Skip to main content


She had no idea what she had done, what she had unleashed, what she suffocated in him at that very moment. All the humanity vested upon him by his creator all drifted away by the sheer force of her blabbering, the slightest provocation of her gentle nature dissipated in thin air as was his. To her he was orange, to him she was apple. When the clock struck ten the sudden hostility became apparently clear, that he was to be what the deities intended him to be. His purposelessness now clear of suspicion, his mind forlorn. What audacity. It this was charisma reeking out of her bosom, I'd like to see her spread the legs for a more vile alternative. Devastated by the results of the conversations, he began thinking of a harsher consequence, mocking and offending him at a position of his vulnerability, clawing her thin nails into a cemented hole of absurdity. He grows ultimately sick of the constant depravity, the inoperable conflicts, and blame games, get right on to the ultraviolence.

He plotted and plotted, and as far as he knows, his limitations are quite high. He was well aware that he could never pursue any sort of unholy vengeance upon those that wronged him the most. His involvement of the things that surrounded him grew thinner and his hate kindled into a ball of many things wrong. His aim was certain, crush the infidel as she crushed his spirit. An eye for eye, one would put it. To the test nothing made absolute sense. It paid to see the arrogance suffer, so as they could witness their own destruction right before the moment they clinch their last breath. Those who wielded iron will would perhaps handle a more delicate situation in a different light. His will was of silk, featherweight and poetic.

There he had not a single word to utter, left defended by an odorous being with a foul stench of another being, downplaying the negativity aimed towards her by the crowd. Nothing to be pleased about or commended, they both struggle the same maltreatment on a different scale. Her frustrations were more apparent and thus widely criticised and mocked. To them she was but an accessory to their discontentment, a scapegoat to a crime she had not been subjected as of yet, an auxiliary character to a nonexistent plot and expendable as much as the next blameless creature that feigns interest to the whole situation, only trying to avoid confrontations which do not seemingly end in productive terms. Her bones were fragile, he noticed, thinking of all the potential harm he could possibly inflict to her someday. If given the chance her bones would be made soup in a big pot of human bulalo. The wide-eyed disgust stared down into him, pulling away his strength and his reasoning, left him speechless and bored to tears, undermining his authority over the space and hers. She fought back passively by besieging his every suggestion retorting to equally passive-aggressive personal attacks. She was to him devil incarnate.

He cursed her for the rest of the days to come, he wished her spawn to be as dark as her human essence, her belly speaking for itself as does her heart and brain and by that it wishes to be shortened of its life as it does when it catches ulcer. His eyes continually bored him ultimately until blood gushed forth from the pupils. They coloured the table red exhibiting all the pent-up rage held inside him for so long. This was not the moment to fall victim to deaf ears, ranges of her inactivity reaching an all-time low, her flexibility waning.

He was gung ho, she was gung whore.

And so the whole point of the debacle was to see which one gives in to which. Rhetorically none would give in even at the cost of life. The preplanned method was to resemble the other using a technology dating farther back than one would imagine. It clouded both their judgment and senses. To see them in such manner would make an old general's country blush out red vomit in embarrassment.  Her whole dilemma between him and her lovely play would no longer be contested. Good for her. She got what she set out to do, alienate the aliens and prove her mettle. She had everything, he was struggling, she had the charisma, all he had was pen and paper.

Of all the faux intellectual, she seemed the least likely to improve. Her diplomatic skills were deplorable and offensive, fits perfectly right in with the Opinionated Whores' Club. Population: One.

All the gastric passers-by did little to intervene. He was to fend for himself as she denounces that none shall hold title of babysitter within the community.

Sitting babies are quite easy in all honesty. Position the baby in a vertical position, form a ninety-degree angle from the point of pelvis and lay the baby's buttocks on a solid plane and there you go.

Popular posts from this blog


Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…

Me: At ease, the worst of the worst has yet to come

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains.
Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so.
She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking up pat…