Wednesday, 16 November 2016

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 morning until two the next day. I fear for myself as always, tiptoeing into fragile territories, flirting with disaster. It comes with the territory when today marks the seventh job I have had in a span of three months. It is what I deserve; it is not what I expect mine life to have been. Still, the feeling of dread that the next few days take me has nothing compared to when the figurative tomorrow finally lands in Luton airport in December.

My existence had been feeling like a glass maze. I look forward to a straight line, only to crash face-first into an invisible blockage, and I need to navigate the maze with just my unorthodox way of thinking. The maze represents my journey, but the end is not at all that important. There is no happiness, no contentment, no light at the end of the tunnel. The journey keeps moving on. The intention is to make me realise that my journey, our journeys, are not actually ours to begin with, but only to peruse, until our times have passed. Like the supermoon that came to visit. The moon, in all its glory, came to say hello last night, and the night before last night, I suppose, from where I am from. Then it was lost so quick that it just showed itself for the purpose of tease. Like my life; my journey. There are days when I suffer and suffer hard an intense feeling of saudade, as the Portuguese speakers describe it. It is something that I cannot describe, but I know it is what I think it is. 

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Before Hell

Everything seemed rather perfect until it was not. Problem with decadence is having to go nowhere else but down, and now it seems to be the way where I am headed, but only short-lived, only because I cannot admit to myself that this was a little too soon.

Miriam will be arriving in less than three weeks, and that is all well and fine, but rather that spending her time from the get-go with me, she now finds herself locked up in this tug-of-war for her between me and the family.

So there will be more waiting game, I suppose, to uplift unenthused spirits from restless abandonment. My time will be forcefully occupied by the powers that be. Food is to be found and taken by my lonesome, with no thought or permission to be had. An apology coming from mine mouth is a lost and sad cause.

Wednesday, 9 November 2016

Age of Villainy

Past two night were perhaps the most comfortable I have graced thus far, despite in the past I have said never to dabble again in hostelsurfing (just because I had realised that spending all that money has not been all that worth it). Just I felt that it was an important occasion at this particular moment being that it had been so cold out in the open to the teeth. Squatting at my hedge (defensively begotten) in Hyde Park had been mostly deplorable. Almost impossible to conceive the struggle and difficulties of my days to days, and, despite having no beneficial returns and the prospect of losing advantage for the upcoming December charade, it was then that I felt compelled to return to my temporary accommodational relief. Besides, my work in Roundhouse for the Christmas runs will guarantee me a return here in the nearest future, so it might be best for me to just let it pass. It should not be as detrimental to my pockets if I pray the cards right.

So I woke up slightly groggy this morning, but better than the usual, having spent all of yesterday with la ragazza dei miei sogni on a Facebook marathon. It had been very common and typical days recently (with little to no effect on my person, save for a miscalculation a week ago on a certain predicament that led me to spending a bit more than necessary). Still, not as bad as the situation a few months ago, when I zeroed my bank account for a few hours' touch moments of morning sex. Never again. It was then that I knew I had fucked up thoroughly, jeopardising everything I had done previously over a fool's whim. Besides the groggy morning I had suffered, today had given me a renewed perspective about simple things that are otherwise thought of as mundane. While my ability to write had stagnated over the past few weeks, or months even, my desire to pull through this rut had overcome complacency and adversity and great vigour and ferocity had emerged in its stead. New inspirations have propelled me to revisit a familiar interest and my intent is to go along with it as it stands. Today marks a great new age for villainy. Donald Trump's emergence in the United States as its new head of state offers great opportunity, and a confirmation of my own deep desires to bring out what society deems difficult of me; Rodrigo Duterte's bid to improve the quality of life in the Philippines; and Miriam's imminent arrival. These are things that really mindstruck me recently, and perhaps take some time to poke into while I wallow into my own craven tirades. God knows I cannot wait to shaken the tailbottoms of my Murican brethren about Trump especially after making light of Britain's concern with regards to its departure from the European Union. But until then it might as well be that the machination of everyone I thought were different from mine were actually much closer than I deemed it to be.

Monday, 7 November 2016

E mi piaci per davvero

If, for some reason, she forgets,
life will find its way, when,
her heart ruminates, all,
that I have exhausted, to give,
to share, to shed, and feel,
life will find its way;

I am, and, will always be,
for you, mine Miriam,
the one I call mine own;

If, for some reason,
I happen to forget, slap me,
once, hard, to my face,
and tell me how it is,
that you have loved me
only then will I, due to the
circumstances with which
mine mind operates,
begin to ruminate,
the sweetness of your all;

There will never, ever and ever,
be, to me, after you,
someone like you;

Cloudy with a chance of starfall

Half past five in this early morning, somewhere near Elephant and Castle, shamed by the stench of mine cumbersome breeches. It had been too long since this garment was first met with mine skin. High time it should be replaced with something more alleviating, something more fresh, and something less toxic than mine own waste. Fortunately today is most definitely that day, if I get the will and energy to do so still later on. Once when daylight touches the tip of my crouching wanton eyes, caressing the luggage beneath it, hoping the muddy dark be washed away by simple liquid, away from the petals of the absent sun and hopeless cold. Plan is to revisit an old place of shelter, once thought to be mine acquaintance, but never lasted as hoped it would. Met no person of relevance to call a friend unlike that one called Clink save for one whom I tried to shake from memory just because his person became symbolic of mine very own misery. Him and I had some similarities in common, though you would never thought it be by the looks of our faces: the rivalry between our lives' conditions intertwined; the interest and desperation of wanting to be loved in a world of melodragic circumstance; and the joy and sadness of having hearts so glass. It had been long since our paths last mingled, and part of me hoped that that was last indeed. Mauritius was all that stayed in mine mind to remind me of him. His name deleted from mine conscious. But mention it once or twice and it will flood right back in.

I had seen him in another occasion just one time even after that one event. It was not so long ago, but long ago enough to remember that I still had a job back then. If not the night reception one I had with Ambassadors, then most definitely the floor runner one with Flora Indica. Both of which ended in a tragic mishap brought about by mine proclivity to run mine temper pedal to the metal. I was walking along that path in Hyde Park that connects straight from High Street Kensington to Bayswater and vice versa when Mauritius here appeared out of nowhere walking in the opposite direction having something in his hand that seemed to scream dodgy! without having asked. Had no time to spare to say hello, I barely liked the man. He tried to fuck a Polish girl with a funny name from a hostel I once was mates with, near a hedgeplace I used to stay somewhere within Belsize Park. Good neighbourhood, to say the least, but the experience of mine stay there was far from joyful. It was rather dull, almost dangerous, and expensive. This was before I quit hostel-hopping to settle in mine hedgehome at Hyde Park. Mauritius was gone, and that was it. The memory of him however lingers, and I cringe the thought of randomly bumping into him in the street wherever I went. Once he was symbolic of my fears, now he reminds me of this whole ordeal. A year full of shitters in the sack which I cannot hope to escape from. This whole fiasco of Mimi coming in a month's time is just a masquerade to add flavour to the ones I have lost when mine tongue was stuck in a pole before mine father tucked his cock to his ass and ran away. Nothing will change. It scares me. She does not deserved to fall into mine trap.

Hopefully later on today I get to speak to a person named Roberto whom I can negotiate with with regards to me and Miriam's living space for December. Last Friday was a busted chance due to the feels of the weather.

Mimi

Love the light that brights my day
those that swims that voice at bay
those that write the words I say
those that dims when she's away

Search and destroy