One more for the crabs

I’ll take a handful of those surprises
That bag of sunshine and prizes
I’ll make you chuck them aside
And kick them around with pride

Throw at me your whims and fancies
And I’ll make you a chain of daisies
At the end I’ll push them away
Just like how they’ve all gone astray

I’ll slit your hands with care and love
And you’ll protect me with your rubber glove
We’ll sit and watch the sun go down
And how we turn those smiles from frowns

We'll lead them down to the beach
I’ll stand in a distance within your reach
Hours pass with more waves to crumble
I’ll sit and listen to your quiet mumbles

We'll walk away with finished business
Tired and drained from the net and fishes
Look beyond the sea and sigh
Slit our wrists together and die

Flying high with the purple matador of Zambooka land

So starting work was refreshing. The two month long break was a much needed one, because hey. Anyone who knows me, knows how hard I work my ass off. I mean, it’s a fucking feat to get up religiously at 7, take 2 trains to get to work by 8.45am, boot up my PC, moan about the long week ahead while mentally preparing myself for the strenuous job briefs piling in, and then debate with myself what I should be having for breakfast. Then comes 9.15am, when everyone else comes strolling in and I’m yelling at everyone to hurry up cos the princess is already bloody hungry.

Then I start work at 11 and work really hard til 12 because it’s lunch time and everyone’s got to eat. And everyone knows a hungry bitch is an angry one. So we all go eat. And then comes 3pm when lunch break is finally over. Time to make that nice cuppa caffiene. Now, a good cuppa takes a good hour. There's nothing worse than not putting effort into something you're passionate about! 4pm brings about a great need to inhale some toxin into them lungs. Stupid foo, you can't detox without the toxins mah. After all that jingle-jangle, it's time to get down to business and I'm already thinking about dinner.

But that's all boring.

Now that I'm in this high-flying corporate world, I really know what work is. No one told me that using your brains could be this tiring. Damn the man to this shit. I'm a ditz. Everyone who knows me will attest to that. I don't make decisions that will affect the cosmic balance of the universe. I don't pick up the phone to check on things. People pick up their phone to check on me!

"Are you slitting those wrists again?"

"Popping one of those nice blue pills again, eh?"

But that's all boring too.

So what's not boring to you lah? I'll tell you what. What's not boring is me spending all the money I won in the Lotto last month. A hefty sum, if you ask me! I get to swagger into fancy shops and use the prestige toilet without moaning about forking out RM2.00 each time I want to pop my zit.

As a wise person once said, and I quote" How amazement!"

Dares of Yore

There’s nothing quite like it.

She sat on the ledge of her apartment building, staring out into the dark blanket. The street was empty but she could hear the sounds of life in a distance. Or was it? Maybe life was simply in front of her, except she’s successfully managed to block it out. Deleted, erased, emptied.

The blankness – there’s nothing quite like it.

What she could feel was what she failed to see. The figure in her room. The darkness she was forced to return to. After all these years, she’s finally come to accept being embraced by the black cloak that broods in every corner of the room she was in. The silence it brings. The cold, hard solitude that others resented and tried to avoid was what she learned to held on to.

The stillness - there wasn’t anything quite like it.

It didn’t have a shape, or a name, or any intent. She tried sitting quietly once, with the lights off and a pencil in her hand. She tried to draw what she thought she saw. But she couldn’t, because really, there wasn’t anything there at all. So what was it? What was it that welcomed her home every night?

The heavy breath that lingered - there's nothing quite like it.