Jingle-Balls.

Jingle bells,

And you yell,

"Girl! Your ass is fine!"

Then you bed a dude instead,

And wake up in denial.

Hey!

Jingle bells,
Something smells,
There's vodka on the floor.
You left your underwear behind,
as you ran out through his door,
Hey!

Jingle Bells,
Something tells,
Me that you were having a good time,
I saw your legs wrapped around his head,
Or wait, maybe they were mine.
HEY!

In the corridor,

Your girlfriend yells, "You're Gay!"

You shake your head and run,

Because your mama says you ain't!
Ha-ha-ha!

Jingle bells,

Santa tells,

Me that he gave you your due,

You wished for joy and gaiety,

And now your wish came true.

Merry Christmas Everyone :)

Winter Dreams.

I've been dreaming without sleeping,
It's safer that way,
Because the nightmares are contagious,
I cannot control what they play.


I've been living without breathing,
It's nurturing that way,
Because my decadence is fallacious,
But decadent I will stay.

Off in the night while you live it up I'm off to sleep,
Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat.
I hope it's gonna make you notice,
someone like me.


You know, that I could use somebody.


- Kings of Leon

My Manic & I

You know what's really funny? I've stopped sympathising with anything and everything. Yeah, so it's probably not that funny. Right now, as I type this I have 6 chat boxes open on facebook with different people saying various "Hello"s, "Ssup?"s, "There?"s and even one disgruntled "DIE". I don't even feel guilty about not replying.
I just sigh and shake my head like it's nothing, hover my mouse over the the box for a second and then switch to some funny youtube video. People don't interest me anymore. And yet I get depressed when nobody calls or replies. The thing is, when they do, I ignore them. I only want to be wanted. It's an unending cycle that reaffirms my insecurities, invalidates them, and then makes them all the more apparent. I think it's because I like stepping in and out of the light. The traffic's been rushing past me since forever, and I was supposed to be on a bus to somewhere by now. But instead, I'm still at the bus stop, waiting for a bus that already left, or will never arrive. I don't like making the extra effort to dodge my curfews and meet people really close to me. I lie a lot, and I'm not complaining about it. I only lie when it's justified (i.e someone is being unfair to me) or when I'm feeling particularly defensive/mischievous. Either way, I'm too accustomed to it to feel any remorse. Another example of how I'm closing up on the inside. I don't think I want to date again, ever.
I don't think I want to hear about anyone else's problems ever again either, no matter how much I say otherwise.
Am I turning into my ex?
That's a scary thought.

Yes yes, I'm whining and self-obsessing.

But this is my blog remember?

I have a new philosophy:

It goes something like this.

It's all there. You just can't see it.
Funny, neither can I.

Tops.

Spin, spin, spin,

Carve circles in the wood.

Little dendochrons that prove,

That we aged on this table.

Tilt, tilt, tilt,

On your axis and beyond,

Sway about in monochrome,

And dance to the silence.

Fall and raise,

Then tug at my fortune,

Pull it along on a string,

And watch me change colors.

Faster, faster, faster,

Turn faster than the Earth,

So that days turn to years,

But seasons never change.

Red, Blue, Green,

Map my life in colors,

Carry my soul on your tip,

And my future in your trail.

Don't slow down,

Convalesce back to life,

Keep my eyes on your frame,

And mind on your existence.

Stumble now,

Take my euphoria too,

Let my elation fade away,

To the sound of your falling.

Still, still, still,

Be still and be stunned,

Hush me when I complain,

That there is no after-life.

Broad-Way.

I like to watch them smile,
when they pose,
in front of New York,
and all it's blinking lights.

That could be me,
stumbling out of Grand Central,
in baggy clothes,
and sunglasses.

Then I think,
That this could be me instead,
Surrounded by green walls,
and paperwork,
Clicking 'save',
and moving on.

Morning Came Too Late.

This late September,
I chased white cars,
While you hurt me,
in your sleep.

This late September,
I smoked your cigarettes,
When you never came,
and I waited anyway.

It's Quiet, But I'm Sure, There's Something Here.

Could you tell me when this summer expires,
So I can start preparing for winter?
Could you leave me a note,
When my love is dire,
So I won't care anymore?

I'm so scared of loving,
That being loved isn't fair,
When forevers don't last long enough,
And the hearts, they cease to care.

You're so insecure, you're stuck in your mind.
You're oh, so demure, you refuse to unwind.

But it's your delusions that need clearing,
That only reinforce,
The conviction that your loving,
Isn't needed anymore.

Do I see an infinite, when I look in your eyes?
Do I see an absolute, when you make me smile?
Don't hate me, cuz I'm crying,
I ain't that insecure.
Don't leave, cuz I'm trying,
Not to care anymore.

Ache.

And if you're ever around, in the city or the suburbs, of this town,


Be sure to come around,


I'll be wallowing in sorrow,
wearing a frown,
like Pierrot the Clown.


Don't be sad, little boy, little boy,
Don't be mad, they're just little toys.

You, Always.

If I kissed your neck right now, would you feel it at all?
If called your name again, would you run to me,
like you did yesterday,
and the day before,
but not too long ago?

If I lay down again, would you hold me in your arms?
If I showed you my scars, would you take them away,
like you did with your lips,
like you did with your kiss,
and with your heart?

If I stumbled as a I walked, would you support me again?
If I twirled as we danced, would you balance me,
hold me by the fingers,
hold me by the warmth,
and with your eyes?

If we slurred our love again, would you say it?
If we touched again, would you feel me entwined,
with the fabric of your skin,
with the digits of your body,
and with your soul?

If I hadn't insisted, would it have been different?
If I hadn't persisted, would we have smiled today,
and cried together when apart,
and think of each other tonight,
instead of just me?

If hadn't professed my love, would you have?
If you hadn't confessed your past, would I,
tell you that you could never be,
tell you that it's not enough,
and that I wish it were?

If I grew tired and fell asleep, would I dream?
If I woke up, would I feel your absence,
feel you not calling for me anymore,
feel you not miss me like I do you,
and feel nothing at all?

Would you still call me angel and turn off my lights?
Would you still smile after you finished your words?

Would you listen to me love you forever,
Even if, you couldn't love me back?

You would.
You could.

You did.

Oranges & Purple Clocks.

Meh. I haven't been writing, so I thought I'd post something I wrote about an year ago.

Tick Tock.

My purple clock,

Could I spin you around one more time?

Sleep not,

Your endless mock,

and your sweet insulting rhyme.

Orange Here,

And seeds to taste,

Could I cut myself another slice?

Orange Fear,

Those seeds I hate,

Could you bring me Misery Pie?

Severed Hands,

Kneel them neat,

Point them in the right direction.

Metal strands,

Time to keep,

The clock's timed inflection.

Pointing Me,

One-man compass,

Could I use such navigation?

Pointless See,

One-man use us,

Orange my Obliteration.

Severed Feet,

Massacre please,

Blood upon the hour.

Pretty Sweet,

Chiming tweet,

The milk is turning sour.

Hic-Hic,

Inavded Vision,

Its 13 o' Clock in the City.

Lipping Stick,

Fertilization,

Little limbs aren't pretty.

Nightings, Good.

Sleeping Tight.

Oranges and Clocks will sing.

Sighting Blood,

Meeting Fights,

And revelations, I will bring.

How Does It Feel?

It's been what, 4 months since my last proper blog-post?
Not that anyone's keeping track. I'm having an Avril Lavigne revival as I write this, a revival that will surely end the second the track list hits "Girlfriend" at which point I'll set my pc on fire.
It's kinda like Russian Roulette. Except with more potent weapons.

Do you remember when she used to be so good? Sure, her lyrics and even her rebel costume seem stupid now, but way back when, when non-conformity was the norm, she was pretty fucking cool. Objectively of course, she's not much of a singer or song-writer. But I'm not getting into that.
The point is, she's different now. For better or worse it's hard to say (Worse! Worse!). She's changed.
She's basically a sell-out, but that doesn't give me the same dramatic entry into the something personal starting with the word:

Change.
It's an annoying little thing. It creeps up on you when you're not looking. It comes crashing down you as a torrential downpour, when the weather-man promised only a drizzle. It's hard to accept change even when it's anticipated. Mostly, when it's anticipated.
The worse kind of change is the one that doesn't come when you've arranged and prepared for it. Nothing's changed for me. I'm still here, in the same city, surrounded by the same environment still wishing my life away.
Whatever's changed has only to do with what's outside the range of my introverted interactions. It's the people, who've left or are leaving. It's getting lonely and it's only about to get worse.

First there was nothing, and then God said, Let There Be Plight.
Or something like that.
So in this situation, I'm trying to do the best I can. Still have my sights set on Law School, because it's the only practical option for me which doesn't make me die a little on the inside. The reason I haven't posted about how bad CLAT was or how fucked up things were post Non-Admission Into Law School, wasn't just because nobody cares, it was because it was hard to come to terms with. It still is. Which is why, I don't think about it. It's easier to vindicate those who've made it and become bitter, than to empathize with their joy-unbound and still sympathize with their complaints about the inadequately air-conditioned library. Feeling like this doesn't make me a better or like-able person, but it does help prevent me from going back to bed every morning because someone left me message about the abundance of super-models at their campus. A little like Rehab, no, a lot like rehab, I take it one day at a time. Of course, I don't "Let Go and Let God", because that's what landed me here in the first place.

I've been writing a lot. What's sad is that none of it has seen completion. I've managed to scrap each one mid-way because it's a bunch of contrived bullshit. Whoever said I was self-destructive didn't know what they were talking about.

You live so much, its like you're dying
You can't give up, your body's trying
You build so tall its like you're flying
But rocks will fall; the sky keeps climbing.

You're gonna lose everything.

-Durenerin

A Suicide

It's not a simple thing.
At least not at the surface.
It's not a pretty thing.
At least not for those with pretty eyes.


I've done it, you've done it.
Not in the literal sense,
Of course not.
But we do it everyday.
Whether in compromise, or discipline,
Whether in love, or prostitution.
We die a little bit because of us,
but we tend not to notice.
It's only a little death,
only a little.

Someday maybe,
We'll think of it as fashionable,
to hang ourselves from the ceiling fan.
Or maybe it's already passé,
as we move on to shallower things.


Everyone's thought of suicide,
In a moment of self-pity,
Or dramatic self-glorification,
In the thirst for petty attention.
Or simply in the need,
for the ultimate escape.
Like a book that never ends,
Or a sleep, you won't wake from.


We shun suicide,
As a coward's cause unto death.
Maybe we should hold knives to our hearts,
And see our courage then.


From the pastor, to the merchant,
From the soldier, to the politician,
They've all considered it,
In a passing thought in the face of things,
Maybe to be brushed off like a bad dream,
Or to be clung onto, like a lover.


Maybe one day, we'll look for it's cause,
And skip the route to easy effect,
Maybe one day, we'll paint a more vivid picture,
So no one would die, voluntarily.
And so we might smile a little longer in the sun.


-Durenerin

A Smile, A Wave, A Wish To Die.

I begin to count the flaws,
One, two, hundred, benign.
You begin to count the assets.
Three, four, hundred malign.

That too did pass away,
And I said," I'm a bitter and,
lonely man." You heard,
the triumphant marching band;
The birds,
They sang for you that day.

I drudged behind, in drudgery,
The leaves for tomorrow fell today,
Colours of the fall,
That sung to me yesterday;
of it all.
Of all that could have been.

Places, that were mine to stay,
Took them, wrested, from my grip,
Forayed into the fray,
Slowly let go, I did slip;
I fell away.
So now you had my prized possession.

I cannot blame you,
Your abilities divine
that I am lacking,
That I fail to find;
Hacking,
At my innermost detentions.

I disparate your existence from mine.
I smile no longer when I see,
You so happy, so fine,
That thus you live in two: Honesty,
And what was mine.
And I'm a bitter, bitter man.

-Durenerin.

There's no time, for someone to save you.

You need it.

But don't feel it.

Suppress it.

It's driven by you.

The drama,

the hair,

the touch or,

the care.

A perfect,

world,

An imperfect,

whole.

The reality,

that's so fake,

The illusion,

that's at stake.

Don't cry,

you wanted it.

Don't try,

you've received it.

Let's end this thing while it's still unreal.

Different Love

Difference made me, young but unnoticed,

Chided and amused, for its effeminate ways,

But left undisturbed, a passing figment or phase,

That would soon fade, much like my natality.

Glance, awkwardly, shuffle,

Scorn me, for the factors

that don't align themselves,

With the fabric of your society.

Slowly, pubescent with age,

You turn avoidance into jeers,

Mock me, for I'm different,

Because no, God didn't make me so.

God couldn't create but benevolence,

Stitched and arranged in structures,

Break them down, commit sacrilege,

Though God did intend us to love.

Love, that darest not speak,

In speech or even mentionable name,

Silently residing and hiding in stares,

Coyly taking up shelter in our souls.

Fear drives us; No, it drives you,

Change would destroy it all,

Enter us into a world of dirty carnage,

Gored with promiscuity that's media defined.

Older now, now longer hormonal,

We control our desires, the arduous ones,

Yet now and again, we break away and sneak,

Into to the dark, into the night that won't persecute us.

I'd hold your hand, but people look,

And law abides by the inhuman-kind,

Save the tradition, save their families,

Sometimes we aren't even worth the living.

Look, he boldly professes, un-afraid,

He does not shy away from seeing eye to eye,

Look, how they raped him, he eats now rust,

He cringes away, in dusty corners seeing, but un-feeling.

Maternal love, paternal guidance turn to shame,

mixed with pity and disgust, for now I must be fixed.

Something's broken in me, I must conform,

lest the world strike me down for loving.

I'll stand in the lowest rung of society,

For I cannot change the aberration thus declared,

It is not right, for my love is wrong,

So I'll walk silently to mine own execution.

As they tighten the noose, but loosely so,

So the disdain, anger and hate can filter in,

As the black cloth shuts the light from my eyes,

And muffles the jeers, the laughter and the hate.

World, pull the lever, untouched, yet not divine,

Undignified as my love was and shouldn't remain,

As the oxygen leaves, its leaves behind a broken body,

But I pray, I pray not a broken soul.

I'll no longer be alone, I am conjoined,

Amassed, immersed in the multitudes of sacrifice.

Unfettered, released, bondage untied,

Yet not unaware of the lonely world.

Left behind, left my mark,

A reminder of the battles unwon,

Of the struggles that keep the dream alive,

for the freedom of our different love.

Prologue * Trumpets *

The nouveau blog-o-sphere.

I intend to keep my old one as well, but that's more like a personal diary now.

.................

I have nothing to commemorate this moment.

How about a political statement?

"It was believed that democracy means representation of the people. Our politicians believe it means the representation of condoms."

-Durenerin