UNDER THE STAIRS

As minutes walked on, deep pockets of sleep started at the back of my eyes, enlarging, expanding until they threatened my grip on reason and consciousness. My head felt so heavy upon my shoulders that I was doubtful if it was my head at all. It weighed a ton. It didn't occur to me how feeble my struggle was in the face of this enemy. This enemy who offered me a state of insensibility that seemed such a sweet escape to oblivion.  I was tempted. My eyelids were drooping down, obscuring my view of the tree and the front door. I was certain I just needed to know where they came.  Only then I could finally give in. yet, moments later, sleep already won over the self, leading me by the nose to some place different from the cold wall and top base of the stairs. My head was haphazardly tilted to one side, my lower back numbed to excess, my feet cold and my mind in anarchic disconnections. I was in a deep stupor and at the mercy of my dreams. In dreams, I have often known, lucidity was a lost, absent gift. 

 

In this space, I felt the wings of the wind, the rush it gave me as it ran against my skin, sprinting from my arms and legs.  And I wanted to run forever just to feel the exhilaration that it gives me. Yet in pseudo-reality, a perpetual black cloud of anxiety continued to hover overhead. There was no arousal of recognition, yet the air grew heavy with the weight of it. I turned then to see a pair of white birds. It seemed a normal sight, but my stomach began to churn nervously until a shot thundered through the air, shattering the idyllic atmosphere that had barely started to envelop the space. I squinted my eyes to see the trespasser. A huge, beefy man with a holster strapped to his side and a gun in his hand. He was laughing, letting out loud roars of hilarity that made me inexplicably angry. When I turned back to see what had befallen the love birds, I was stunned. The two were bleeding, but only one had an apparent wound. As I shuffled closer, I was inextricably amazed and a little afraid of what I saw. The wound was profusely bleeding, but the harmed creature seemed to feel no pain. Instead, one looked incredulously healthy as the other, except for the crimson spots on their once pristine feathers. You wouldn't even know they've been shot at. 

 

However, I noticed something different. There was a wicked gleam visible in their eyes – a nasty sheen of malice and viciousness, even making them shine brighter. They started poking each other, their sharp beaks digging deep, the webbed feet coming up in the air to kick and injure. It was vile. The attacks demonstrated a nauseating display of cruelty to the self and to the opponent. They were bathing in an obscene parody of love, except that their embrace spelled death and destruction. And everywhere they went blood spurted, turning the battlefield into a graveyard. The space obliterated any reminder of the living world and I felt like someone suffocating and drowning without a lifeline in sight.  A desperation seized hold of me, strangling my neck like a hangman's noose. I knew I should have stopped them. But I couldn't even trod near them until the battle reached a crescendo, and so I, in my blotched self trembled at the edge to await the victor. 

 

The space started to fall away. It was stripped layer by layer, pulled from the sides of my brain. I was blinking the mist of sleep from my eyes, trying to ascertain what had pulled me from my alternate universe. I stood up rubbed my eyes, walked across the room to sleep.

Unrequited Love

In reality, you’re the only one playing the game, hoping s/he would join you someday. 

Sometimes, no matter how much you try to make things happen, no matter how many chances you try to grab, no matter how much you try to win, things will not be the way you want them to.  Not because you are wrong of wishing, hoping, longing and waiting, but because in reality, it’s only you making the story, trying to end it happily.

When we fall in love, we fall real hard. We do anything to win our loved one’s heart. We accept the pain and smile even though we’re dying inside. We wish, we hope, we long, and we wait. But sometimes the wait it too long that we begin to wonder if our time is worth the wait, or if there’s really something to wait for to begin with.  And then it hits us.

Even more unfortunate are those who wait, wait, wait, wait yet their stories never start.

While the braver and the luckier ones have their whole lives to spend with the ones they truly love, there are those whose relationships that once worked out well just fail. And unfortunate as they may sound, they are still to be considered lucky, for while their relationships have turned sour, at least they were able to feel it, to be in it.

Was there any, really?

These people end up wondering what could have been had they done the other choice, and then they start asking, what was the other choice that could make them happy?

Sometimes, things are just exactly the way it seems. There’s nothing more than his/her glowing eyes staring at you, there’s nothing more than his/her hand holding you, there’s nothing more than his/her hug giving you comfort, there’s nothing more than his/her sweet words consoling you. Really, there’s nothing greater than friendship that s/he can offer.

You firmly believe that you can only feel that strongly for him/her and just the same, s/he will never find a greater relationship with anyone but you.. 

You decide to daydream until your face can no longer hold your plastered smile, then you snap back to the real world and as if you were back to step one, you can hardly accept the truth. You cannot gracefully admit that s/he’s not yours, and may never be. You insist that you have chemistry. Yet you decide to go on believing that miracle will happen

Hasn’t it been proven that sometimes, we have no choice, or rather, what we have are unrealistic choices?

But sometimes fate can be harsh. So many people have said it’s a matter of our choice.  So many people have claimed that we can reverse our fate. But hasn’t it also been evident that it’s not always the case?

And in reality, there was never really someone else in your life, but your own mind playing a prank you have yet to accept.

Libya & QADDAFI ...FACTS THAT CANT BE DENIED

1. There is no electricity bill in... Libya; electricity is free

for all its citizens.

2. There is no interest on loans, banks in Libya are

state-owned and loans given

to all its citizens at 0% interest by law.

3. Home considered a human right in Libya –

Gaddafi vowed that his parents

would not get a house until everyone in Libya had a

home. Gaddafi’s father has

died while him, his wife and his mother are still living

in a tent.

4. All newlyweds in Libya receive $60,000 Dinar (US$

50,000 ) by the government

to buy their first apartment so to help start up the

family.

5. Education and medical treatments are free in

Libya. Before Gaddafi only 25%

of Libyans are literate. Today the figure is 83%.

6. Should Libyans want to take up farming career,

they would receive farming

land, a farming house, equipments, seeds and

livestock to kick- start their farms

– all for free.

7. If Libyans cannot find the education or medical

facilities they need in Libya,

the government funds them to go abroad for it –

not only free but they get US

$2, 300/mth accommodation and car allowance.

8. In Libyan, if a Libyan buys a car, the government

subsidized 50% of the price.

9. The price of petrol in Libya is $0. 14 per liter.

10. Libya has no external debt and its reserves

amount to $150 billion – now

frozen globally.

11. If a Libyan is unable to get employment after

graduation the state would

pay the average salary of the profession as if he or

she is employed until

employment is found.

12. A portion of Libyan oil sale is, credited directly to

the bank accounts of all

Libyan citizens.

13. A mother who gave birth to a child receive US

$5 ,000

14. 40 loaves of bread in Libya costs $ 0.15

15. 25% of Libyans have a university degree

16. Gaddafi carried out the world’s largest irrigation

project, known as the Great

Man-Made River project, to make water readily

available throughout the desert

country.

In Shaa Allah my brother. 

Random Remix

Today, I caught myself trying to make a sense out of my being single for quite some time now. I was talking to one of my co-workers and I was doing my best to explain to her why I am still single. I told her that I'm having a hard time falling for someone these days, or even like someone for more than a month.

A friend of mine tried his best to let his thoughts out about it. Of course some of them were right but we ended up just looking at each other and then we burst into laughter. I finally figured it out that no one knows why. I used to be aggressive, trusting. Things have changed though. I no longer see myself as that person. I was telling this friend I can't even remember how it felt like to be in a relationship; how it's like to have someone special in your life, how couples survive a night without dead air, what they do to keep themselves entertained; how a kiss felt, how a simple hug of affection can make things different, how they keep things going, how they make it work.

I sat down. Stood up. Walked around. Sat again. I practically went everywhere. Is it fate telling me I'm not yet ready? Is fate telling me I've learned from my previous relationships and I've had enough of the "crap"? Have I become selective, or was I just traumatized with my past heartaches? I am not exactly sure myself. All I know is that I deserve better and I'm just contented with what I have right now. I'm happy and I don't need a man.

Answers to this can be very elusive and at the same time confusing. You can never have a solid thought about this because in a minute, you can change your mind and your heart. I really wish I know the answers because fate can be very tricky. Sometimes it's good but unfortunately, not at all times. Fate can be cruel and mean. Fate can make you feel like a total waste of space. But when fate is nice to you and you're lucky enough, it makes you feel like you're always home. Like you have found that missing piece; that one jigsaw puzzle piece you have been searching all along. Sometimes, it can be in a form of a person you fell in love with. But it can also be the simplicity of knowing that it's all about waiting. And appreciating what you have and not minding about what you don't have.

After a couple of minutes, I sat down beside another good friend of mine and we discussed the same thing. I heard the same response! She told me it's probably because I still haven't found someone who just doesn't make me feel "kilig" inside but someone who has a unique connection with me. A connection no person can make. And as cliché as it goes: a spark. Only fate gives us that. And I agree.

Also, I've always had that notion that I'd marry early, have kids and a happy family, having my career on the side and my family coming first. That's before I learned the true essence of love and relationship: that love isn't always the good stuff, it's about compromise and acceptance, and being ready for pain and sacrifice, which is never easy.

I also learned that TRUE LOVE means not going to a battle alone. I believe fate is what brings true love to two people. When fate decides it's time, whoever you are, whatever you are, that's it. And that your FAITH in FATE is something that always gives you that spark of hope of finding exactly what you are looking for.

The Anatomy of My Music

To play him like a cello:

set him form first between my knees

allowing my fingers to gently
caress his smooth surface,

the shine of his skin proving to be
a sign

of careful attention.

I imagine the music I will make
with him,

first hearing it on some distant
wind

before committing it to reality.

My hands trace his curves like the
sides of the cello–

stroking from slender neck

over soft yest strong shoulders and chest

past the dip of torso to linger at
his waist,

savoring the texture of flesh like
the grain of wood.

It is then that I bring my hands to
his shoulder blades,

palm sliding down his spine
languorously,

bowing him back,

strumming the first notes of pleasure
from him.

His spine becomes the strings and
frets and chords

and I play him like a cello–

finely tuned and longing to rise to
the challenge

of fulfilling his potential.

There is a deep fire in the song of
ecstasy he plays;

low sonorous moans reaching my ears

driving me to increase my skill for
making music.

I slide my body further down

keeping my living instrument
between my thighs,

my hands pressed to the curve of
his hips

and my mouth becomes the bow my
fingers were;

lips playing tender kisses down
invisible strings

tongue gliding up the spine

from tailbone to the nape of his
neck

and back down again.

My mouth

his body

and the music we create with his
eager flesh

The Ex Hate Mails as posted on Myspace (first of the bunch)

Dear babycakes,


Me good guy. You bitch. Me tired of your fat cunt. Me don’t like your meat curtains. Me suffering from sinusitis because you have a fish taco in between your legs. Me don’t like it anymore. me don’t feel anything. Me feels inadequate. Me have low self esteem because your cunt is too loose. Me tired of you stealing $20 all the time. Me damaged after seeing you pee standing up. Me don’t want to hang on to your boobs. Me just want to be asexual. me just want to try new things. Me want to fuck a hermaphrodite. Me an emotional cripple. Yes, this is all about ME now. Now you, go away.

Peace out,

John

p.s. I want my porn collection back.

Pique Me

You'd expect it to happen
Not in the open, but in a shower, perhaps,
Where boys and beauty settle down together
As seed does to soul, water to skin, silently,
Without ceremony, under one's very breath
Boys are too beautiful to let live
I get randy just thinking it
I cannot tell exactly how it starts
As though moments before I am overcome
By some devilish scheme: a puppet
With strings for life. My heart rushes
Up my throat, poised as though ready to burst
In my mouth. My eyes smear everything a brilliant
Crimson and I see the screeching of skin
Feel the music of bones snapping in my hands
Or grinding against my teeth
Or sometimes I just swish a blade, and push it
Through an artery wound like rope around a neck
Squirting, a bloody rainbow opens like a fan
People around see and are struck simply
By such murderousness, like the old woman
In church, who bequeathed tissue paper
To wipe my lusty face with. I bring my own
Thank you, twirled softly around a kitchen knife
I am possessed of so much love
Enough for all those boys to stay warm in
Instead, the bloodbath is always cold and sweet
But even I am growing tired of this constancy
And end up asking boy after butchered boy
Having killed countlessly
Did I really possess you all?

*Ah don't you just LOVE life and all its perplexities. You meet a lovely lady, quite intriguing, she offers herself...very accommodating...you tell yourself she has the softest looking pair of tits you have ever seen...but of course, she is quite more than ample set of bosoms...she smiled...you move slightly closer to give her a kiss and you turned your back and make a mental note that you have been the dumbest of all fuckwits alive...you really should consider drunk driving...

How a bout a really lovely man. You know you are doomed the moment you saw him. And the man isn't just capable of making himself adorable, the man is also funny and isn't living under a rock for centuries...after a couple of conversations with him you realized he is not just a man...he is a fuck worthy man...God, you wish he would refrain from talking cause you are starting to run a rated R movie in your head...but no...you should stop yourself since you were, and still are, a poster girl for refined, poised and chaste Catholic girl. But you cant help yourself since the last time you did the unthinkable was three years ago (August 28, 2006) and you want to conk your head each time you were reminded of it...telling yourself...ah well, i know why it is called the forbidden fruit! Argh!So you grab that alcohol bottle and force yourself to a cold shower...with the hopes that the pill you just popped is strong enough to knock you out until Christmas.