Big Needles, Buffed Bods and A Friend
Saturday, August 04, 2007
And i would like to make this the soundtrack of my life. The medley where you play the french horn and clarinet while i blast away on my Tuba, never looking at the conductor because it's our song, not theirs. They won't know what it means, however they'll know when to judge.
I saw a very big needle pierce through my vein today. I never cried, I couldn't pee into a plastic bottle and stood behind a PJ rugger. Toilets are the place where all men converge only to have a chat with their little friends, waiting for the stream of consciousness to sent a shiver. I enjoy bus rides with the chocolate muffin eater, he tells the best stories and asks the best questions.
"What if you became gay?"
" I think your mum would break down."
We have the same odd behaviourial misconceptions, same taste buds, same language, same proximity.
I think i want to buy a toy camera and take a picture of my mother and paste it in my journal. I want her face to remind me why I'm in college and why I'm trying my best to succeed. Whenever I'd feel lonely in school i would talk to her and see her smile. I want to know that it's okay to feel insecure at times, 'cause it shows that we are humane individuals. I want to feel less angsty and share life with another.
Sometimes i wonder when i would die and said "What if it's tomorrow, Haziq? "
"Going out later? With who?"
"Alone"
"No friends?"
"(not really)"
For someone so brave, you seem so quiet.
I want to experiment with myself. Let hate cut my spleen out and let pulsations blast my heart into a million red fibers. I want you to put a surgical mask on, scalpel ready create an incision on my head. You know which nerve cells would ruin me. You know which neurons and synapses would allow me to be yours.
What if it really happened tomorrow?
caught a razor butterfly at - 2:17 PM |
