wanton clairvoyance

what if, the most unlikely of people could turn out to be a kindled spirit? a lot of times, we deny ourselves the chance to ever find out, for whatever first impressions or preconceptions we might harbor. on a seperate note, insinuation from sincere guardians mark the perimeter of precarious choices.

what if, for a moment, the roles were reversed, and the very same stigma be engraved onto us. would the exiled wish for a savior, if not just a glance of acknowledgement without the accompanying sneer or accusing stare? or does it feel like we're just blindly misunderstood, by default? after all, it's not much of a choice; to be shunned, or to shield ourself with an air of innocence- it just seems like a hopeless crusade. or maybe, no cause is never worth championing, because even the most minuscule drop of ink can taint a glass of water. and it makes all the difference in the world for that glass.

printed words & imaginary cinematography

so, just a brief and rare moment i get to hang out with my sister. we've got so much in common, sometimes it feels like i'm hanging out with myself. things to note:

1) we have the sudden compulsion to hit the bookstore, and grab a random title because we feel like we're getting a bit stoopid.

2) we both love the touch of crisp pages and the smell of paper to ever succumb to indulge in e-books.

3) we're both very cynical, and we share an unusual affinity to all things dark.

4) we both enjoy a good mug of coffee, (not to mention we get annoying headaches without a daily dose) and tea is for ah peks.

5) we secretly think our youngest sibling is adopted. really.

grace of the marionette

when a shroud of blindness becomes me, i'm glad for that pair of eyes, twin sentinels over my unsure footsteps. of the times you would intervene when i stand paralyzed staring at a puzzle you know would unravel me as the cost, or shake your head sadly as i am drawn to intense lights, the kind that casts an equally long and dark shadow - on whoever bathes in it. does this radiation mutate? or simply conduit?

someone please explain to me why is there a myriad of awkwardly shaped boxes all around me? makes it impossible to not wonder, and a curse to yearn to know, was pandora really a bitch, or simply curious? is it not just being hopelessy human to fumble with the gift of free will?

for the reasons you would choose to believe in me, to care unconditionally, my handful of earth angels, i am truly grateful. it's not hard to see in times like these, why you are the flowers painted in the rarest colour on my canvas.

chainmail, please

have you ever wondered, in most multiplayer online games, the armor is always the most interesting aspect of the experience? kind of the most prominent differientation factor- well, besides the fucking face of course. and it's so coincidentally close to home that just how it is in real life, we all customise our own personal set of security, against the harsh and unforgiving forces out there. how we each have to develop our own defense mechanisms to safeguard our own sanity.

to think about it, it varies greatly from person to person, some more unique and 'elite' while others choose to embrace the light and simplistic approach, confident of their own prowness and abilities to avoid injury. maybe as a more introverted person, confrontation isn't really my thing, which would explain my choice of harnessing such heavy protective measures.

would i eventually shed this burden, muster the confidence to believe that my own agility is enough to suffice? or am i going to wear an inverted iron maiden for life? too bad life can never be turn-based.

faith focus & resentment theraphy

a carousel of judging stares, unified by singular spite;
as torn lips drink from the poison de malice,
tribute to ouroboros, a familiar archetype confronted,
"let's peel of the skin, and the secrets buried within."

whisper and fuel the plight, a quilt of deranged insight,
suffocate the victim with a piece of alice,
puncture the flesh and engrave a song inverted;
there be no saviours, just the truth to redeem.

under the same blue blankets

have you ever wondered, how meeting someone under different circumstances could result in quite a very different relationship? like what if i didn't have aids, or what if i wasn't in the same state of mind or wasn't emo; or maybe even as small as what if... i had smiled when i introduced myself?

would we all have that same chance of knowing another the exact same way eventually? would we have cared, just a little bit more? would we have turned out to be great friends or just familiar strangers?

well, the most straightforward way of approaching this would be to justify it as fate's calling. aerosmith said "life is a journey, not a destination" - if you disregard that he was probablly high when he came up with that, it does connote the whole random encounter thing- pathways mapped out by the choices we make along the way.

and this is applicable to not only yourself, but everyone else as well- thus giving birth to the interwoven nature of this tapestry of journeys, and it will still be as random as it can be- which makes it no different than the concept of fate on a fundamental level. coz as much as you might be able to influence another's choices, you can't decide for them.

or maybe it's not so much about convincing another to take your hand and follow, but rather finding the right companions? like-minded nomads? coz if they're heading there as well, least you know that it's a little less lonely a road to walk on.

a toast to the things that make it matter

Fireflies. Little creatures that emit traces of anti-shroud. Sometimes too faint to realise, mostly unseen just because at that very moment in time our faces were turned to another direction. And it's that faint pulse of light that gracefully bestow an unspoken wave of acknowledgement- like a fuzzy sort of void-fill: a confirmation & connection, a meaning, a reason, and a simple 'thank you' for being part of somebody else's world. Do we choose who we play angel to, or are we chosen; -designated by the very people whom we grow fond enough to care about, coz it shows? And can a person ever be the sentinel of her own sentinel?

A toast, to the seemingly normal things we never realise can mean a lot more to another.. if only...