Addiction Blogpost#11

I know you’ve asked me this before, and I’ve always had the same answer for you. It’s riddled in uncertainty with a pinch of all the good things Professor Utonium added into the Power Puff Girls, served at the right amount of warmth. She gives me a feeling of comfort that’s unmatched even by my favourite blanket. I’m a simple person, I admire and crave her in very primal ways. Her scent, her taste, her warmth, her hair, and most importantly, her eyes. Fucking galaxies are long lost in them and the feeling of completeness is very often felt around her. It’s like she’s the moon orbiting my earth, the pull I need to get my axis in the right place. Always around, always mine. Just the way I prefer, my lovely little secret addiction.

Stranger Blogpost#10

We have all experienced our fair share of what “strange” is. often described as the unexplainable or uncommon, strangeness lurks amongst us everywhere. strangeness is often associated with normality and i once read a quote that kicked my world off axis, a thought provoking few words combined together to question everything that we believe is normal. “what is normal for the spider is chaos for the ant”.  you could ask yourself where the boundaries of normal lies but how much ever you push those boundaries towards the supernatural, you cannot experience my experience as normal. 

a stranger came into my life as a visitor. i wasn’t so easy on noticing it but eventually my perception wasn’t willing to ignore the phenomena anymore and that was the first reveal. imagine you and another friend of yours are casually spending time in your house, doing the things you like doing and talking the things you like talking. everything seems normal but it isn’t so when you start noticing the strangeness in your friend. why is he acting strange? you don’t know. you can’t even put a finger on how he is out of the ordinary. perhaps it only came clear to you when he entered into the room once again. and this time, there’s two of your friend. you, him and him again, that makes it three. 

you’ve noticed the odd number in the room and now you’ve got your friend staring right at you. which one? the one that’s been in the room talking to you for the past twenty minutes. now you don’t know whose real anymore but don’t worry. your stare seems to make him fade into the shadow. what do you feel now? relaxed because there’s only two of you in the room or confused because one of them became a shadow?

spirits often visit us to spend some time as they are casted out their mortals shells to live an eternity in loneliness. strange isn’t it? they’d argue its only normal. 

you are deeply taken by the incident that took place before your very eyes and you have an itching thought in the back of your head that it’s probably just a hallucination. yeah, you’re probably being delusional and it’ll all go away once you wash your face. and you’re going to the bathroom to do just that and it takes you around five minutes to finish. you feel refreshed and you go back to your friend but you were late, your friend has already found company which he appears to be enjoying, you. no, not you, the other you. 

how would you feel if you saw yourself in the room talking to you friend? i was there and it felt normal. why? because they seemed to be doing the things i love doing and talking about the things i love talking about. i suddenly felt like the stranger in the room. however, it was short lived as i looked into my own eyes and i felt the other me slowly fade away into the shadows once again. 

to this date, i question what is normal because the stranger played a better me than myself. 

Waves Blogpost#9

Snippet from my previous work.

..- I remember that morning, the day it happened. Began like any other morning, honestly. I felt her soft lips press against my cheek as her fingertips ran through my unkempt hair. With eyes barely open, I smiled at her as I overheard the tides clashing against each other and settling by the shore. My eyes were stuck with the premature sunlight and I whispered just one thing by her ear, “five more minutes, baby.” She pulled the sheets from under me like the tides pull you into the water, I couldn’t resist letting out a soft chuckle as I lazily slid off the bed and onto my feet. Looked out the open window to see its already past nine, I could always tell time by looking at the sun. As usual my morning rituals happened in order and I head out afterwards to the shore, gripping my surf board close to my underarm. I heard her calling me from afar, I looked over my shoulder to see her waving to me, saying “Hey be careful okay! The tides are looking a little rough today!” to what I responded with confidence, “Today is just perfect!” It wasn’t, that day marked the first day of the rest of my life. The new life, eyes open to the reality and its movements. 

I took my turn, broad strokes and parting waters as I swam further into the sea. The waves were a little rough but I drove headstrong. Dipping every way, avoiding every clash and gliding smoothly along until I laid eyes on a monstrous wave heading my direction, I was foolish to even think I should attempt it. But, this is my destiny, that wave was written for me as I was to awake that day. I had fortified my mind and decided to go all in, as usual I took on the wave and transitioned smoothly into its trough. I felt the wave’s current on my fingertips as I went into what surfers call the “water hole of life”. I had felt alive, but it was short spanned. I lost balance due to the uneven amplitude of the wave and the crest swallowed me whole. I was engulfed by the trough as the wave settled over me and I went under. There was something with the waters that day, a surfer like myself should’ve been able to handle going under but the waters kept pulling me further.  -..

Guests Blogpost#7

I’m an anxious person, especially during those last few hours I prepare for the guest dinner.

The gang had been planning to gather at my place one fine Saturday night, I was excited to share my taste in food with the ones I’ve shared an epitome of my life with. My colleagues are probably the only people I’ve been so constantly in contact with. It’s weird as I’ve always been told that they’ve never really gotten along with their work mates and only around the occasions. I feel like I fit into the group and I was longing to sit by the table to share a meal. Everyone’s got a different taste but I’ve fine-tuned to balance out the flavorings severed. Starting from how green the celeries are to be and the garnish scent that floods the nose, always brings me a smile. Out of all senses, the sense of taste is the strongest. The most pungent of smells cannot compete with the euphoria a mouthful of delicious food can do.

And there I stood as the clock ticked closer to eight, crafting a masterpiece in the kitchen. Spice after spice, slice after slice, I let Mozart’s symphony flood my kitchen. I could almost picture the perfection.  The shortcut to cooking is non-existent; your efforts will be valuable. As for me, I’ve had a much reserved sense of flavor and been fond of handpicking what reaches the table, especially the meat. I’ve ensured every slice of potato and every drop of wine is of perfection. All that went through my mind while picking out that ’78 Cornac was how it’ll blend with the meat and my special seasoning.

Performing the last few touches to the meal, the doorbell rang for its first time in a while. I’ve never been a social person, I’ve barely had guests or even interactions for that matter. But it rang and one by one, I greeted my colleagues with a charismatic smile. The way Stephanie’s eye batted as she picked up the aroma from my kitchen was enough to satisfy my mind. All seven of them have come to my humble little home to share their minds for a vivid experience. Wine poured, small talk exchanged and knives set by the table, everything was ready. Exclamations and excitement were conveyed as soon as they started on my meal. I sat by in silence, enjoying the beauty of what I’ve given creation to. That is when Paul brought up the fun question, “Where is Tracy?”, oh little did Paul know, Tracy had already been here before the six arrived. I smiled away at the question with a shrug of my shoulders and the crowd responded the same. Tracy was the main course.

Victim Blogpost#5

What is experience? Being in the present.

I was present at the time, the night it happened.

Assumptions of isolation were uncalled for as I am omnipresent.

A witness to the crime, a loose end you cant tie.

I am a never ending experience, I am the third person who observed.

The act of taking a life, shunned upon by religion and morals.

Yet, the gun went off and so did the casing. Piercing through flesh like butter;

He fell. Fell along with the casing, meeting together at the finish, me.

I felt his weight lean against me as the gun howled into the murky skies.

Loud enough to wake the neighborhood and all the life around.

Her first reaction was human, her second was a common mixture of instinct and fear.

She ran, ran into the night, further and further away from me.

Further away from the victim and the witness, leaving him to bleed.

Bleed onto me, smearing me with the vitals of every human. 

Slowly fading into the great dreaming, to join his lost loves. Oncoming death.

The more she advanced away, the more I felt his weight.

I became his last touch, he would no longer experience after death.

She ran but the moon overheard the approach, the ever seeing moon glanced.

Glanced upon her with a frown. Creation being killed. I wasn't the only witness.

The skies, the birds, the animals, the trees. She gave no regard and sprinted.

I remained in the distance, watching her fall out of my sight.

Holding onto the victim and the casing, the evidence of murder.

But what was I doing? Nothing. Apart from experiencing helplessness in potency.

I was unable to move a finger, struck in trance of what I experienced.

Unable to help, unable to move and unable to utter a single cry for help.

Unable, unable. That word described me at present.

He was dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do about it.

I yearned for help, I wept without shedding a tear.

My prayers were answered by the sirens of an ambulance rushing towards me.

Perhaps they can still save him. But I couldn’t.

Why? Because I’m just a street it happened on that night.

A murder happened and I am 22^nd street.

A witness to the crime, holding onto the victim with blood pooling around me.

I was a victim as well that night, a victim to helplessness. 

Beach Blogpost#4

the other day I stood at the shore
the gentle breeze caressing against my cheek
the tides clashing rocks settled by the lighthouse 
the seagulls passing overhead in flocks
sharing the tale of the land long lost
i could feel the sun's warmth brushing against my shoulders
my toes sunk into the muddled sand
i smiled at the feeling of earth under my feet
i felt connected to the mass, strong
my mind was at peace
it was as if the waves washed away my sorrows
i overheard someone calling me from afar
but i wasn't paying attention to it
i achieved serenity
the ambiance was beautiful but the heat had me feeling a little hot
i wanted the waves to kiss my base
my calling felt closer, yet i didn't pay attention
i took a step forward into the water
i took a step into nothingness
disconnected from the world, my shoe stuck adrift
i couldn't move as i was held
held against my will to transcend, to float away
i felt a strong grasp around my wrist, winching me back
back into my sorrows
i shut my eyes as i inhaled sharply
only to open them to find myself on the rooftop edge
ten stories up
but i could still feel that breeze
oh so soothing.

Monster Blogpost#3

And there I lingered, staring at the insides of my palms. Muddled with blood and sand in an unfamiliar mixture. And as I gazed onto the asphalt I sat on, I saw the shadow of a monster, flickering under the weak streetlamp. I wasn’t alone, the stench of blood flooded my nose, rising from the lifeless remains of everyone around me. The beam of light emitting from the rushing car reached me quicker than the faint noise of a speedy engine making its way towards me. Aghast from the beast I’ve transitioned into, I exhaled sharply, hoping it would be my last, awaiting the vehicle to run over me and end my misery. But no, I was nowhere close to my end. 

I looked up at Luna staring down at me with a sneer, sitting still between the million stars of the desolate dark murky sky. The tires screeched into a stop and I overheard footsteps rushing towards me. I simply let go, fading out into my thoughts as a swift blow of metal struck against the back of my head. I succumbed to the pain and my face brushed against that same unfamiliar mixture of blood and sand. In my forced musing, I recollected the actions of a horror, they felt so real, especially the helpless wailing. A jolt of electricity ran through my system, my eyes glared open with a cry for help. I woke up to find myself trapped in an enclosure. I was on display like an exotic winter bird. My weak heart rushed in panic, but there was nothing I could do. On all fours, I crawled away from the spectators until metal supported against my spine. I had to do something, but they were all watching me silently. Each had an impeccable taste in clothing, and have an inviting, commanding demeanour that transfixes onlookers. The longer I remained, the more I examined and studied about their appearance. The commanding figure gestured a subtle nod and that instant, my eyes were prematurely struck with a bright blue light, radiating from the tubes hovering over my enclosure. 

The light allowed me a better view at everything present ahead, they had serpent tattoos exposing from their collars and I noticed multiple ancient glyphs across the blank white walls around the room I was kept in. As I swayed my gaze from one shoulder to other, I came to realisation that I wasn’t the only animal on display. There were multiple enclosures with frail bodies in them, ragged clothes and disappointment. But I was the latest, it was clear from the numbered gathered around. A hunch of instinct whispered in my ear, a strange noise kept howling. There was something odd about the place we were in, it didn’t seem right. I built up the courage to addressing the large frame seated in the enclosure besides mine. I asked him where I was, shocked by the unexpected answer, much stronger than the electric one I received earlier. I was on a plane, along with the rest of them. But why? I belong in Sharm el-Sheikh. As I was about to share the question with the same man, he spoke first, asking me to pray because that’s the only thing that’s the only hope for us. I sank into my thought, nervous and powerless. They had projects for the lot of us, at the time I didn’t know what. 

Hours of starvation and uncertainty later, the hold doors opened right after the plane had jerked into a clean landing. It was pitch black outside, as expected. The suits walked the ramps to examine our conditions, along with white coats who did all the basic check-ups. Those who didn’t comply were met with electric shocks. Their techniques worked, we were all too weak and refrained from resisting, we complied with the simple steps and our enclosures were moved. I got glimpses of an unfamiliar barren desert that stretched out as far as my eyes could see, joining itself with the pitch black firmament. Luna remained, watching over us all but it wasn’t the same night. White sheets were thrown over our enclosures and I could tell the lot of us were being loaded into another form of transportation. Exhausted and powerless from the constant travel, I dozed off into another one of my nightmares. In some ways, the imaginary entities kept me company in this horror I was part of. 

We were captives, as simple as it sounded. The followers manipulated us and took control, forcing us to comply with their needs and standards. We were given just enough nutrition to remain viable, merely. They siphoned our blood and along with that, our hopes. Other inmates had a hard time complying with their wishes and the followers shared a message by decapitating one of the lot and left his deceased remains in the cell for a short while, the message was clear. We didn’t know when the days end or the nights began but they kept returning at fixed intervals like we were cattle. A farmer coming to get his daily collection of product. This continued for an epoch of my young life. A life I was living for the requisites of another. Time passed and I woke up one night to the sounds of my enclosure being opened. It felt like a surprise as it has never happened before. I whimpered, welcoming my death. But no, I was nowhere close to my end. When I looked around, I wasn’t placed in the same room as the other captives. I was in another. I couldn’t recall when I was moved but I didn’t care. There was a dark touch to the room, paintings and glyphs on the walls. Serpents and all, Followers of Set. 

Three stood in front of me, gesturing me to approach in the subtlest manner. Without a clue of what was positioned up for me, I complied like a coward because I wasn’t ready to die that night. My frail body dragged itself closer to them, I mumbled a silent prayer as that large man’s words echoed through my head. My focus was on the commanding figure, the two by his side slowly faded into nothingness. I wasn’t concerned, I was simply unsure of the situation. He conveyed in a familiar Arabic dialect, informing me that my life was going to change. I simply stood there while I felt strong grasps around my body, holding me down with immense strength even thought I was weakened. The Setite leaned in and grasped hold of my hair, swaying my face away as he exposed his slithering tongue. The very instant it made contact upon my skin, I felt a chill trickle down my spine. He soon sank his fangs into my neck and I transitioned into a state of euphoria. Something I have never experienced in all my years. I was in bliss, enjoying the happiness flood my system. I let my thoughts take control and hallucinations clouded over me.There I sat, welcoming my death. 

Awoken in another room with clear visions of my past. I saw my friends beside me, even my mother. What have I become? A slave? Cattle? I don’t know. I lowered my sights onto my ragged clothes and felt an alien sensation taking control, flooding my system. Was I still the same? I wondered what I had woken up to. I nodded to the conclusion I made, I was dead and this is all just my conscience transitioning into the other world where there are no living. I was wrong. It was just a dream. I felt an excruciating pain, forcing me to wake. I was nowhere close to my end.

 I transitioned to the worse, I felt thirsty. I raised myself on all fours and my snout picked up the scent of someone else in the room. My tail swayed to the side as I pivoting around, narrowing my gaze towards the chained sleeper at the dark corner. I wasn’t locked in here with her, she was locked in here with the monster. Her fair skin tone and blonde hair was something to stare at but I had primal urges clawing my brain from side to side. Screaming commands at me. I did as the voices said and I quenched my thirst. In anger of what I’ve become, I tore her like a feral beast with my claws. Her blood sprayed against the glyphs on the walls. Who was she? I don’t know. But at the time, I didn’t care. She was my water, she was my bread. I calmed myself down as my system relaxed and curled up into a ball on the cold tile floor, appalled of myself. 

My sharp senses overheard the doors open, I was greeted by the same commanding figure. His lips curled into a smile as he laid sights on me, satisfied of what I’ve become. He asked me to rise and led me out of the room, I took another moment to recall what I did to the lifeless corpse in the corner and stepped out.

“Alas, I’ve succeeded once again. 

Now, you’re ready to carry out my task. 

I have much planned for you, you are to travel far away from where we stand. 

Make yourself useful to us. He will talk you through the process.

Do not disappoint, you’ll be watched. 

I detest seeing efforts put to waste.” - xx