Skip to main content

Five alive

The armoured casing of the dynamic abstractness was showcased during the exhibition. There was no other competition other than a few petty challengers who wished to pay tribute to nostalgia; it was not even worthy of mention.

Five canvases were rolled neatly into the walled cement. These were the ideals they were looking after and looking out for. There was a distinction between these two opposing marks.

One was of the contemporary sort. Au naturel. Not much going on except the obvious. There was no apparent flaw except everything and nothing. There was no right and there was no wrong. Anything made everything godly repulsive. The paradox of creation, which in itself is the essence of life.

The second was more attractive in terms of attention to detail. The Spanish dilemma. El conquistador. The one that got away. The thing that kept the fire burning, and due to that burned on in itself. It brought demise upon its own with its unflattering wave of tensions that were a bit too much for its own good. It was a lost cause for a just intention. Thus began melancholia as a breeze of fresh air.

Third involves the juvenile state of schizophrenia. Asperger. With its limited empathy towards the concrete, it desires its 'own' however much you define it. This twisted dark imagery is a torrent of ideas that come gushing through towards the abysmal oesophageal tract of the fragile state of mind. It devours the common denominator among all of its prey; physical clumsiness.

The next one was a special rite in its own right. The traditional poetic. The type of which is aspired for. The one that demands strict inspiration to culprit. This one, Sensitivo. Not much to say about it except that the colour and shape of each strokes are so meticulously planned that the overbearing emotion that strikes its view is left to wonder how such a marvel became so stale in the process. In such a sad description, I wonder how long a time this madness will this innocent victim will suffer. A short and painful death, I reckon.

Monochrome. The incomplete full set, they say. Such joyful impact you deliver, such passion and endless reasoning flow through me like water from ink. You are doomed from the start. Noir has long been ageing and dying. You are not part of the exception. You are the epiphany to say we are and will continue on struggling.

Popular posts from this blog

Snippet: In her darkest days, Elaine (worldbuilding), unfinished

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though, Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail.
"This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us both…

Unprayer

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…