29.APR.05

VOGUE

What is it to have class? To have elegance? Is it to be framed by dark sunglasses and rose lips formed in a sensual 'O'? Is it pivoting a slender cigerrete between your fingertips and blowing out smokes of mystique around you? Is it to sit perfectly with a thigh drapped across the other? Is this debonair? Perhaps not. Perhaps its just one of those days you felt like burning. Perhaps you just wanted to be burnt. Perhaps you're just passing eternity. See embers fritter away my soul.


28.APR.05

CANNOT

Feelings are raw. Uncooked, unmarinated, unseasoned. You cant add sugar to smother the salty taste of it. You cant defrost the bitter hardness of it. You cant decorate it with parsley to make things pretty. You cant add a spoonful of vanillia and hope to swallow it whole. You just cant. Feelings are too raw.


27.APR.05

CLOSER

Things i shall do in the near future:
1. Save up (pfft)
2. Believe in God (again)
3. Go on a holiday without adult supervision (for once)
4. Cease procrasination (uh huh)
5. Find self (again)
6. Read something intellectually-stimulating
7. Blog with integrity


25.APR.05

STUMBLE

Life's pathways are littered with stones. We look, we step. We step, we look. All precautions taken so to avoid a stumble, a lapse, a fall. But sometimes carelessness creeps into every smooth stoneless section of life, and we let ourselves take greater steps; faster steps; until you realise you're sprinting through time. And then, everything collapses: armageddon. You're hurdling through thin air; no control. Initial weightlessness to final impact. Falling hard is so easily achieved. I fell hard. I stumbled because i was careless.


24.APR.05

LOCOMOTIVE

I lack locomotive. Which way for directions?


20.APR.05

ARBITRARY

My parents have better toilet paper than me. Double standards is in full throttle.


17.APR.05

CLARITY

There's a new found stability in my life. I find my existence uniform, that is not to say that implies it to be banausic or in any way dull. It's not. Just consistent. I feel almost as if ive entered what ive always percieved to be a normal person's shoes. Albeit the occasional hiccup of drama, life is nonetheless a cruise. A slow drift into oblivion without direction, without a paddle. Indifference perhaps but not unpleasant. I suppose thats a cheap excuse for losing my flair in writing. An extract from a piece i wrote for uni, after seeing "Fight Club".

In. Out. In. Out. In. She stared at the white wash ceiling. In. In. Out. He rolled over short of breath, huffing and puffing and blew the house down. She closed her eyes, blacking the white. She exhaled something deep from within her- a sigh from the pits of her womb. It tasted stale, it tasted of sex. He turned towards her, stroking her breasts with small circles, smiling like a boy. Puppy eyes; wet and soft. She grabbed for her cigarettes, and took a deep drag. Blowing it out was the best; it was a form of internal cleansing as she blew out the grey circles of her rotting self. ‘You’re awesome’ His voice reached her through a vacuum. She smiled meekly. Yeah, whatever.

Saturday night: first Methodist Church meeting room. This is what she liked – free coffee, the stench of necrosis, the wafts of pussy infection, ars morendi- the art of dying. Marla was much possessed by death; she saw the damn skull beneath the damn skin. She was Jack’s tumour. Marla had a crop of the blackest black hair – so black it engulfed her hollow little white face. She had bloodless cheeks that sunk when she sucked on her fags. She sucked so deep and hard, you’d think her eyes would sink into that black mass resting on her head. Smudged eyeliner, slashed mascara and slurred lipstick. She needed no make up…she was a blurry existence of a copy of a copy of a copy. She was Jack’s insomnia.


14.APR.05

BURNT

Lying in bed, entangled between the sheets. Toss and turn. A silence too loud. Eyes closed, eyes open...nothing feels natural. Breathe in, breathe out...nothing is in rythem. Eventually you accept this silence, this discomfort, this artificial sense of self. Time crumbles away. I am the wax puddle still lukewarm from the flame; burnt.


6.APR.05

HYBRID

There are two types of people in this world. The ones that put their own photo on the msn picture display and the ones that dont.


2.APR.05

A TOAST

To perish, pushed into the soft plush of grass. To holler, swept away by the cacophony of the highway. To swoon, evaporated into the vast star-jammed skies. To perfection, exhaled gasps of sychonised breaths. To surrender, succumbed to the slipperage of intoxication. To eternity, a paused moment of elation. To trust, honest embraces of fidelity. To us, to you and to me. Together. To love.