Blasphemy

"Isn't it selfish of you to turn to God everytime you're in need"

" I don't do it everytime I'm in need."

"Only when you're trying to claw your way out of the net when you see sharks circling around you baring their teeth which glint with the evil that is just their nature to consume to sustain their own livelihood."

"Uh. If they're that helpless why don't you sleep with them."

"Because...... I'm saving myself?"

"Ohh the piggybank is so full!"

"SHUT UP! You didn't answer me."

"It helps me remember the net is a cage of tough steel so the sharks won't ever reach me."

"O-h"

"Yes"

"Will you be using that in your book of successful conversion formulas?"

"Sure. Why not! Why do you ask?"

"The tribals will think you're a hoot"

"Then why aren't you laughing?"

On leave.....

A strange liberation in cutting off the strings slowly and making an exit.
Temoporarily.
Without joy.

But it was a moment where curtains were to be pulled open.
When shutters were to be closed tightly. And sunlight was to be pushed out of every molecule of air within.

You could laugh that there wasn't enough light in this musty corner to begin with.
You could point this isn't darkness.
This is pitch black.

But so what if it is so?

So what if I raise my arm and not have my own eyes be able to see it?

So what if this black darkness clings to my skin?
Long after the lights are turned back on.
Like burnt nylon that can only be separated with bidding farewell to a part of your body.

There was a passion which pushed my blood faster through the narrow vessels, squeezing past, shoving eagerly into my brain. Pushing for me to write.

A messy fight of hands moving in wild gestures.
Now it has broken up with me and left without a trace.
The numbers changed. Addresses moved.

My ex has expressed a desire to not know me again.
Maybe forever.

So let me collapse into a heap.
In this heavy velvet air.
Tense with empty strokes of hand.

A moment of silence.
To grieve.

I dream.
Of being 13.

The age where our Friend from above sprinkles copious amounts of awkwardness and uncertainity. Chocolate sprinkles over our vanilla selves.
An age so delicious on a plate of memory.

When sweetness was a natural course of life from within. Even when the world seemed all but that.

When being alive was an absurd question.
As if anyone could want not to be.

....

My words left me when I shamed them with my behaviour.
Now even when my karma finds me back they will not return.

My little babies jumped out of their nest before they grew wings.

I was too bad a mother and now they're dead. Like my feet.

I feel no inclination to blog anymore.

kim bahuna?

The template must be changed. In my defense I tried several others which didn't work once I had completed working on them.

I must also relocate my blogroll which a layout accident shoved aside. I haven't forgotten you guys [the few who read this!] but haven't found the time to manually redo the entire tedious process as yet. After exams!

Hopefully :)

Hello again

My mummy is being unwrapped.
The mistake was just noticed.


By me.