Skip to main content

Exodus Paranoia

The fire started in a distance, his bones crackled with every step, while the voices of the spirits made no effort to attract. It was a new breed of terror seeping in, haunting the chemicals in the air, undulating with discrete strength. It's time, a girl's whispers coming from an unseen source. It's time for us to feel the joy again.

Joy, what a simple word with a mischievous intent. What joy can there be in spreading fear amongst all men's hearts? Their mouths ashen with malice. Who is to feel the joy when joy easily turns tragic? Like dancing naked during summer in a barren iceland. These beings of pure dementia, these harbingers of lunacy, of degradation, of shallow emotions, of cradles filled with fucking filth. Burn the witches. This world deserves a better definition of joy.

Whatever the world will be, it will simply be, but I cannot allow myself to sit idly by whilst this pieces of humongous scum, of torturous and inhumane scumbaggery, of fiddly fucking monstrosity gallop nonchalantly on my streets to wag their phallic heads around like a ten-pence prostitute.

Not on my watch.

The fire should start again -- this time somewhere safer. And let it be known that I will be there to foresee through it all. I am the omega of their plans, their watcher in the dark, the omniscient guardian of truth, of true joy and honour, of love and sadness. Let them see me for who I really am. An angel of pure bliss. The zen to their chaotic reverse. We live in a land with so much potential. I make it all possible with a drop of a single word.

I am love and I am life. None shall cause darkness so long as I stand against it.

Popular posts from this blog

And then...

Four hours and ticking and I cannot seem to be copacetic to the privacy of her suspicious absence. How could I be when frightening tremors had shook their country just earlier today? It has been quite common to read about earthquakes rocking Italy recently, and the more these events take place, the more people feel less surprised about the fatalities. At the moment, I can sit on this chair being bothered by Starbucks personnel every half an hour or so, waiting for updates of Miriam's whereabouts. Surely she would be safe. I suppose my fears always come back to bite me in my arse. This is a farcry from mine fears. Far be it from the truth, I will not let it tear me asunder. She will be back to me soon enough, and then it would not take long before she will be in my arms, singing praises of our love, beneath the starry sky and our duvet. There is this unusual feeling of dread knowing that tomorrow I will be once again immersed into a job that I do not love; a return to form; of bei…

Strange Fruit

I had recently adorned a vow of silence for myself with Miriam for no apparent reason whatsoever other than to suit my whim, and, regardless of the pettiness associated with this misdemeanour, I pray this will only strengthen us both in spirit for the coming days. The coming days are definitely not meant for one such as me.
In the next few hours, not shortly before I am done with this piece, this vow will be disavowed. Miriam is sleeping soundly in my right, broken by the exhaustion that seemed to catch her unaware. This was not what she had prepared for when coming to London. This was not what I meant for her when I asked her to come. In order to alleviate the guilt of me making it more difficult for us both, I do what it is that I do best, and that is to love her hungrily and wildly. And some little bit of swag on the side to cure her state of frustration albeit temporarily.
My days are long and yet wields very little. For now I do and take whatever I can, whenever I can. A grand f…

Uff

Call it a burning desire to urinate on the system that we as people have established; status quo. Felt a huge fluctuation of anxiety when I finished this day earlier than what I would have thought or expected, and it was technically my first day of job (again), and huge surges of this same rhetoric came pouring back in when Miriam and I have not been having proper back-and-forths since yesterday. It was as if we had lost interest with one another just like that. Either that or I have been consumed by the same system of dependency. The bug that I caught long ago that ruined me to smithereens.
The long-winding hours, that which I felt was necessary, was to be a time of reprieve and a time to catch breath. It turned out to be much more toxic that it should be, and it came to pass faster than it should and I now feel poisoned and abused by the thought of having allowed this in the first place. Tomorrow is what I would consider a real test of my endurance, when I work from seven in the mo…