Friday, 21 August 2009

to whomever it may concern

What song do you sing for the pain that refuses to go even after the song itself becomes a loop from which there is no escaping? And then there is a piece of chocolate with an almond inside it that sticks in that particular corner of your throat? Then nothing can resolve that lump, for nobody knows whether the lump is piece of chogletty nut (like yourself) or genuine unshed tears. Then it doesn't matter for the hurt is where the heart is and the wreath is where the breath is, and the breath was where the death is.

I am helpless for I am 21 and I do not know. Nobody who is 21 knows. Even if they manage to look 16 and feel 36 by peculiar tricks of light. Is your life, like mine, an optical illusion? I want to be a bit of a kaleidoscope, and bits and pieces of colour. So exciting, but I may also be like a way. You know what I mean. But thank you.

Your beautiful heart is a delicious sundae.

PS- It's not about what you think it is, I think.

Friday, 7 August 2009

X, X but not one more X

i have maistrie o'er pastry
my mother calls me "nasty"
i am hasty, you are tasty?

you're a zonkie i am a poodle
you're a cubicle, may i canoodle?
dream dahling and do not doodle.

you're a chicklet i am a chickie
you're hentai without a hickie?
sickie, sickie yo aren't you picky?

pickles, pickles, fickles, druids and sickles, death and scythe
me is a swit myth, bend to my legend, be my friend
acknowledge i'm funny, and say "hey, wise wit!"

oh my cool canoodling poodle, i be a nosy li'l noodle
we're so hottie
we're so cool
(alas poor yorick!)
modern X-tian fool.

Monday, 3 August 2009

you, not you

Sometimes I feel like a wayside beggar asking for alms except the alms are charms that nobody can conjure up at any notice whatsoever. Then you fall in love with the dreams that other people saw, oh so many nights back...centuries of nights...millennia of magic...but tell me, what more can one live for than those moments?

A few hours of stolen joy, secret happiness denied, unaccounted for... day after day...and then three minutes of paid purgatory.

Tell me that you lied. Or at least you (you, not you) are not telling the truth.

Humans need chances, and roadside dances. And lances? :(
OK I am not one for romances. Not romance, romances. Tell me. You, not you.