The breathing sculpture.

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There she stands in the outer edge corner, shadowed by her comrades, laughing at the joke that was displayed like a medusa head about her pot bellied expression of witless dreams and stained memories that lost its luster with too many sweets.

Once everyone turns to encore the moving articles around them, a tiny colorless melody drips from her eyes that have met and seen many intricate colored metaphors for her lifetime to suck her dry.  She wipes it away without disturbing the graceful black stroke that has outlined her mirror; with the color of her soul.

And she stands, with her hands crossed and legs slightly titled like a moon unsure of how he should come out for the party tonight. Her dress hangs loose and the stretched her already curved impression making her hard to breathe as the hues in front of her laugh; choking her to death.

She dances in the bathroom mirror, squeezing arrhythmic steps into her overloaded heart and the beat just jarred the cacophony even further.

Yet, with her renewed makeup and strength; she rises like a phoenix with a smile to kill soldiers in their best armor. Yet, when alone in the sanctuary of her confinements, she lost all her lustrous rhinestones to the sky who cried with her that night.

Everyone admired the starry skies.

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…and my cries died in the wails of nature’s misery…

 

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I am bound by the cartilage of winter’s eerily molded teardrops that drop once in a while as if a reminder pinning on my eyelashes saying, careful- my family’s on the way to cheer you up this dull gray morning.

As if that doesn’t deprive me of the beautiful things that I could be but didn’t choose to.

The dawn does weep Christmas wishes and I hear laughter echoing through the plain walls of my house, from miles apart; and the unmistakable giggling of over enthusiastic children.

My heart couldn’t bear anymore the rhyming of two rhythmic soul’s catapulting in each other’s calligraphic aura through rosy hues.

I draw unbroken heart shapes in the breath of ‘nature’s’ long echoing sigh on my bleary window but was easily mastered by another wave of agonizing misery of her wailings.

I lost the last heart again.

And after umpteenth effort, I stretch my sleeves hard enough to cover my finger tips listening numbly to the ripping of my heart. This sweater covering my feeble body from the desecrated cold has seen its better days. So, I ignore her protest in wanting to cover my fingers.

Somehow I feel like a mannequin stuck inside a clock; unable to move without being slapped by the needles.

And you are a parchment paper in which I have written my suicide notes as a will to the roses that have stopped whispering my name in your hands… but you give me them anyways since you can’t bear the thought of the thorn piercing into your bones, tattooing my tragedy.

Dear silence, bid me farewell to the moon where shadows don’t backbite and bicker.

Let me paint melancholy in the desolate part of the night sky and die a bluish death… so that I can smile happily believing that I just stopped becoming a story as the ink died in my veins.

Whoops, its wedding season here!

Featured Image -- 209Note to myself, this pic here!:D

True to my word, it is marriage season here in my part of the world. 😀 And I am seriously wondering how am I going to attend it all. It started from last week and it drags on to the last day of December and if I am right, I am sure I have a marriage in January.

wow, right?

Nope!

seriously, nope! Since I am already in the fat department, from the moment I can remember my body! may I add! All the food and wonders will only gain weight to my already weighted body and seriously, I am not entirely excited about all these marriages!

I mean, its fun, and its free food! But other than that, I have to face the mocking faces, the stupid questions, indirect insults on my body and direct mockery to the food I eat! Dang, I am one body shielding from too many bodies. Damn, I need the energy.

Though I have been fat my entire life and I am twenty-two now, so yea! Long period, and my dream, the foremost dream was to experience how it is to be slim! WOW, big ambition, yes, it is! I don’t want to be a doctor, I don’t want to be a business legend! I want to experience how it is to be slim and dress casually without fearing the bulging eye under my arms, on my belly and two pillars of my thighs! So, what was I gonna say!? Yes, though I have been fat my entire life and have been enjoying people’s damn comments on my body… I am strong and never… I repeat, never droop my head low and cry because of my fate.

I am fat, big deal! You are thin, so? So… If there are any people who are sorry for themselves for being fat… STOP PITYING YOURSELF! If you are fat because you can’t keep your mouth shut from fattening foods, then I should say, you really need to consider yourself! I am not blaming you not mocking you or anything. I am just saying you have a chance to be beyoutiful and healthy at the same time. It’s awesome to be yourself but it’s dope to be healthy and yourself, right?! I am sorry, I am not good at getting my points in the right directions! SO, don’t feel offended or anything! I am overly fat, so I know how it feels to stuff that next mouthful and promising that we will stop right then! 😉 I am in the unfortunate few who are fat from the beginning and have never been able to shed at least a few!  I think I am having some kind of virus to gain fat every few weeks :)) But trying is the new synonym for success! 😉

SO, where were we? Marriage! Yes. The holy night of squeezing two souls into one!

SO, yea, let me enjoy the colors, the mockery, the food and definitely the comments, “I will be single my whole life if I won’t shed some weight” Like that’s your concern granny gi!

Ciao, I am blessed to have my secret moments of ranting since I may be a huge blob of fat, but I am certainly not a superhuman who can stuff all the emotions in!

Thanks for listening to me Blog! I love you 🙂

I hate somewhere’s.

Somewhere inside calloused knees,
a voice gyrates
slowly murmuring holy scriptures
emanating inside caged ribs
caged by ivory promises and skeletal reminisces.

emerged from somewhere deep
was a round egg
cracked to the horizon;
only to sizzle up wavy patterns
of yellowish pus
looking too cool in the aftermath
of an explosion.
I raised my hands devouring all the exclamations
later constipated by trendy syllables;
yet, I stared at my knees
decorated with too many vowels
all having an interesting story to narrate,
embarrassing me.

the apparitions of medieval history
gagged me, by the colorfulness;
I was bound to black and gray
traveling back to antiquity
somewhere I belong.

somewhere inside a coliseum
build upon anagram
shuffled to the word trust
I stood barefoot
enjoying the coldness
bathing my foot with prickles
later to sting with numbness,
but I stood still
blanketed with Goosebumps;
yet, I never got what I wanted
I don’t know what I want.

slim and prim were the actor
hiding behind thick shades of blue,
peeking in and out
like it’s hiding from me.
a lone star encourages the pregnant moon
to come out and shine
but, her fingers are wrapped upon invisible guilt
of having the burden
within her
and she is at last everyone’s milky queen.
but she feels bad
for pushing out her outward belly;
only in a days time, to collect them back.
I am like her,
how, I don’t know.

I am eaten up by moth
crawling from the books;
by the size of the moth
my mom scolds me, it’s because two days
is the max I take to complete
a four hundred page novel.
You can’t blame me, to feel incompetent,
I complain.
she shakes her head in defeat
and by the end of my umpteenth snickers bar,
I lost count of the book that smells fresh,
like me after a bath.
I am indispensable;

am I?

glass slippers are so old school,
so I custom made
from silverware,
and folded my clothes
with golden threads.
Alas,
I can only shape
what I can
with my hands; others are just
forbidden fruit.

City Silhouette

 

dusty pendulums

craft unhinged rhythm,

scattering seams of tarnished jokes

and level headed gossips

through thick glasses,

resting on top of his

shining egg;

boiling with perfection

in the heat of morning news

and crisp bacon

 

broken bottles narrate a forlorn tale

as kids with mountain on their head

and pant skidding below the waist line

bubble up with anticipation

screaming profanities

to the street lamp, flickering.

 

a dog slowly meander

through the many rivulets of garbage

lining the sidewalk

where a man with ragged clothes

and heavy breath

leisurely rests with smoke

spiraling out like white serpents

with vengeance

 

traffic lights chase speeding cars

puffing dark poison

through pipes of exhaustion,

as they run impetuously

through the many degrees of life.

 

the blanket is pulled on and off

as the sky switches day and night

rapidly.

 

the wind pulls leaves out

and hem of their clothes

as they sway in harmony

and hoarse breaths

 

a coffee rests

on top of the red benches facing the scattering

crowds;

the smoke swirls

mimicking ballerinas

as they narrate the tale

of this sleepless town

 

pen whisks images

on papers as the morning lark

sings indolently

to the hot Monday morning.

Being me is really difficult.

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The stain of coffee lingers fresh
unfolding yesterdays
which languidly turns to yesteryears,
cementing thoughts over my
eyes, sulking dolefully.

life never changes.

But, I have a beautiful life.
each morning, I open my eyes
to the lethal secret revealing more
and more to me…circling through my past
and narrating connotations
to endless loops of dark secrets;
and I am learning from my mistakes
because the pain never heals
as I sullenly revolve
like an earth, on my own axis.

I am content.
not conceited; why shouldn’t I be?
the truth of something making me inhuman
shrouds behind thick shield of me
and it stays sealed;
until the mystery of myself never divulge to the open;
I am glad each day is a blessing
that dawns without losing my respect.

untitled.

In the sweetest of nocturnal ponds, my eyes dip in the cool shores of silver, waiting to be rolled in warm bliss, by your fragrance wafting around the pond. Golden charm resonate while you hum, the melody of my serenade and I pinch myself to see this ballad is real and not a mild mirage like those dandelions there in your eyes. I dip my quill in the river of your love and write in the canvas of jasmine and rose. our love is the closure of unending legacies, unraveling through years of melted sonata

Our song is the boon of your whispers, where I slip into the gardens of Eden, devouring the eloquent shade of poetry only to write you an ode, from the temporal lobe of my cranium. Our song is the ballad sung by undulating wrapping up of blankets in the sultry ambiance of indigo passions. Our love is the shade of moon, whispering to the stars and guiding the way of forbidden fruits like us.

O divine verses of prose, glide me through your indispensable proximity of my love, that flows through the veins of river in between the root that hold the deepest of pleasure, that flutter through the dreams of pink, orange, amber, red painted sky….that mix with the zilch effervescence of this seedless night.

I shall make you weep those ink of eloquent aura, making me drip with emotions as your verses tangle my brains. I behold the torch of your divine presence that unveil glaciers and waterfalls of enduring metaphor, and I bathe in this pond of reverberation to rattle my love towards you, O fine piece of beauty.