Tuesday, July 19, 2011


I've just found out my childhood lover is a porn actor.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Burned her so much.

i loved her, i used her, i kissed her, could have abused her. she hugged me, about to bite me, would stare at me, with lost eyes, of how she liked me. i touched her, i felt her right there, so we'd hide, move away for a quickie in a rush. so much i love her, oh gosh i love her so much. her smell of sweat, her acid breath and shit, her laugh so loud, so bitchy, that itches on my dick. her hair so messy, so dirty that blonde on my cheek. those hands so naughty, so fucky, won't wanna remember it. oh shit i love her, i love her, i love her so much. and she loves me, she licks me, she sucks me, she thrusts. and tomorrow, tomorrow, won't have her anymore. in fire she'll be, right there, along with my trunk. just because i loved her, i loved her, i loved her too much. and she was lovely, so lovely, so bitchy when she was drunk.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Motherfockers Can Die.

ima write about her. oh yeah hell, ima tell everyone, ima write about her.
it was a day when birds could fly, children could cry, roses were shy, knots would untie, and motherfuckers could die.
she woke up like everyday, like she was, like every one is, yeah. teeth brushing, face washing, breakfast eating, backpack hanging, door slamming. and they woke up like everyday, like they were, like everyone, like brushing their teeth, washing their faces, eating their breakfasts, hanging their backpacks, slamming their doors.
but then she got there. sardine can bus, like their sardine can bus, step by step, like they did, step by step, then that fucking gate.
entering school, entering future, entering hell. it was names calling face slapping body pushing to the ground falling. it was if you tell em ima beat you fucking up after class.
it was being observed in class, hearing whispering, hearing laughing getting hit by fucking little spat paper balls. it was hearing her name out loud, making jokes, everybody having fun, under her own name, given by her parents through the hand of god.
she was shaking she was fearing she was not understanding. she was wondering why why why, why can birds fly, why can children cry, why can roses be shy, why can knots untie but why can't motherfockers die. why couldn't they just let her live, what the fuck did she have wrong, how the hell in this world can someone be normal, why is everyone normal but me.
this was everyday.
and she'd go home and cry cry cry. she was so young, this phase of her life was so important for her personal and social development but her day-by-day couldn't just normally pass by.
she tried, she tried, she tried, she tried making others understand she was just a regular person, so huge, so complex, so beautiful inside, so inspired, so talented, so gorgeous, so herself. but all of her was made fun of, was beaten up, was spat on. was spat on... was fucking spat on.
this was how she wanted to die.
but she didn't.
she once woke up like everyday, like everyone, teeth brushing, face washing, breakfast eating, backpack hanging, door slamming. she got there, sardine can bus, then step by step, then that fucking gate. entrance to school, entrance to the future, entrance to hell.
her hands were shaking her heart was beating her breath was missing her eyes were crying her proud was growing.
she pulled the fucking gun out her backpack, thank goodness her dad had it loaded and shot the first ranked motherfucker in the head. they screamed and ran around they panicked who the fuck are u gonna make fun of now, and shot the second in the butt, third in the arm didnt kill him but killed the fourth in the freaking chest. bullet here, bullet there, she killed six.
she was grinning but she was crying but she was releaved, those ain't gonna make her live hell now. blood was shed, made her proud.
today, finally, she said to herself "as a bird i can fly, as a child i can cry, as a rose i can be shy, as a knot i can untie, and as motherfuckers, these can die".
then she was sent to correction house.

Friday, October 1, 2010

To My Muse

I can only write in delirium. Such a state of mind which activates you, my inspiring muse, my breathing, my living, my torture, my gun. A pleasant desperation, a pleasant pain. You're the best of me. You make me. You know who you are.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Around a Gown

I'm going round and round and round and round and around and around and around and around. I've got a name I ain't a noun ain't a noun ain't a noun ain't a noun ain't a noun. I'm fucking dizzy of this round this round oh this wound that i found that i found that i found that i found. I don't wanna get bouned get bouned get bouned get bouned get bouned. Oh boy, I'm going down going down going down going down giong down going down. I'm getting sick with all this round, this round, this round this round this round. Please leave me alone, don't hang me on that gown that gown that gown that gown, oh no, I'm forced dead, married-burried on the ground.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Puking Phenotype

You're an open-minded man, showing comprehension, respect and freedom towards me. I'm an open-minded free woman, completing you, so we could be happy together and free open-minded, mutually respecting human beings.
But in the end, your comprehension, respect and freedom towards me is under a veil. You're making my life happening all around you, and it's making me dizzy, making me sick, making me throw my whole personal proud up. I'm puking phenotype. You're killing me.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Made History

June 25th, at 10 p.m., my local time, jee, I got a fright. Was waiting to cross the road, music loud on the iPod, looked right, stepped forward and felt something touching my left arm. Gently. I looked left. And Oh, boy! A tall, monster looking-like bus leaning on me. Oh, baby. Destiny didn't want me to make history.
Ironically, was going to watch Transformers that night. Right after that sort of Optimus Prime almost ironed me...
Was sitting at the movies. Optimus Prime was dying. And I was told: Michael Jackson died. What a shock. Michael Jackson died... No!!! Optimus Prime can't die!!! Michael Jackson... Optimus Prime almost killed me.
Got home. Looking for news on the Greatest Popstar.
Oh, my word. He died at 10 p.m., my local time.

May your soul R.I.P. But your music will never rest.
-somehow would even be curious if i met u up there, but phew, better not even joke about this.-