Skip to main content

Bones made of love

Fancies were tickled, but no one actually bothered checking to see whether or not I would last another month under cold and miserable duress. The army of slugs were upon me day and night, as if my next day migraine was caused by a stray, microscopic infant slug who had lost its way. It saddens me to think my demise would be caused by an irreparable factor such as this. Perhaps it is a long shot, one that I am willing to ignore for now in order for me to enjoy what is left of my life outside the threat of constant paranoia.

I cannot even leave this McDonald's now. I have just consumed food once again without exercising in return. What form would my physical beside my countenance have in store for Miriam come December when she lands her gaze upon mine? It would be tremendously embarrassing. One that I hope to downplay for fear of disappointment. Once again I come across the threshold of falling in love like a maniac. A few weeks ago Miriam had told me of her brother's fears that I may end up being as such, a maniac. Well, it is not the first time I will exhibit such tendencies. But I digress, there is a fundamental requisite for me to rest, as my hedge of slugs await me with such vile contempt. There is something else that I need to do despite the fact that my failure in keeping arduous jobs remain constant. It is the only thing left that has remained the case; my short journey Ping Pong is the fifth or sixth in line with the same result in a span of, what, three months? Sweet Christmas.

I have fourteen minutes left before I forcepush myself to walk back to my hedgehome. By then it will be a short walk from the McDonald's across High Street Kensington station. The sky will soon melt back to milky white a few minutes from now. The darker it is when I get back, the better. My challenge is to push me away from the desire to partake in more sinful vices, such as wasteful cigarettes. It pains me to admit that my once pride has now been overtaken. It has already been a year, and I have stuck with very little gain. Mother help me. Homelessness is a cruel thing. If there ever was one thing I could not tell Miriam without cringing hard from the hardship, it would be this. Yes, yes, she likes me, and yes, yes, she would care less, but I have learned an awful lot in my relationship with Mioseon to know that honesty is careless abandon whose only intent is to sway us to a more preferable path. Honesty will bow to no man nor woman, much less if the intention to utilise it was mainly to sway favour towards yourself. Fuck honesty!

Three minutes left to go. Might as well get myself going. My head is beginning to spiral out of control. Tomorrow should provide me more time to spin my head even more with thoughts of December; what to do, where to go, and how to fucking live my life properly.

Popular posts from this blog

Snippet: In her darkest days, Elaine (worldbuilding), unfinished

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though, Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail.
"This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us both…

Unprayer

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…