Lazy from C-Z

Love deep in this world-hardened shell, I could never seem to figure out Sometimes I come across an impasse where all the triumphs and the burdens meet; I don't know how to react She came and all I did was act as if the jouissance I felt was real and nothing could take me further from the feeling that I could be somebody who could be better than someone I'm not; Maybe I'm fooling myself But the earnest effort I did helped ease the burden I carried with me all along; If this ends up in disgrace If this whole thing dies in its place If this little toying game ends up in shame, I want no more part of anything, anything at all, except the madness of my woe; I'll thank her for the time, and wasting mine My spirit will survive but die a cruel dive And even if I will still learn to love again It won't save me from the perils of what's to come and deep inside my shell I will wait and bleed;

The niceties had come and gone the moment the pretence had dissipated. Fortunate for me that the kick incurred only tapped me by a tickle instead of a full-blown genki-dama to the face. I had planned an exit strategy and only suffered minor burns on the way out. The dragon's den became insufferable to an extent, much to my dismay. I am a villain through and through, I realise, and with this discovery is the acceptance that I may never share any kind of lofty ideals meant for a person worthy of stature. I have come only to liberate the demons and let live the visage of tyranny inside me, except to that of whom I cherish. She is all that will ever see the sweeter side of me. My verdict is vindication; held as a votive, not in vain; for the verisimilitude of my vestige is voracious, violent, and verily vacuous. It does not discriminate; for my vengeance sees no side to anything and everything. Everyone deserves equal punishment. Being an adult has given me a different perspective in h

Nothing goes to plan and it is okay. I still feel copacetic amidst all uncertainty. Perhaps it is better off this way for now. I am not exactly the type to get bogged down by a single misfortune, and tragedy begets new beginnings, so a haircut to mark this end and beginning will suffice. Tonight will be a good time, perhaps. Maybe even tomorrow. It depends on the situation of the beau. So at this very stage the intention is for the revitalisation of my senses. I am somewhat reawakened. And should this fleeting feeling be short-lived, then I raise a glass to zetsubou and dance merrily to chillstep. There needs to be some reconciliation between my two finer sides, lest it be mucked up into a gelatinous mess.  My edda is finally underway. I had promised a certain someone of this. One epic divided into two subliminal parts. Seems nearly doomed to fail, I have a month to go, but to hell with it. My edda is coming! But Ani will never be able to have a feel for it. Dismay dawns upon my count

Head hurts, I know why  Hearts ache, I know why  Hands shiver, I know why  Feet wobbles, I know why   To live and die in solace in a maddening pace  Manic, depressive written in amazing grace  Punching holes to combat this mundane strife  Sitting lonely together with the love of my life  I have more souls than one;   Doors creak, I know why  Water flows, I know why  Wind swings, I know why  Flowers wilt, I know why  To experience firsthand that maudlin trance  Gambled my wits in a game of chance  Fell down through the rabbit hole  In a place where bulls took stroll  I will see it through in time;   To take myself on a wild goose ride  Chasing after sticks with one left foot slide  Sip the water from your lands  And the beaches and its sands  So we can live in an island under the sun;   When I no longer know why  Then I’ll no longer try  But until then I will fly  Until the day I cry  But I will never die  Never die  Said I know I... 

Dune on the sofa Quicksand buried deep Sandy dunes at the coastline Ramen girl and sleep Stars from above Tobacco and a thirst Love poems and distractions February 30 is the worst Sing of melancholy and wine Trifling on hallows eve Sings about being forgotten And yet still hold to believe Never sing the songs of pain Of ill-begotten time of joy Of way behind the mark of sorrow Of what she calls her little boy Si de pronto me olvidas no me busques, que ya te habré olvidado