatures and ambiguous anatomies. (Yes, it was one of those 1000 kilowatt industrial strength flood lights.) Anyhow, I've always identified Night as a He. He was a brute; merciless and menacing. He encompassed a range of characters derived from a tender imagination; including your garden gnomes, foul-breathed beasts, demonic dolls and many other Goosebump celebs. The only salvation from Night's harm was sleep, a good 12 hours of it from 9.00pm till 9.00am the next morning. This was the distinction between Night and Day.

Then, The Inevitable: the departure of my orange-faced companion. My source of comfort was taken away and there I was, left alone to grow old in the embrace of many enenmies! I endured permanent dark circles and bags as the struggle continued; slowly one by one annihilating each creature that He so kindly dispersed. (This must indicate some form of growth and development...insanity or else adolescence)

Eventually I was victorious, I conquered childhood. I inhibited imagination. I killed Night (ie. writer has found a social life!) Time failed to exist. Days were indistinct (this tends to also happen when you're intoxicated and happy.) Night was defeated by the social pledges of parties and clubs, of long shoulder-aching hours lost in the labyrinth of msn chat, and the ever-so-frequent cramming sessions of tomorrow's assessment. And so, it was a Catch-22, Night married Day and He cheated sleep. There were times when i would look into the mirror and be confronted (even gasped) at a face all too familiar with something out of House-of-the-Dead. Sleep deprived and astray, i'd yearn for the good ol' days of night lights and solid 12 hour hibernations. I'd long for Him.
But for now, days ebb into nights as nights fall into days; inclining to fleeting weeks, months and even years. Perhaps one day He shall return to me when I am retired and utterly without bladder control.


Let me what you think, feel free to edit or make suggestions before i submit.


2.MAR.05

WRENCHING

Perhaps we all are just separate people. Ultimately alone. Who will be there when im feeling down in the pits? Who will unwring my heart when its knotted up in a ball? And who will dry the wet tracks down my face? Will you? No. I'm ultimately alone.
I know my pieces are sounding ridiculously school girl like, bouncing on emotions and steering dangerously near cliche song lyric genre. I wish i could describe how i feel as how they are. I am like today. The congestion of the gathering clouds; pressured and held up brewing a storm. Darkening skies. A chill wind. All the necessary conditions to the lead up of a downpour. But still nothing. The clouds squirm, clogging together waiting for their moment. Why wont it rain? Its suffocation.