Stench

I, can't quite fill this space right now. For a reason, this few days has been unexplainable. The things I've been doing, the way it's being done, the way I conduct myself.

I still am baffled as to how easily I learn new things about myself. In dire situations I tend to have a mirror constantly in front of me. Maybe I'm just frgettin' the things' I've learnt about myself, maybe I'm just developing more dimensions in me. I just think, this is me. And I'm learning more and more about myself.


This memory thing is killin' me. Cause it keeps failing me when I need it most. It makes me feel hopeless, disgusted, and easily manipulated.

And my eyes really have been open; There are scums on Earth who would do anything to make you doubt yourself, to get their desired outcome. I just think it's disgusting, as much as it is a fact of life. And to have trust in oneself is essential, yet it can look bad.

Poisoned thoughts; Dig a grave.


I don't know. This whole place is screwed up. This whole fuckin' world's a mess. This town's a dirty back-alley shithole. I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't have anyone but myself. I can't lose this, I can't afford to lose it.

Cause I'll be left with nothing. And a man with nothing is no man at all.

Evaporate Sun

I, am the consequence of my own actions. I, create this person through the consequences of my own actions.


It's sometimes a blessing, I feel, when you can be told of your mistakes. And not just told, but to have it pointed out to you. It truly is a blessed thing to have.

I, for one, am not that very blessed in that aspect. Often, I learn of my mistakes through bitterness of relationships. It's the "point of no return" kinda bitterness.

To say that I am oblivious to these "mistakes" I make isn't fair. The understanding I have in me knows it's impossible to be honest about everything. After all, even censorship does exists in the highest form of human bonding.


I've always faced this issue. My moral dilemma, so to speak. Of course, I am quite intuitive, yet this intuition is always greeted with insanity. More of, me declaring myself insane. The naivety I have can be quite astonishing. You'd figure, after going through situations so frequently I should be able to pick out signs of distress easily. I do, yet, this experience in me doesn't help ebb away the brutal naivety I have. It's like, this naivety is locked up in a box in me, and while this box is in contact with my mind, it can only transmit and not receive. It can only produce, and not degenerate.


It's a big part of me, this what I'm facing. And I'm at times envious of the fortunate ones who gets their mistakes told to them. I wished I at times had that opportunity, to be told off and explain my actions. Unfortunately I'm not, as lucky. I'm not moaning my luck, cause it's just the way things are with and around me.

Maybe I chose this. This, hard way of living. You are the consequence of your own actions. You create that person through the consequences of your own actions.

The Purplish Type

The unmovable objects; Subjects of lust, desire. Hunger.

The anger within builds. Laughter, not like what it used to be, both in quantity and in sublimity.

To tell, say, that the topic of discussion is not up for debate, is basically tying your hands so tightly it winds up around your neck to turn you blue. Blue, as in the colour of death; The purplish type.


What do you know, what I'm going through. Cause I'm putting myself through a lot of trouble, unnecessary, in the eyes of some. The dangers of my life have no boundaries. Yet, I think it is the way I want to live, to a certain extent, of course. I cannot inhibit the ideas in me which are bursting at the seams of my skull. I cannot hide the true thoughts I have in me. Cause these voices, they've always been around. Lurking, in every dark nook and cramped cranny.

The end, is near. A new beginning awaits. A one where, hopefully, isn't the colour of death; The purplish type.