Ringlets Well.

What goes around comes around. I can shout, scream, tickle, fly, take a two full swing and shout goodbye to all of ever and of every and of evermore, be it forevermore. A cupid in the air arrowing his arrow towards whom he finds suited for the other. An innocent baby face, baby winged cupid flying in a club. Who would have thought it true? Then them cyber cupids with electronic cursors blasting the vacuumed air of cyber love. But shh, the name spoken to soon. Of singular asses and triple swings ending a one. Beautiful he is. She denies but he is. Now who's who and which's which! I'm then, again, on this edged brim. Intentionally made for coincidental chance. To fall and submerge inwards or to fall out towards freedom. The water rises high, flowing through it's legs, eyes, and it's hard exterior. The crab lies awake scuttling the soft beaded beach with no cares of the world or what lays ahead (aside, in this case). Then wham! Smack right into a bulky figure. Wise crab gave multiple thoughts with it's many legs; pincering the surrounding air as though in attempt to catch fluttering fishy ideas. Bulky figure held the crab. Ares, it's name. The Ram. A mad inter-species bond, yet uncommon. Ram of the sixth, and crab of the ninth, the one ruled strongly by moons and of the heavens. Far above the cliff smiles cupid, blowing the edge curve of his bow as though the assassination of unsuspected hearts was just an affair taken place one too many times. The wicked  schemes of angels, cupids, taking place. What was. What now. What then. Be ridden on the cornering beach expecting a million and one fortune of each other. What should be feared most is the path they now lead. The water dwelling shelled emotion and the fiery ruthless beast will have to watch the seasons to come. Fogs, come then now and here where the combined is depressingly sad. So be it. The crab scuttles a choice now, stay or stay no more.

Differing Them.

I can't:

I can:

-eat for my appetite is replaced with a different sort of hunger

-eat for my hunger for you is never satisfied

-drink for my thirst cannot be quenched by the physical

-drink for my throat longs your ocean sized affection

-dance for my feet had been chained by desires

-dance for my feet screams my fondness of you

-talk for my words reflect my emotions

-talk for my mouth craves your present

-sing for the pain of others become mine to share

-sing for that is how you know my heart

-breathe for my only source of air is one that comes from you

-breathe forever wanting to be with you

Yellow Burnt Crunch.

I being who I thought I should be of what others think of me. It means unknowingly being transformed by subtle signs of nature. They call this the dirty trick of the universe. A touch causing a rippling wave to all historical senses. Now to questions of desires; what is most that shall be wanted for the coming year? A resolution that would take on to completion or to fail in shame. I have a few plans shortlisted in order to achieve contentment or selfish happiness. Most of which includes a playful charm to viewers. Now back to the question on feelings shared with another. A touch so tender electrifies the body in some ecstatic pleasure. A flicker of tongue in the earlobe causes roaring splitting images of war-induced bees and birds with the symphony of lions by the river bed. This is very much a topic that would raise brows, be it left or right but it's a matter of factual truth. What the body yearns, let it be given with responsibilities attached. The difference between what is given and had been taken away is hard to differ though by it's nature, it's plainly obvious. Given is, that is willingly performed: executed: pronounced, yet taken is much of the mentioned but with a negative feel. Field. To bask in all glory of open aired success, triumphant with the mood of freedom. A habitat worth spending the remaining of breaths. Yet, a life without love is a life without living. I would certainly want to live.

Perhaps, Pattern.

After the necessary check of imagined possibilities and temptations that can possibly ignite from the dream of this all, it comes the time where that slightly unnecessary old hand grip on my shoulder tightens and reminds me that Depression never really did leave me; stooping low enough to mock my discomfort of everything that can be felt. This is what happens when much is being felt and less is being rationalized. When the balance of how balance should be is flipped randomly allowing the variety of damned chances to occur. That's my life. A crazy flipping chance that requires no more than a pop of this and that to allow the mind state to come to a halting rest. It would be peaceful. A release from the chains of a pattern or from the patterns of a chain. I wish I knew which is worse. Perhaps, to my confinement once more shall I retreat, alone. Or maybe, with an unwilling you. I back away cowardly, embracing the acceptance of disappointment being part of the air. We simply breathe it every second. No reason to deny the existence of my corrupted optimistic-fake public self. This shows well clear that I'm not who I am on the outside. When inverted, there will be a gap low and deep enough to let all misery loose.

When I Was Young.

I never needed anyone. So said Celine Dion. But in a way it really is very true. That feeling of perfect dependent upon your own self for the sole existence of being. Parents come in a part as the providers, carers and also comforters. But since the existence of time, humankind; people have been nothing but individuals. We and Us are merely illusions of unity that doesn't really exist. If so is the fact, what is the greatness of relationships? How can two souls be broken of their wholeness to allow the separation of each to become a new whole in completion. I don't understand yet I crave the affection given by that of a lover. The affection both mentally and perhaps, physically. Nothing comes close to it. Not even the best chocolates or deep fried foods dipped with cheese sauce. Somehow, this void has a mysterious sense to it. Of where it comes from and how it did develop. The fact that, once the pieces are done and pierced through the skin and flesh, the emotion eating disease will fill all that can be filled and will corrupt the entity of the entire self. This is love, and romance as famously known it can be. Stories are continuously being told and I long it's presence to my living once more. I can hear the doors being knocked as she is courteously paying me a visit. However, I'm contemplating on the possibilities of allowing the spectacular entrance. So, to this point, I just like you. Unimaginably.

Delightful Mixture.

Mama once told me to do what my heart says it's right. Heart says many things which is not to my liking, yet some to my loving. There is no in-between when it comes to the heart. It's either full out, or so in. So I venture in the mixture of this delicacy. A collection of blurred reasoning, scripted speeches and plain drama. All with the intention to rebel. This mixture, it doesn't froth and bubble like a burning cauldron, nor does it contain any essence of despicable body parts. It is simply, to put it in the simplest most graphically illusion-possible way, earth returning from the earth. It is like when you scoop a fistful of air out of the atmosphere, and swallow it down. You don't see any of it, but it happened. It happened because there was believe. I'm me because I am believing, in fact, I even lived. It comes down to this then; the creation returning to what was previously created. The earth flowing back to itself, willingly. The transfer of collected memories from the soul to the nothing. As nothing was the beginning, so shall the end be nothing. Whatever happened in the moment of 'through' doesn't really count, for the end is all that counts. The end of collected droplets of hidden pleasure, open joy and translucent dreams. Perhaps one may think, when will delight be in this picture? Experiencing delight is a choice. I chose mine, as we chose ours, as the earth chose the earth's. It is yet, the mixture that matters. Where will emotions be? Hiding in some hole in the brain, some hole in the heart. Hiding to avoid partaking in this hideously beautiful act. Act 1, Fin.

A Change.

I'm thinking of changing my name. I know a name isn't something one should get tired of, but truly I wish to be known as something else. I have the idea of ridding my unpleasant Chinese names (except my surname of course) and bringing in two love choices of names I adore ever so much. I won't reveal it just yet in case anyone thought of the want to be in knowing. Let's see how procedures work with the government. I don't even know whether I'd be up for the waiting, yet alone whether it is allowed at all, but I truly hope this change would come to past. Moving on, what's with the idea of Christmas coming by close and I'm getting excited of the little gathering that is currently being planned. I so would want to take a break from life and get a living out of with another. Rechercher des cœurs des princes. I want to open  presents which would reveal the future. Even if they come in the form of chicken bones I'd be most appreciative. The sadness of the world feels heavy right now on my eyelids. Sadness of the world being the truth of what we try not to/cannot see in our everyday lives. I see them sometimes, not as seldom as rainbows, but like the rain. Every now and then, it just pours down. We're like cups aren't we? So imagine walking cups collecting sad-water dropping from the heavens as they walk. Moving, moving on.

Hunger In Replace.

I'm hungry now. Meaning that my appetite is back. Passing mood swings of cornered sensitivity. Soaring ever so slightly above the ground. With the clock ticking fast, events move at a quicker pace. I fear that singular adverb. I keep saying the lack of my knowing twice times many, inclusive. Where the oceans are, so will my soul be. A running fluid never made for stillness. Movement is the key. Be it emotions or physical self. Imaginative of life possibly led. Brings haunting memories of a life once led. Leaves no space of present Time to linger. Tables and turning, and the meal is set.

Eject Button Let One Flee.

Confidence begins with 'so what if?'. I don't know how to say it. I can, but if it doesn't mean anything then it means nothing at all. Here I begin; that circling hawk still circles above me waiting for each moment to strike. Each moment is of every second I'm without the support of my emotional legs. So that was the wind, and here is the me swayed off and brought to a cliff. If the beauty can be pictured, it would be extraordinary. Colors of the wind, she calls it. Brought to a cliff where love is found in the form of a wolf. Howling, she howls throughout the picturesque scenery of the moon behind the cliff. What's even more of a better sight is her heart. Each howl heals her heart. She cannot contain her hurt, her happiness, her soul, her all. She has to scream and howl to release it back all to the world. She isn't strong to handle it alone. I am the cliff. I am allowing her to speak above my own authority. Which is the only reason why she has such a huge influence over me. I am the cliff. The running stream is my runny soul which seeps through my eyes. Have you ever witness a cliff shape-shifting into a bird? That's all this cliff wants to do. To run above himself from a created soul beneath the grounds of the earth. To sprint to the edge of himself, pass her howls, and to leap with no fear for the wind always favor birds. I'll then be lifted off far past the darkness above the clouds to a whole new meaning of beauty and freedom. I'll never have to see what I do not wish to see, the fixations of a cliff. I'll see new. I'll BE new. I'll be me. I'll feel once more. I'll flee.

Flight Attendant.

"When will my right shoulder be dusted of gold glitter?

When will shiny red stars be upon my head?

When will I slide down the rainbow's end?

When oh when will this ship take sail?

My patience can't wait no more!

Let it be now," I cry.

Such prettiness.

A Dream - Out and Under.

At the beach with mum on hilly green island - Went to toilet - Hiked - Aunt and her humble brother with two of his children stood by (the eldest and the youngest) - He lectured me as she held on to me, praying on my assumption - He boasted his earnings with ten kilo in his wallet as advised by me not to visit my neighborhood - Saw a guy running to the abandoned building chased by her and her behind him who boasts - Hiked of partial succession of much delighted Indian - Mum stood by observing in her batik nightie like an all knowing fog - Hiked - Absolute perfection of foreign text messages but lost of means - Hiked - A familiar face once rode above elevators - Meeting a kiss of suited pleasure, non-familiar whatsoever - Hit of awareness - Spies of 3 with walkie-talkie built in sleeves arise known danger - Flash images of recorded perversion made in perfect coordination and morbidness of utter succulency - Ran above the abandoned building and saw suited celebrities (Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan) with champagne glasses of assorted cherries on the table, the other smashed on the ground - Ate a red cherry and of spoken humor - Laughter.

Somewhere in between or towards the end: Rode in a convertible beside driving Jay Hernandez and Negro girl at the back - Played with the roof - Big black car in front of us spun in a perfect ninety degree turn towards the right - A Negro guy with dreadlocks came out of it's sliding door and approached us - We wound windows - Negro guy had a fancy futuristic gun with a searching red laser - He shot me but there was no pain and no mark as I lifted my shirt to check my right sided chest, spy tricks on my assumption - Negro guy wanted to shoot Negro girl but she cursed him in Tamil much to his and our surprise - He left.

Well, Then There's You.

Alone; I walked and I walked. Under the rain, by stores, by people, by the strangling atmosphere of expectations and denial. It's difficult this life is. As was written well by her, we take up space on this earth. I feel I take much less space than others though. I just feel that way and it's unexplainable. I cannot understand existence, and destiny and how I wish I could match the dots of all these difficult-in understanding words. I owned the path. I walked with myself walking ahead first. I followed me and this had caused a strange sense of confidence knowing you're hidden behind yourself and nobody get's to see you yet say anything but they can, except it won't reach you. Only when I stepped in front did everything change. Voices with matching stares were all over and I was once more center stage of the proceeding trial of being everything but worldly. I'm trying I tell in my defense! But the jury has a thing against me. I noticed this. It's been awhile and I don't get why they feel that way about me but they certainly do. So this happens before the mirror of truth. In fact, all mirrors are of truth. Except I've seen one once in a restaurant where it makes reflected images smaller than they really are. BANG. I'm sentenced to a lifelong punishment of la dépression. Dead end on the left, and on the right. I go straight but the road never ends. I can't turn back or I'd get lost. I can choose to sit or stand here but that requires more guts and I'm not quite ready for that yet. Open the doors, open all of it. I would like the chance to choose my practice, my entrée. Note to self, choices are never really ours. They belong to the world, from the point of creation because everything is touched. It's the ripple effect. We make up what was made up in the beginning. I just know it but it's best if such things are left unsaid. Now as for the title, it's bothering me. She. You. All the same. Just one big happy sadistic family with me playing victim. Girl you're right right now, and I just want to be what you want to be; happy.

Then I Thought.

"To : Them Who Do Not Appreciate Good Fortune

May you suffer.

From : The One Less Fortunate"

Well, I was thinking, and I thought... But. Sigh. Where do I begin? -Five seconds- Okay. I'm very much confused right now. Firstly, it is now six fifty two in the morning and I was awoken by a nightmare so real I thought it actually did happen because it felt like it did, when it then did. The last few moments I spent in fuckland dreamland had me running cowardly, with the loss of being upright sense, towards my parents' bedroom before hopping onto their bed and cuddling into my mother's arm. After my wake, I picked my favorite only pillow, and my phone (why phone? I don't quite know)  and walked towards my parents' and slept on the floor by their bed. Fuck to what nightmares can do to the soul. I laid myself down staring anywhere but at the door, afraid of what might be following me. After about give-and-take an estimated twenty minutes did I then question myself several answers; why now? why more? why me? Questions in the form of answers, if you get what I mean. It hit me that this is reality, and reality is a place where only real things exist. Things with substance, things with matter. Thank you shallow scientists. So right now, I sit trying to be cosily comforted on a steel chair. My thoughts are still hovering above like clouds, and the danger of my nightmare is beyond the distance like stormy clouds. The terror of the every now and then lightning, followed by the after few seconds grumble of gods, and the color; darken of death. Involuntarily, my tears volunteer to race down my cheeks. This is of difficult times I keep telling myself. Just to end with the start of truth; then I thought.

Without The Surface.

Nippled cheeks and dimpled breasts, come along through the fest. I think that once twice is just one time too many. I can't find my thoughts. They're all over today and not even that form of meditation works. I'm more interested in holding on to a firework and to imagine myself being rocketed to the heavens with Katy Perry's Fireworks popping the soothed background. Okay, I can't do this. Ta.

Hendak Ke Mana.

Jadi saya pun tertiup oleh angin bahasa terhingga ingin menulis dalam bahasa negara saya. Saya memang  tidak tahu apa kesimpulannya dalam makna kata hidup. Pada setiap destinasi yang telah saya sampai di dalam cerita masa ini memang cuma memeningkan kepala saya. Cerita yang kian saya baca mempunyai jawapan yang haruslah diberi perhatian jika ingin menangkap erti perenggannya. Secara jujur, empat kaki atas tanah memang tidak mencukupi untuk mencapai keseimbangan naluri dan keinginan. Jika ianya dipanggil keinginan, keinginan itulah bagaikan kepak yang mempunyai hidup jiwa sendiri. Walaupun berkaki-kaki memijak lantai supaya tidak senang digerakkan, kepak ajaib ini akan menaikkan seluruh badan jauh atas ke langit lalu mengenakan perasaan yang pekat ketidakpuasannya. Tiada apa yang boleh dilakukan untuk selamatkan diri. Oleh itu, pengorbanan adalah satunya jalan keluar. Kepak kejam haruslah dikoyakkan dan dipisahkan daripada badan. Jarak diantara langit dengan bumi amat ketara tetapi hasilnya cukup berbaloi. Deminya, semua pun telah diberikan. Tiada apa yang boleh menghentikan fikiran hati untuk berpatah balik lalu kakinya bermara ke hadapan dengan penuh keghairahan. Saya tidak inginkan semua ini. Keinginannya mahukan saya. Pertukaran subjek dalam minda tidak lagi dikawal oleh pemiliknya sendiri, tetapi oleh yang berhendakkan tinggi. Ke mana jua lagi?

A Stretch.

I've hit the planes. Stretch of horizon with nothing but nothing everywhere. We tend to not appreciate those times when we were down at the valleys or even high above mountains. We don't appreciate simply because at most of such moments we never realize where we actually are. So right now, with all the emptiness going on, I once more am finding and looking, and searching hard for an output to release energy whereas an input to incubate passion. What's life when either one of the two puts isn't present? So I've had my interview for the promotion and I thought I did okay, but in my world, okay is never good enough. There were many instances I wish I did not hold back my tongue. I did however, speak freely with brutal honesty throughout the entire interview. There comes a time when the mind can just shut off from all cares of the world, thus the planes. Whether I get this promotion or not, I don't quite care. My mind weighs both the option and I'm in favor for any outcome. Let's leave it to God to see what best fits me. As for the management of this department, it took me four months to learn what I know now so all I have to say is, I'm squirming my way out of my own grave. Hitting this strange plateau state of both the mind and heart is challengingly familiar. It feels very deja vu, like I've seen all this before but I cannot quite recall when exactly. Forward. So life moves on; with us living it with fake illusions of the future and haunting wonders of the past. Nothing can be done but be done in this moment itself. Strange, how unemotional I'm sounding right now in my inner ears. It's so not like me but everyone deserves a break from being themselves every now and then.