You and Me

It's like a

worn-out tee,

not much variety.

Frayed threads,

easily snapped,

a little holey

here and there.

But it's comfy,

Just what I'd wear.

I don't have to put on airs

You know me.

Thinking Of You

Pitter-patter of raindrops…

On the window ledge
Faraway whooshing of cars
driving into puddles
They used to walk in the rain
Skipping along hand in hand
A gentle lip-lock
Wet smiles and shivering giggles
Hair glistening underneath
the shimmering curtain of
grey-tinted showers
*************************
Sleepy growling
The skies threaten to
pour on this land
Mouse cursor blinking
I read these lines
I wonder if I’m on
your list.

The Prerogative of Pain

I lash out

to cope

for dictate emotions

uncontrollable actions.

I gloat at your distress,

flinch at your lack

of remorse,

angered that retribution

doesn’t make

a difference

to the hole in my soul.

Every lash becomes

a backlash

but I cannot

stop.

(Something I wrote a while ago and posted in my blog. Just exploring the extremes of rage.)

Smash

Hasegawa arose from his slumber. He threw his blanket aside nonchalantly and rose to his feet. Slowly, he paces to the valuable shiny silver mirror. He observes his reflection. Newly tattooed symbols on his shoulders were still sore.

He drew a deep breath, held it momentarily before exhaling it forcibly.

And he went back to sleep.

Better than now

I am still dreaming

Of a day when I'm better

I am still thinking

Of the reason I'm bitter

It all comes to nothing

Really? Again I wonder

Truly there must be something

Under all this thunder

Wondrous singing

From a wondrous writer

Joy and hope, will it bring?

It seems there is no answer

Time to do something

Time to quit being a quitter

Time to rise for changing

Time to enter the Winner

World: Advent

Before a Nether Advent Major can earn his stripes to perform a Phull Manual Kheopt Jhump, he would need to accumulate enough Daytars on his Nether Advent Fone.

But this one decided to turn Renegade on the Greatest Rendezvous, defying the Holy Council of the Heavenly Celestial Knights and the Sacred ArmMore of the Guardyans.

The reason:

To search for a New Pheauture.

Mess

What a mess the room is

Paintings strewn all across the floor

Bed sheets tossed aside un-ceremonially

Chairs not in their proper places

Documents with neat handwriting in disarray

Curtain billowing from the gentle wind

Wrinkled clothes abandoned in the basket

Boots and stockings unattended

Outside, the brown rustle and fly around at random

Pleased to just run aimlessly

To laugh unrestrained

We roll in the meadow

Not worrying about the dirt

Nor minding the grass stuck in our hair

As long as we can hold each other

In our arms

Our lips touch gently

We blush and you giggle bashfully

Who cares

Let this mess

Be the evidence