Springbonjo

Like a sudden gastric attack, like a sudden judgement from you of all people.

Like a sudden savage attack from you, when I treated you as a good friend.

Like a sudden realisation the promises you gave, the apologies, the msgs were all bullshit.

Like a disappointment, people around you always hurt you the most. No wonder you turn to your demons, the very ones who disapprove, are actually the cause of it.

Like how we don’t talk, don’t go out, pretend we don’t exist to one another anymore.

Like a sudden dawning it’s not cement strong, but glass fragile, superficially pretty but empty, ugly, vicious.

Like a joy your darl msgs you, like a sudden feeling you have no energy to reply.

Like a brief flirt with an aquaintance, like the hurt when you see him with another girl.

Like a cigarette to calm your soul, like you realise you haven’t inhaled properly.

Like how it was just you and me, in the rain, in another world, after all these months, feeling secure and happy.

Like how yesterday was carefree footloose and fancy free, today wrecked with misery.

Like how nauseous you are but no red bull, because it is not vegetarian by a comment here.

Like how things twist and turn and you huddle in pain, for now, hoping it to unfold to better times.

What burns bright and fast extinguishes as such, pity the fool who sits and mourns, for something that ignites so fast wouldn’t last.

They came as quick as they left.

Pangs of melancholy hit me, whimsical I am
Memories that hurt;
A friend who assures they are better than none.

I saw your smile today-
It’s been a long time since I saw it, at me.

It wasn’t specially for me, but it was enough to brighten my stressed, burnt out, exhausted

Soul.

I’ve had enough.

I missed you, but it seems.

Burning quickly
Things that are.
Never, ever last.

*

Money is not happiness.

No smile on the protagonist face-
Agony occupies the space.

Previous tenant was sunshine happy
Clouds do come, rain and storms but a rainbow guranteed.

No matter how many storms I weathered through,
soaking wet,
I am,

Cold.

*

There are so many things I want to say;
But letters to words, from thoughts when said
Sign an invisible confirmation,
Statements are sealed.

The ink has dried,
Documents submitted.

The Judge has made her decision.
the court in rise of the execution.

The verdict is plain to see,
Audience nay gasps because it’s clear.

The condemned, the victim, the guilty.

Who is to blame, who is to say?
What if there was a conspiracy?

The thud of the wooden hammer,
the wigs
the drapes.

Honour, integrity-

Are they in stone because they are for here,
or frozen, forgotten,
for little birds to peer.

*

I want to run, maybe what you said it’s true-
Escapism, I do not deny my dreams
Far fetched but ease my soul.

It’s getting harder and harder each breath I take.

The music pricks my ear
The scenery an eye sore
The smiles are nothing but plastered on
The touch are with malicious intent or merely accidental
The smells so repugnant it makes you sick
A rose so ugly it might as well be fake.

The ciggarette is your friend you think
The fragipani nothing but more than what is was
The desired object doesn’t fit
The foes in victory while the nemesis in wake

The books comfort a moment
Nothing but a paper reeking of superficiality.

The paint distressed and stretches your patience
The time flies by when you’re in need of a miracle rescue operation.

The bills too fast they are spent.
Your stomach growls too often for a coverted longing

You seek comfort in the arms
You realise too late it is nothing but a lump.

It didn’t stay there for you
You’re too impulsive, it’s true.

Everything you want is out of reach-

Tell me, how not to despair when even the smallest thing breaks you down.

And so ends this prose-

I only hope it doesn’t last, no one knows.
The exact measure of reality,
the fiction of originality.

Hope doesn’t come
Everything is fading.

It doesn’t last.

Jess wrote something sweet for me. Thanks babe.

I don’t know how to convery my thoughts, for converted to words lose their exclusiveness in my head. It is, privarcy invaded. My space, raided, stripped, stark.

Not very happy, but a smile, made my day.

Boss said I dressed pretty today, boss’s dad said I dressed lady-like today. Hehe.

*

How long before I can sit in the sunshine and feel all is well?

I am very scared. I need help.

Previous post Imagine is a work of fiction. Any coincidences or similarity to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. May I add I am a literature student, so I write to express my thoughts. It doesn’t mean I write reports which state facts, but I dwell in the world of writers; the world of make believe, what ifs, and what should have been.

Any distress caused is regretted.

*

My post stirred up a bit of a misuderstanding. I am just glad I ironed things out. May I emphasize, posts that are fictious, or literary, are

A. NOT LITERAL
B. REEL LIFE
C. FICTION

*

With that, here is a short story.

*

She is walking in the countryside. Of fences, trees, patches of grass, open fields of buttercups, the occasional cow, the cat.

The path was bumpy, and cruel to her feet. You see, she is bare foot. She ran away from the city to seek refuge. The harshness of dog-eat-dog world there, the snappy rude people, the fast paced life pushed her to breaking point. She got insane- by bolting half naked from her apartment, because
the straw that broke the camel’s back was of incessant calls by telemarketers. Her boss was constantly taunting her, from sexual harassment to plain mockery. She had tyrannical customers, and endless humilation by her boss in front of them. She was stripped of dignity, robbed of her pride, and punished for merely existing. She had no one to rely on, to turn to, because she ran away from an abusive, dysfunctional and broken home.

A splash of rain drop landed on her cheek. She looks up at the impending storm. Something in her snapped. She got angry, the rage supressed all these years suddenly imploded within her. A beast, released from its cage, and is ready to wreak havoc.

A farmer down the road saw a mad figure fight with the rain. As the rain fell, he watched as the lunatic slashed, mauled and gasped at the raindrops. He could see it increased her frustration, because liquid cannot be grasped. You feel it slipping through your hands, and then your urge for constant reassurance from a solid touch is not satisfied. She fought and fought, helplessly, and increasing rage. He was frightened by her roar, and loud ear-bursting wail, and then, finally, falling and collapsing into the ground when she could not fight no more.

The country is as cold as the city, for the simple minded people here are too trusting in the past had been conned too many times by cunning scheming minds- folks are suspicious of strangers. The farmer felt a pang of sympathy, but cowardice and fear of the unknown took over the pity of a mad girl. He turned away from his spot, a hole from the rotting of the wooden panels of a locked shed.

You see, the farmer was mad too, locked up and forgotten for months by his equally unstable wife. He lived with his feces; starved, emaciated, and his brain only bore the slightest of sanity. Voyuerism kept him alive, and so did the cruel fact his body hadn’t gave up yet.

They are alone, as their hearts beat together as outcasted, neglected abandoned people. The Lord sees their suffering, and plans something for them. Perhaps they serve a punishment, or a test.

They breathe, and blink, and their day of salvation comes, awaiting, along the way, today, tomorrow, or years later- a prophecy to be fulfilled.

Returning to an isolated sub urban empty apartment. You shiver, because it is always cold. Cold from lack of feelings. You shudder, like how someone disgusts you. How you irate me. How you are the bane of me. The very bane of my soul, not really actually, for you are not even half of me, maybe not even my pubic hair, for you are nothing but a unoworthy bacteria. When did an outsider was allowed to barge in, to trespass under your very nose?

Oh the audacity! Now she’s turning her back on you, talk about dog biting the hand that feeds it. How apt, perhaps. And what is this?

Now the suburbans have shifted, morphed into a deserted island. You and yourself are alone. You dream of a thousand scenarios, think of a million possibilties, tear your hair out. Take a driftwood and cut your hands, bleed to make sure you still feel, that you still know you are alive. You could gorge on mussels, but even now, you cannot consume flesh, because your very subconscience repels meat. You are a vegetarian, with no principles. You don’t see why you shouldn’t eat meat, but see the pesky details of not having the ease of having food so easily.

Meat, meat- I want to bloody murder you. Take a coconut husk and violenty grab your hair, to hammer your skull, skin you like the husk, until I have a masterpiece; bizarre, morbid and twisted nonetheless; a goggle-eyed dead head stares at me from an intricately carved coconut husk, the limbs are arranged pleasingly to a skillfully slashed organ. How beautiful, that with some work, even the ugliest, could be, art.

Everyday you trudge around the island, you imagine the trees, the palm trees are your friends. They are pretty and shady, but you could run away and die in front of them and they wouldn’t move. You don’t know if they cannot, or don’t want to. Or perhaps you wasn’t miraculous enough for even trees do not uproot.

A rodent scampers by. You push a deranged hair out of your dirt streaked face, you will roast and eat its entrails raw later. For now, peace, or rather calm before the storm prevails.

It is 3pm on a Saturday afternoon. I am fatigued… but happy since it’s my first Saturday off… I have quit my last job, jobless. Oh how “vacation-ny” it feels.

Getting emotional, I refuse to add a category marked as ‘Emo’ under my categories. For adding one means I have the option of filling posts as emo, and I despise the term, for misery is a state you choose to, when you can be happy. It’s been more then a week…

I am cautious of treading in these murky waters- you could get drowned in the infinite pool of unhappiness, I almost did.

And the quiet drizzle outside conveys my hidden emotions, I cannot cry anymore because my tears have stopped. I do not lose appetite anymore, because my hunger has resumed. I do not despair… but somehow there is a tear.

3 pm melancholy… but as the hour goes by, so must I move on, the upset remains, but swept under the flurry of remains.

Mommy showed me my phone bill… a whimsical smile at the oversees call charges. Global, like how you are to me now.

I hope one day it’s like back not too long ago again.

So the things that occupy my mind. It’s good to be back. I missed the typings…

Should I mention my different habits- different sleeping pattern, different food… things change. I think, you wouldn’t know me. Heck even my loyalty to starbucks is now a polygamious one- coffeebean outlets are pretty. Damn.

And the reason I’m back… is cuz I know my rubbish is being read- setting up a brand new blog is tiresome, you gotta inform people of the new address- albeit here NO ONE LEAVES COMMENTS- except Kerio.

To show you love me please comment regularly so I know you love me and I will blog more cuz you love me and I know you love me.

I took some psycology test- drawing shit and my results were I am insecure- which explains the above love shit.

A new life, new everything, but some things remain. Oh and I think the reason for feeling down is Portugal lost- I cried. I had a shoulder to lie on- it was nice.

What a weird way- of what- but it’s nice to be back.

Been happy, happy, happy. I have all I need, I have who I want, I do what I like. That’s why I didn’t blog so much… I don’t want to spoil things…

It’s gonna end soon.

Sun shining on my face, I close my eyes.
In the passenger seat, I am, radio plugged.
Feelings of exhaustion.

Night enveloping us, I revel in the way you look when you drive.
It drives me crazy, because it makes you so grown up and suave.

Night conversations with you… that make my day
Morning rush to school.

Life would be better if you stayed for the ride here too…
Melbourne is poooo-ey baby.