“My favourite is Marlboro, have you tried before?” asked father suddenly, as he took his pouch of tobacco from a jacket pocket. I replied that I had indeed tried it, to which father retorted “I should hope you haven’t been smoking, if you have been, I’d have to stop talking to you out of disappointment.”… Continue reading .9 diary one
Stand by me- The din of the homeless man outside Strumming his out of tune guitar singing pop songs of decades past. Four years I’ve passed him, Four years I’ve heard him sing the same songs. REM, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan. All songs filled with such warmth. Even a man with nothing can produce these… Continue reading .7 stand by me
A minimalistic caricature of your living room in pastel blues, pinks and greens. The saxophone oozing from the radio hi-fi dancing to the rhythm of the gentle drums and bouncing bass. Close your eyes everything turns into pastel, elegant, simplistic and bright. Sounds turn into a smooth ambient fusion Of synth and jazz. Pastel… Continue reading .6 life in pastels
The sun is high as birds fly by, chitter chatter all day in the hot spring of May.
The rain it pours drip by drip, drop by drop. Grey cloud covers the sky. A blanket, soiled and glum. The earth it feeds, be it full now as puddles form, deeper and deeper. The rain ceasing to stop, droplets all the larger. Drip by drop, drop by drop. Animals, birds and bees even humans hidden… Continue reading .3 the rain
I wonder, wonder why such ugly people have to be so loud. It takes an elegant man to pipe down. Vulgar lives and vulgar wives leads to biting laughter and bellowing voice. It takes an elegant man for handsome tone hushed voices and angelic laughter. And yet the world is full of ugly creeps with… Continue reading .2 ugly bore
I’m sad. My heart feels empty. The stitches holding the rift in my heart have once again opened- opened wide. I want to be adored. I need someone to reapply the stitches, patch me back together. But i do have someone… why? Why do i feel so empty? Theres another girl. A girl? Well, she’s… Continue reading .1 sad