Skip to main content

If only love can make me fly...

Fourteen hours of Esprit last night was a bit overkill for my mind and body. Today's soiree happened to be not such a blast after all. It was much too difficult to bounce my head around it with. My phone had died for more than half a day since, and tried to sleep it off within the confines of a public park hedge that I now call home. It was much of a tragedy for some time. For now I wonder what it would actually be like when shit finally reaches the fan a month from today. Where do I go and who do I turn to for help? Nobody except myself as always.

Miriam was with me once more. She is almost always with me as much as possible. Now I fear for my sanity again. To do the same mistakes as I did before. To live and die with one purpose and sticking by my weak mantra like a sore thumb with no direction and no worries in life. At the very least this woman makes me feel a very happy and lucky man, and sometimes I do ask myself whether I deserve such a painfully honest and loving heart. I was doomed by this same insecurity once before, and I will be damned if I let this win over me a second time. My world is in such a fragile state of affairs that even though I keep telling myself how copacetic I think I am or regardless of how I think about the state of my own existence, I remain grasping at straws with each step, and one wrong costs an awful lot more than a hundred rights. One day is all it takes. My worst enemy is my own self, and I have known this titbit for quite some time now.

While I went out to find a place to recharge myself and my electronic accessories, not much actually happened, save for being bothered by kids who know very little as I woke up from a very traumatic battery, suffered merely hours before, within my meagre hedge. I still had my look-good attire on while being homeless. Quite a contradiction if you ask me. But I was too tired to work up a mood, or even care a bit. Sleep to me has become a survival instinct that I could no longer even dream of losing my hedge even if it is proven to be inevitable. It has clung to me like the slugs that own the fucking soil and spoil me at night.

In a few I will be there once again, biting the cold, waiting for a spin doctor to talk me into believing it is my god-given right.

Popular posts from this blog

Strange Fruit

I had recently adorned a vow of silence for myself with Miriam for no apparent reason whatsoever other than to suit my whim, and, regardless of the pettiness associated with this misdemeanour, I pray this will only strengthen us both in spirit for the coming days. The coming days are definitely not meant for one such as me.
In the next few hours, not shortly before I am done with this piece, this vow will be disavowed. Miriam is sleeping soundly in my right, broken by the exhaustion that seemed to catch her unaware. This was not what she had prepared for when coming to London. This was not what I meant for her when I asked her to come. In order to alleviate the guilt of me making it more difficult for us both, I do what it is that I do best, and that is to love her hungrily and wildly. And some little bit of swag on the side to cure her state of frustration albeit temporarily.
My days are long and yet wields very little. For now I do and take whatever I can, whenever I can. A grand f…

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…

Decide my fate for me

As though the wind may pass with golden steps from shallow graves, the warmth of her hands could not defeat January weather in England, proving that tests of fate weigh heavier than the insidious intentions of a warring tribe. Perhaps it is high time I engage in other methods more worthy of personal consideration. She left me in the cold when my reality cloaked in malady was in full motion, sweating icicles in the interior, punching my guts in gutsy ups and gutsy downs. She was my meaning. She is my void.