Updated! :)

There once lived a child who was the most peculiar child to have ever been born in a town called Finten. The child, who was a male, was branded as strange even before he began to walk and talk for his physical presence was something rather uncommon. In that small simple town where the most exciting entertainment to occur is a petty shop theft, in which only a small bag of cat's food was stolen (a note of apology was however discovered, addressed to the shop owner, Mr. Windelbudchen), news of an unusual-looking baby was scintillating gossip.

Why exactly was the child so exceptional, you may ask? Well, for one thing, he had the strangest eyes. They were large and almond-shaped, not uncommon and not gossip-worthy. Thick curly lashes framed his eyes, which were of different colours! His left eye was a shade of green that even the city nearby had never seen, a city so big and so famous for its diversity in races and hence, physical attributes. I reckon even you would be astonished to view such a rare colour, for that was the only way the colour could be described as: rare. It looked to be lime green, an appalling colour by all standards. However, when you stare at those eyes, whether quizzically or in wonder, it changes to become a warmer and darker shade of green! That is the totally beguilling part. Of course, the person who views this merely passes this change of colours as a trick of the light. It is unheard of that of chameleon eyes. Besides, isn't that colour the same as the lime green one? Of course, it must be a trick of the light. If they only knew that the light had not factored and that it was not merely an opticial illusion...

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She ran as if the legions of hell were close on her heels. Her eyes fixed on the light that burned like a single star in a black sky, drawing her towards it. Sweat trickled down her forehead as the sun scorched her beautiful fair skin mercilessly and yet, she didn’t concede. The legs supporting her already fatigued body were unsteady. Wait!, her inner voice shrilled as the light began to falter, becoming less pivotal, less important. Utilizing all the skills she obtained from her brief stint in the track team, she strode forcefully, causing stabs of pain to shoot along her Achilles’ heels.

A figure cut into her vision of the light, a figure swathed in a hideous frock of purple and green, whose limbs slowly proceeded to the door, recalling it back to its original position.

“Wait!” she echoed her mental conscience as the door began to slide. The man in the abomination of a uniform looked up, his eyes surprised but as he took in her familiar face, her clothes in disarray and her hair disheveled, a look of condescension crossed his face. His lips tightened in manifestation of his irritation, she was sure.

“Mr. Badingo, I am so sor-” she started as she came within an inch of the bakery, the bright infrared light coming from the oven nearly blinding her. Mr. Badingo waved an arm, clearly dismissing her apologies, which was a relief, because she had none; she had used it all up the previous week. The physical exertion came to a standstill as she arrived at the half-closed door and so began the mental exertion as her fragile wits and not to mention, heart, braved against Mr. Badingo’s thunderous red face, malicious words of poison just ready to spring forward from the tight line that was his lip. Wiping her sweaty forehead with deceiving calm, she walked in; heavy reluctance etched in her every move.

The Bimbo

Goodbye - For Now.

My eternal beloved,
In this world of woe, I now am shackled,
Your love makes me at once the happiest and unhappiest of men,
What tearful longings for you, now and again.

Do not ponder the question of my salvation,
As my thoughts go out to you from this dungeon,
Parade not the mask of your pain,
Do not let your spirit wane, do refrain.

My darling,
Await my return, I beseech you,
Until then, I hope to give you everything that remains,
Abide in this heart, carved only for you – forever my true.

Always and forevermore, I love you.

The Emo

Invisible

Your eyes – they sweep across my thighs,
My heart – its chambers crumbling apart,
My arms – they stretch towards your charm,
Your eyes – a veil of disguise; squinting with disgust.

Do you not see me?

The Emo

My Final Act

If tomorrow starts without me,
Do not linger, do not abhor,
For sorrow tears you apart,
Conquering your desolate heart.

When tomorrow starts without me,
Listen to my elegy; my masquerade,
I am a poet engraving my pain,
I am your daughter living a life of shame.

When tomorrow starts without me,
You fear melancholy; a song for the desperate,
A rhythm only hummed by those damned,
Then should havoc arise to witness your defeat?

When tomorrow starts without me,
And I am not there for you to see,
And if the sun should rise,
To find streaks of tears fill your eyes.

When tomorrow starts without me,
Even when the sun won’t shine,
And Apocalypse dawns and rewinds,
Emancipate, free yourself of hate.

When tomorrow starts without me,
And you watch the devil work his charm,
I am dancing under the question mark,
With a silence far deafening.

When tomorrow starts without me,
In Hell’s labyrinth, I am at war,
Mama, you watch me from afar,
For none survived to write their memoirs.

When tomorrow starts without me,
And I am walking into the hollow heart of an inferno,
I am sorry all you are left with is a grave that bears my name,
I am sorry that you’ll crave and share my blame.

When tomorrow starts without me,
Into abyss shall you not stumble,
I promise no tomorrow, for today will always follow,
Your wounds will heal, your heart will seal.

But if tomorrow starts without me,
No matter, till then I’ll grant you a license to love again,
Until a new dawn emerges,
You’ll start the day anew.

Should tomorrow start without me,
As I lie untouched in my destined slumber,
And you find someone to make me obsolete,
You’d seize the night the world revolves again.

Although tomorrow starts without me,
Do not linger, do not abhor,
As all must do when the Grim Reaper calls – we die,
But the curtain is being lowered now,
So ends my final act.

The Emo.

The First Post...

...our initiation into our very own literary dreamworld, together!
We'll make magic together, I just know it.
Welcome!

The Bimbo