Eleven Minutes

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Eleven Minutes @ Sky Garden. 170315

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Longstanding fascination with haiku

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I have always been an avid haiku enthusiast. Haiku is fun because of its non-complex set of rules. It is possible to create one in just a minute. It's good for wordplaying and mind exercise, making you count a lot with your fingers the 5, 7, 5 syllables. If only I could have spoken Japanese it would have been much, much nicer. Since, well, haiku originated from Japan. I try my best to inflict haiku pain upon the world as much as I could starting with forums and social networking sites such as my status box in Facebook. The results are at times hilarious and most people would find it extremely annoying but at the very least I get to enjoy what I do. People have yet to complain. Perhaps soon but until then I'll be showering the blissful ignorance of some people with this haiku: C to Z lazy That is undoubtedly me I adore haiku
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Roxana found herself outside my doorsteps unexpectedly. I did not even have the time to react. It was the shittiest time she could shown herself there, and now I reap what I have sown. Of course, I wish it was under better circumstances that we found ourselves swimming over. When I opened the door, she had a fag in her gabber and I just stood there lifeless and gutted, feigning for a hug. Was I the one that influenced her the error of my ways? She had always appeared tired whenever she graced herself in presence. Her face was slightly red, swollen by fatigue, the pores on her cheeks form tiny craters side by side. Her golden hair, ruined by the wind and rain's wicked howl, was missing a slight tint. She had centaur thighs after walking all day, and she had not a single penny for god knows why or how. But there I stood across her body that reeked of toxic air, seducing this woman with my lacklustre charm. It was a shitshow, that one, clearly, but we were making the most out...
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