lalalabelle

Thoughts like these. Miles away per square inch is just a miniature of life there is, out there, in here, wherever.

The door screeches again, and as usual, I can hear their voices screaming. A glass falls, and he slices his finger accidentally. A child's heart pounds in each drip of blood from the sky. Yes, there are children masked in youthful clothing. But merely, they are blown off by the increasing modernity, and once in a while, they aren't kids anymore.

Times like these, dumb people talking about dumb people, smart asses smooching butts, what could be better?

He walks in and greets a mourning, "Wassup, nigga?"
And she expresses with disgust, " Better as hell sucka!"

Bravo! We are living in the 21st century!
Love it, hate it, this is the world we live in. I wonder who would change it as if he really cares about it. Whether for Global Warming or Politics, I don't really care. What matters is that, I can still live, eat, sleep, and wake up in the morning.

Sunshine's a little smile from heaven. And I can see a fallen angel reigning with his glorious masquerade from the clouds. I don't know him, but people say, he is a good man. He showers us life, and he brought forth power that is, more than power itself.

I've seen little and great men kneel before him. They love him. They love the way he use to wave a hundred towers over his head. They say, it's liberty, some the sun, others light. His eyes are as fierce as any other flame and his arms are as gentle as thunder and lightning. His wings are that of, night, that is cold, that is sleep. Nobody really sees him, and that's why I don't understand why they keep on keeping his coins without a spot.

He lives within his men and they are called "Legion". And I have no idea what's the rest of what will happen to me after mentioning that name.

Here lies a man beneath his kin. She sits next to him as she lays her eggs.She who is she. She who is usually, that of a woman. But she can also be a country, organization, or a group, whatsoever; while he, symbolizes man and one person. And how could this be such coincidence for sexist language? Or subliminal in historical context?

She who, accidentally poured uric acid unto water and then wipes it pure again. But those who followed her generation poured nightly ink again and again. And so did her men, and so did many.

And so he reigned. What a beautiful world. Give me a peace of mind.

Again Screaming and slamming of doors. The clock ticks as if angry. It said, " It's pass 2am, go get some sleep."

But still a person who is eager would ignore this.

She runs away, with her pen, then lonely to the soles of her feet.
Hesitates for a moment, then breathes in.

Didn't I tell you that I broke too many before? Those glasses, with blood dripping from my nails. Didn't you see those keys shattered on the floor like broken dreams I used to have before I tossed them to the river?

She replies a sigh. Then another, then another, again and again, over and over my head. Her voice,Her voice whispers, "let me in, let me in! Don't you see, I want you! Be mine!"




No one would answer - but the past who she regrets.




"Silence please!" Her heart cried.
This is not right,neither happening.

I don't know you, but I love you. The way you speak, treat me right, it makes me feel, makes me feel special. Then all of a sudden... This is some kind of a joke!

You were about to tell me that you want me.
You keep on saying things like you will absolutely have me.

But what is this.
You don't want it?

Girl weeps. Slowly blows the winter breeze. Its December mourn.
Young lady, what do you want this Christmas, a new dress perhaps?

She smiled then closed her eyes:
If anyone could please give me a dandelion clock, then there would be happiness in me.

It's not a direct answer.

It's even a question.

Do you know what she wants?



                         ~~~

This is the story many people had spoken of.
People meeting people. Anticipating, waiting for the moment.
Anybody is a prey for one another. Either to be satisfied nor content.
Eager, or disappointed.

What do you see? A happy ending?
No. This is just the beginning.

A little moment of winds and clouds in the sky sure tells me that this is a brand new day. It's not yesterday,but today, obviously. Then a bunch of memories from the past would flash over and over and over, every now and then. Sounds screaming. Buses chasing. Glasses breaking.
Then all of a sudden, a door screeching, light dazzingly shining.

Is there something one should really fear, rather than the past nor future? Maybe the present, which is always a surprise. Or the people who bring the thoughts into happenings.

Should there be a single idea one should hesitate of? Or wonder of?

Such instances could be revealing. Then, demeaning. We don't know what's wrapped in those presents, but future for all goodness sake that we don't know what's in it. So are we to guess always? Or pinch our minds just to figure it out?

Moments like these. When one is so unsure.

I am not alone.

This is a huge rubixan labrynth awaiting for retreat nor glory. And I am heading to its doors right now. Watch me, I'm gonna win. I am not failure.