<- Perfectly Pointy ->

To Keep the Children

2009-08-22T16:06:46Z

It's times like this she wonders why she lives at all.

Times when children laugh, their faces transformed by joy. Although love is hailed as a many-splendoured thing, children are those who should truly be splendoured, treasured, coddled and wrapped all in cotton wool and cling wrap for their protection. Or maybe that cling wrap is meant to be shredded. She cannot remember, sometimes. Both methods seem feasible. Anything to keep the children laughing, for it is when they laugh that the world is right.

Times when children grin, smirks, wry smiles of any shape, angle, and size. Wiping their grins off their faces to replace it with some starkly-different emotion, like wonder, is something she always enjoys doing. Simply-put, it is fun. Then again, what isn't fun, with children? If it takes shocking them to do it, to ellicit a grin or remove a grin, she will do it. Anything to keep the children grinning, for it is when they grin that they retain spontaneity.

Times when children frown, animated after a quarrel, contemplative of an unfamiliar idea. Small fingers grip abandoned pieces of chalk, charcoal, scratching out experimental symbols on the grimy floor, striving to find a clear spot, then frowning in concentration. She yearns to help them, but realises it is no use, and forces herself to sit back, ever watchful, always watching. Anything to keep the children frowning, for it is when they frown that they are in thought.

Times when children cry, in frustration, in anger, in despair. The cup of passion overflows, tipping out of warm limpid eyes, pools of devilish innocence. It is an uncontrollable outpouring of emotion. Sometimes just a little teasing manages to do it, and she savours that much, being a part of their passion for however short a period. Anything to keep the children crying, for it is when they cry that they feel.

Times when children laugh, running barefoot around shards of broken green glass in the alley, free of street concerns or family quarrels for the moment. Some are forgotten; some would not be missed. Reflected many-fold in the glass is a beautiful face with the most perfect dimples, a heartbreaking smile, and eyes that bore into the glass like twin abysses, contemplating, stalking. Anything to keep the children... And she remembers. It is for the children.

A/N: Reference to an upcoming movie starring beard&moustache!Colin Firth...

Semipoem: Biscuit

2009-02-17T03:22:50Z

Kissable is what I call these,
Your lips, touchable
With the reverent tips
Of my fingers, delicate
(for you are delicate,
delicately mine)
I dedicate on this rainy
Tuesday -- my thoughts,
Fleeting and warm,
Snuggly and ticklish,
Whispering, 'Forever',
To you, always you.
[c:1422h, 170209]
A/N: A short one~

jaycet @ 2008-09-17T00:54:00

2008-09-16T14:55:44Z

All I do is sit in a corner and wish I were looking at you once more.

That I was gazing upon the beauty of your laugh, eyes crinkled in joy, lips twitching slightly in mirth. The appearance of that dimple like an impudent surprise, heaped on the brazen laughter you break out in whenever you are truly amused. I loved eliciting that laughter. It was special, a wonder among wonders.

I thought I knew you, but I held you like spun glass, delicate in your beauty. I was afraid that if I pushed too hard, you would break. Yet, you, easygoing as you are, could hardly want the things I wanted.

I felt impure, broken. I thought you would make me whole, but I could not make you whole, for you have always been whole. It made me feel sullied -- that I was marring your purity with my impetuous wants. The pain of how remote you were brought me to my knees. It made me wonder.

It made me ask -- Why? Why me? What did you see in this flawed human?

I couldn't take it any longer. There was only one thing to do, one sacrifice to make -- so she could shine once more, virgin territory bright and gleaming, a beacon of purity for other lost travellers, if only they did not fall in the trap I had.

All I can do is sit in a corner and wish I were looking at you once more.

Even now, when your eyes are averted and you can no longer see me.

~

I love the way your eyes were always on me.

No matter where I was, as long as I was in the same room, my attention was drawn to you. You, in your quiet intensity. It made me feel shy, that direct glance. And it wasn't anything I had ever felt before -- this hesitance, this tenderness. It was not only the way you spoke, but the way you worshipped me.

I know I hurt you being so flippant sometimes, but I was trying. I was trying to say the words that could not come easily. They were words I had never said before. My only defense was my laughing exterior, the one that said everything was right with the world, even when I was floundering inside and everything was falling apart.

I saw you becoming distant, and now you were the one hurting me, and I could not understand why it was going like this. We were meant to be perfect. I only wish I could have told you how much I wanted that.

It made me wonder -- why? Why couldn't I say it? I knew it all in my heart, yet the words would not come.

It is only now that I realise I love you, but it's too late to say it. The tears choke me -- unending streams of bitter sorrow, the sorrow borne from loss that could have been averted.

All I can do is wish you were looking at me once more.

Even now, when you can no longer do that.
A/N: Sometimes saying something is worse than not saying it...other times, it's the very lack that hurts.

{Semipoem} Butter

2008-09-11T15:20:03Z

Slip!
And fall, rise and drop.
Clogging up your arteries,
Building bridges on cutlery.
A greasy stain on your napkin,
Sunk in and impossible to clean.

Ah!
But that deliciousness,
The creamy salty wonder
That fills the tastebuds,
Jars the senses and makes
People wonder, aloud, what?!

Was that?
Wasn't cream, not milk,
Nor some watered-down chemical
-laden powder of indeterminate nature.
Just pure goodness, one big solid chunk.

Margarine!
Oh no, please no,
No margarine, no polyun-
-saturated rubbish, crap made
using H2 over Nickel -- the only
One, for me, for everyone, is butter.

Butter!
A/N: Wow...something I wrote that is actually exactly what it says. XD Or is it?!

{Semipoem} Unfinished

2008-08-26T15:14:27Z

Falling, slowly, suspended,
in midair, sparkling and distended,
so precious, so hated, and yet
so melancholy, so quiet, and hushed
Rolling, quickly, surrounded.
(Tears)

Laughing, lonely, neglected,
in repose, hopeful and distracted,
so sad, so earnest, and yet
such joy, such purity, and look,
Smiling, open, wishing.
(Joy)

Caressing, gently, thoughtful,
in wonder, careful and enthused,
so heated, so sensitive, and yet
so intense, so warm, and cuddle
Comfortable, seeking, finding.
(Love)
[c: 0112h, 270808]
A/N: I wonder. And I almost ran out of words for this one. -_- Somehow doesn't seem finished to me, either...but it's getting late so!

{Cookie} Wrapped

2008-08-15T14:12:44Z

Have you ever wanted to fly?

If you have, do you think about the freedom it would bring -- unshackling yourself from the bounds of the grounds, flinging yourself with wild abandon into the air? Defying gravity, traveling alone or in a flock.

Or is it about testing yourself -- seeing how high you can climb, how many thermals you can ride? Challenging yourself by weaving around obstacles, taking charge of your destiny with split-second decisions.

I want to fly. I want to run away from it all, be a coward, fly away into the wide blue sky. Fly towards the sun, spiral down into the sea.

I don't want to die lonely. In that last moment, I would like to be embraced. Be it by the depthless ocean, or the boundless sky, I wish for that last image to be emblazoned into my heart. An image of beauty, an empty joy and peace.

A/N: Kinda short...but it's all I wanted to say for now. -shrugs-

{Semipoem} Dessert Offering

2008-07-24T14:59:42Z

Succumb to the cherries atop
Your black forest cake,
Each succulent sweet sensation
Of chocolatey richness bittersweet,

Dark sins. The swirl of raspberry
Hidden, a secret surprise
In your cheesecake. Not much,
Just right, a little mild,

Beautifully so. Strawberries
topping the confection, fragrant
with green tea. Tangy explosion
of flavour, mixing with

Lingering sweetness. Currants
Mixed with regret, topped
With succulent carrots.
Positioned carefully on

The altar. A tinge of mulberries
Sweetening the light fluff of
Cream, flavours I never cared much for,
Colours I, only now, begin

Experimenting with. But you wouldn't
Say it's too late, wouldn't
Begrudge me finally realising
The joy you wanted to show me.

[C:0052h, 240708]
A/N: Caaaaaake.

{Semipoem} Thoughts of you on a Rainy Day

2008-07-05T16:35:49Z

Wind sweeps past the panes,
Glass wet, droplets hang.
A hundred folded paper cranes,
Smiled over, songs sang.
Hands folded on lap,
Docile day, photo day.
Your kisses marking a map,
Down my body, all the way.
The way you sparkle when we meet,
Eyes lock, hugs overdue.
Sometimes all I really need,
Is a thought of you, just of you.

[c: 0232h, 060708]
A/N: No, it's not actually raining at the moment. Yes, I just wanted to write something. And kind of prove that I can write in ABAB verse (yes, the last one's a half-rhyme), though doublets will always be easiest. XD

{Story} Paint

2008-07-02T15:56:18Z

You might not want to read this if you're easily disturbed. -wry- I'm not sure if people will get what's going on...

Blood Magic - Paint

"Use your canvas."

The girl whimpered. She could scarcely believe this was happening to her, that she was being forced to participate in this disgusting act. She sat, and watched, as in front of her, horror after horror threatened to unfold. The man smiled, a maniacal gleam in his eyes, as the woman threw back her head and screamed again, that dreadful cry echoing around the cold stone walls of the amphitheatre.

"Paint."

The whispers were coming again. She knew they were directed at the pair in front of her, atop the blood-stained altar, a desecration of all things natural. The woman was resisting, but the man smiled. The gleam of a knife, then that soft sound of metal piercing flesh, and the woman screamed again, this time in agony. The girl tried to close her eyes, to look away, but when she did, all she met was the violet gaze of the boy sitting beside her, his hand small but clasped over her wrist, an iron grip. His smile was sinister, his eyes knowing. They were to be next, after all, and it was a honour to be participating in this ritual. But these were not her thoughts. She was innocent! She had no idea how this was happening, and she did not want to be like that...to suffer the fate of the woman...

"Yes, paint, sketch..."

...who was quietly sobbing now, surrendering to the soft, insistent pleas. The metal drank deep of the blood, which ran in rivulets down the altar. The arm was being worked on, and the girl could not look away. It was fascinating as much as it was horrifying, to see someone's arm laid bare, ribbons of flesh separated from the bone, almost like a delicate artwork. The body was truly a masterpiece, each delicate tracery of vein or artery separate from each other, coexisting and cooperating. A beauty to behold, a sacred wonder.

"Draw, delineate..."

Organs were separated from each other, and as she looked on in horror, devoured whole. The man laughed all the while this was happening, even as blood dripped down his neck, rivulets of red staining his skin, his voice joyous despite the hopelessness of the situation. It was not the laugh of a psychopath, it was as pure as a gurgling brook, and somehow that seemed all the more wrong.

"Etch..."

With a final cut, the heart was suspended in mid-air out of the chest cavity, and as the woman held it in her hand, she collapsed with a last cry of anguish. Her body was unmarked, the heart in her hands still beating, the man's internal organs laid bare with the precision of a surgeon, a precision borne from an otherworldly physical control that could only be purely mental.

And the girl heard the boy's voice in her mind as he began to chuckle, to laugh as his father had.

"Use the canvas...yes...use me as the canvas, and let the pain transform you. Paint, my dear, paint."

[c: 0149h, 030708]

{Story} Possibility

2008-03-22T14:36:39Z

I think I'm turned on...-sighs- Well have a look, it isn't too horrible, I don't think. :P This is for Lawrence, who wanted me to write Mana X Nagisa-chan. I hope those two don't come kill me...I should probably read this over but I'll do it when I'm thinking...more straight.
I opened the door, and winced as it somewhat creaked.

Mana was reading or writing by candlelight, again. I shivered a little at the darkness, like I always did whenever I entered her house. After the initial shock, though, the greyness settled around me like a warm silk throw. I tiptoed to her, hoping to surprise her when I never had, before. She did not raise her ruby eyes from the page she was on, eyes still slowly scanning the page as she read. I had this strange idea she would look really really cute with glasses, and filed it away for future reference.

I approached her chair from the side, and rose up much like a whale from the depths of the ocean, I figured, hugged her impulsively, and cried her name out happily, "Manamana!"

"Shhh," she shushed me, but what was that? A slight smile on her lips? It appeared for just an instant, before she reverted to her usual expression of bored disinterest, followed by the words, "I'm writing." Ah well, it was worth a try. I suppose the day Mana got surprised would be the day I turned into a neon pink cow and flew circles around this dark place.

Then I pouted, because she actually did raise her book slightly! Though I noticed that her eyes weren't scanning the page -- they were just on one spot now, as if waiting for my move. Interesting, that. I loosened my hug around her chest a little, moving my hands up and trailing them across her exposed collarbones. Leaning in, I gave those same collarbones a reverent kiss, breathing in the faintest hints of the perfume she wore -- some indefinably light, vaguely-floral scent reminding me of older, gentler times.

I felt more than heard her breath hitch. A reaction. Wonderful. Moving in to rest a knee on the plush chair she was sitting on, I raised my head to look into her eyes, shimmering ruby appearing darker than usual, with the lack of light in the room. Resting my weight on one of the arms of the chair, I leaned forward, smiling, to brush my lips across hers in the softest of kisses, lighter than a butterfly's wing.

Both of us ignored the thud of the book falling to the floor.

When the sound faded from the room, I had nudged myself a little closer to Mana; the hand previously on her collarbone had moved a little lower, brushing the tempting swell of her breasts to rest on her slight waist. My other hand preoccupied itself with a few strands of her beautiful hair, which distracted me for a moment because of how pretty it looked, glimmering in the firelight like wrought silver. It was unbound, and Mana was dressed casually, in a simple shift lined with lace. Her skin emanated warmth where I touched her, as did the heavy silk of her hair when I ran my fingers through it. Mana made a slight sound as I did that, and before I knew it she had leaned forward, and our lips met, properly this time. I melted into the sensation of softness, molding myself to her body, heart thudding in my chest and wondering if she could feel it too.

No matter how many times I kissed her, I think my heart would always be pounding that hard.

How could I describe the heaven of her lips? It was the ambrosia of gods; she tasted like chocolate and wine, and as I traced her lips with my tongue she shyly returned the flavour, inflaming my senses. And she moved slightly against me as we kissed, every moan a vibration through our bodies, sending tingles of pleasure up and down my spine.

We were short of breath when we separated, but within the next heartbeat we were continuing the kiss once more, and this time I moved the hand on her waist downwards, hiking her shift slightly up to trace imaginary shapes on her thigh. She squirmed slightly, and I took the chance to urge my tongue gently past her lips, tasting her fully. I circled her tongue with mine, a dance of pleasure she was my passionate partner in. So lost in the kiss was I that I somehow missed her hands moving under and up my blouse, until she was tracing my skin just under the line of my bra. Jumping slightly from the sensations, I drew back from her slightly. Which wasn't a bad idea, because that meant I could take a moment to see how she looked.

Her cheeks were flushed by pleasure, her eyes glazed by desire, a smile on her lips, slightly open. She was the epitome of beauty and desire. And she was mine.

We leaned in for another kiss...

The door creaked. I paused in writing as I felt the faint vibrations on the ground of someone trying to walk quietly but not quite succeeding. Re-reading the last paragraph I had just written, I did not start when a white, brown and blue blur rose from the side of my chair and hugged me impulsively, shrieking my name twice...
[c: 0150h, 230308]

{Semipoem} Beautiful Escape

2008-03-18T13:33:30Z

A short piece...I meant it to be lilting and happy, but I guess I can't help but infuse it with some sadness. :P See if you pick up on it?

Beautiful Escape

Blue and white and swirl and stir,
Whimsy and windy and ruffle of fur.
Squeal of delight, cheeks of rose,
Brook of laughter that never froze.
Sparkle of dew, run in the grass,
A smile so true, never a farce.
Sunshine and kisses and hugs for all,
Pick me up and comfort me if I fall.
The perfect day, the perfect dream,
Let it never be ripped at the seam.

[c: 1212am, 190308]

{Story} Swift

2008-03-10T14:36:18Z

Time to sleep...so tired. But I thought I'd get an emo love piece out first. :) Didn't help I forgot my LJ password, though...that shows how long I haven't been writing. Sigh.
Swift.
With your sigh, I am forsworn,

It's all about seduction, but the happiness is generally swift. How a whisper in your ear sends a fine shiver through you, and how I love the way you react to me, something primal in your shy smile, quick laughter, rapturous sigh that sends tingles from my spine right down to the depths of my heart. You always worried, always wondered if you were of utter importance in my life. Given my track record, you were probably justified in doing so.

While your smile brings me defeat.

Rather, to be honest, it only started with seduction. I realised I could never bear to break your heart, even with myself the jaded person I am. There was something bright and wonderful in you. You were far from innocent when you came to me, in some ways, but you were completely innocent to me, my jokes, my touch. If I rated myself higher I would have said I intoxicated you, but I have no illusions regarding how far my charm extends. I never believed in love at first sight, but your first true smile made me speechless, and you would bring me to my metaphorical knees many times after that first meeting.

In nature's own adorn,

At that time, the first thing I noticed about you was how you were so natural, how the wild beauty that epitomised you seemed fettered in the shackles of the concrete jungle. I never did manage to bring you to a real jungle, but parks, gardens, and that meadow field. You loved nature. My most beautiful memory will be of you sprawled on the grass, in a meadow of flowers, resting on your elbows. The sun's rays kissed your hazel hair gently, while a white flower from the wreath I'd clumsily made and put on your head dangled across your eye, and you smiled at me, unalloyed happiness shining through that eloquent look.

Your beauty is complete.

No one else could compare. In that moment, and every moment after that, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I am biased in saying this, but I am entitled to my opinion.

Our love, I'll never mourn,

I grew completely smitten with you. I, who had never known love, drowned in the gentleness of your eyes, the playful affection in your touch. I realised that love was, indeed, a many-splendoured thing. Just as you brought wonders into my life, the way I made you laugh and smile suggested I brought the same to yours, which only made me even more ecstatic. I was a slave to the sensation, but I did not care. I was happy. You were happy. The world was right.

Even if we never again meet,

Separation was not to be considered. It was an impossibility, a non-fact. We were meant to be together, even if nothing else in the universe mattered any more. Romantic notions, to be certain, but something in you awoke the childhood dreams I had always held. It was as if I'd shed off the skin of how tired I had been, and reemerged from a chrysalis. The world was brighter, sweeter, better with you by my side. How had I survived all those years before the phenomenon that was 'you' had occurred to me?

This is how we were love-lorn.

But you were always the more cautious one. You would laugh, but you would always worry. Whether I knew you, whether I thought about you when I touched you, or even when I wasn't, how much I loved you, how much you loved me, whether a meteor would collide on earth in a minute's time. I must confess it was one of the things about you that irked me. No love is perfect, though you are perfect to me despite certain aspects. Every time we had an argument, I would feel like I were torn asunder, my heart ripped to bloody pieces and left in a hill of carnivorous ants, to be devoured at leisure. But every time we made up, your kisses would be like a salve upon my wounded heart. And during one of those times, you made me promise I would go on even if you had stopped somewhere in the journey of life. Of course, this was impossible, so I readily agreed.

Passion casts its spell, so strong,

It is only now that I wonder whether she knew. Whether it was one of the contingencies she had prepared for, whether she had worried over it. And how many of those arguments were to scare me away, to 'save me heartache' as she would typically say. So selfless. But also so selfish. I wanted her. I told her this much ten, twenty, a hundred times, both in thought, speech, and action. I wanted her to want me, and she did. But there was the reluctance that I had never experienced. It added to her shyness, but now I wonder. I do not wonder often, and it pains me to wonder about this. And passion, after all, is about pain. I can take this pain.

Even when you're gone,

The happiness was swift.

Even when you're gone.
[c: 0113h, 110308]

This is actually based on a poem (AB alternate scheme) that can be read either way. XD

Even when you're gone,
Even when you're gone,
Passion casts its spell, sweet;
This is how we were love-lorn.
Even if we never again meet,
Our love, I'll never mourn.
Your beauty is complete
In nature's own adorn.
While your smile brings me defeat,
With your sigh, I am forsworn.

With your sigh, I am forsworn,
While your smile brings me defeat.
In nature's own adorn,
Your beauty is complete.
Our love, I'll never mourn,
Even if we never again meet.
This is how we were love-lorn,
Passion casts its spell, so sweet,
Even when you're gone,
Even when you're gone.

Hmm. Even as the poet, I can't decide which one I like more. XD Which one do you like more? Do comment! ^^

{Semipoem} Bonded

2008-01-04T16:19:31Z

On Danny's song suggestion, an English version of Yui Makino's Synchronicity. (Tokyo Tsubasa Chronicles) It's a very pretty song, but the lines tended to be pretty long. XD I followed the translation/meaning of the song a lot more closely than for Taishou.A, for which I admit I took quite a few liberties. I'm not sure whether I like what I've written. It seems rather unwieldy. XD There's one line/stanza that's my favourite though..:) See if you can spot it, heh.

I'm not sure yet if I'm gonna sing this. ._. The key is so sadly completely wrong. :/

I can't see you in light and yearning
I can't feel you in light or rain so I ask
Why can't I see you in light and yearning
I can't feel you in light or rain if you don't

Tell me, this warmth that we feel, where will it go now,
When tomorrow dawns, it will, vanish right before our eyes.
If the heartbeat in my chest, I synchronised to yours,
Will I fall as deeply as you have told me you have gone?

Every time, any day, by your side I will be,
No matter where it goes, (or) how your heart will wander across the world in search..

In the darkness so deep and black, the two of us were drifting, hands twined as one,
Like birds of innocence so pure and so sweet, our wings were huddled close by, so warm.
In your loneliness I know you take refuge in the smile you show to the world,
The ice that never melts, the blade that is you,
The tip of which I raise to my heart,
As I hold you close,
Always...

You're alone and by yourself, where will you go now?
When you think about it all, is it looking back you fear?
Sadness fills my chest with the dark greyness of despair,
Even though they're actually just alike as we all know.

Every time, any day, we'll return, never fear,
As we gaze, the two of us, with the evanescence we want to see once more...

Deep within this darkness so black, even if our hands shall be torn apart,
Our hearts will seek each other 'cos we are linked by a stronger bond than you'll know.
Whenever you're lonely, I'll know, even if you're laughing like you don't care,
So cold your fingers while my tears are so hot,
As I warm them steadily up,
I am by your side...

I can't see you in light and yearning
I can't feel you in light or rain so I ask
Why can't I see you in light and yearning
I can't feel you in light or rain if you say...

In the darkness so deep and black, the two of us were drifting, hands twined as one,
Like birds of innocence so pure and so sweet, our wings were huddled close by, so warm.
In your loneliness I know you take refuge in the smile you show to the world,
The ice that never melts, the blade that is you,
The tip of which I raise to my heart,
As I hold you close, (wish and love again)
I am by your side,
Always... (Always...)

I remember now I had those wishes
And how I was calling for you
Morning never came for me,
I remember how...

I can't see you in light and yearning
I can't feel you in light or rain if you//

{Story} Escape

2007-12-09T07:03:14Z

There was once a little girl.

The little girl was given a little room, little more than four whitewashed walls. Being the cheerful kind, however, she transformed it into a little haven with the things she had, a space of her own. The walls were sea green and blue; the lampshades gaily-coloured, red and pink and yellow. She did not have much money, to spend on decoration of quality and consistency, but she managed with what she had. She was the creative kind, and her room soon became homey, all the decorations worn with use but carefully chosen.

However, inevitably, her room became a little cluttered with her things. And upon unpacking, she realized she had quite a few things, too. Sometimes, she ruefully wished she had a spell, something that would help her find her things when she wanted to. A little summoning spell, perhaps.

They watched her, and decided to let her have her fun for a bit. They frowned upon the mess, the colour, and above all, the cosiness. Coldness was what they were used to – sanitised was a concept they understood. Yet, they knew that letting her get her hopes up beforehand would lead to a much more emphatic conclusion. Perhaps it was fun for them – as far as they could understand that concept – perhaps it was just an experiment to them.

She would never know, even if she would wonder, later. Why? Why did they protest so against what she had? She knew it was not perfectly neat, but she liked the way things were, in her little room, her little haven. Yet, the first few times she had mentioned that it was only ‘organised chaos’, they had exploded with fury and anger. It was unthinkable.

She tried, but she never seemed to make them happy. She couldn’t know they were always watching her, and knew all about her valiant attempts to “tidy”, which inevitably led to hiding things for a semblance of order. Of course, this was far from acceptable.

It was around this time, when she was in depair, that she got something akin to a spell. Except, instead of summoning, it let her leave things in an alternate blackness. She tried it out – miraculously, it worked. But they were never happy – no matter how many things she displaced, they demanded that she pack more up.

First the lampshades; then the little adornments for the furniture; even the walls suffered their wrath. And as she put more things into the blackness, it brightened slightly, and she found she could climb in and out of it, as with a portal. She had never minded darkness in the first place; it was not scary for her, like it could be for others. So she started spending more time in her little hole.

Every time she exited, she felt bereft and despairing, because of the stark reality of the little room she was given, being strangled of life slowly yet surely.

In the end, only a tiny circle of trinkets was left, on her white desk. The bed was white; the walls were white. Hearing the recriminating screams in her head commanding her to tidy her room already, she sadly swept them into the hole…then climbed in after them, closing the portal forever.

When they found the little girl, they tsked and tutted at the mess she had left. Meticulously, they cleared the body, eliminating the mess.

~~There was once a little girl.~~

{Semipoem} Unhallowed

2007-11-02T09:27:30Z

Steathily, I heap soil on your corpse,
so you're not to be found.
No matter if it's forbidden, or--
it's just something I do.
Innocence is there, a sliver of it,
as a lightning rapture,
It can't be hidden too deep;
the temptation of your gaze.

Why on earth do we sin? Can you tell me, why?
Why are there punishments? Oh, please, tell me, why?

Whiteness shone through the night,
the tip of the bone I could feel.
A clear invite to the doom,
and the dark descending to kill,
Everything's vivid now,
just look and you'll see, it's so clear.
But they'll all disappear;
quickly,
soon.

Memories are what I am to keep --
locked up, pretty, and bound.
No matter if they are damaged, or--
it's just something I do.
In the depths of love, I'm crazed, you will see,
as your heart I capture,
I can't repress it at all,
these impulses have me dazed.

While I gather the pieces, shattered, fragmented,
The dream will end, for I have, I have waited.

Those who sinned are souls bereft,
knowing they can't fight, they just left.
Those punished are yearning for
too much they just can't have,
Abandon everything, those you love
and those you hold dear,
And just spin, just go 'round,
never
swoon.

Do you think I can laugh
when the morning's rays shine on me?
Laugh like I did, on that day,
unalloyed, happy and free?
I can only keep wishing,
wishing that alone, I won't be,
And that for everything,
I'll have the key.
(And that there's nothing I'll ever lose..)

A/N: Will probably record this tomorrow. :) Based on the ending theme for Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Kai -- anNina's Taishou.. Working off translation courtesy of atashi via gendou. There's some obscure rhyme pattern somewhere there (see if you can spot them. :P)..but the original song didn't -really- rhyme. I wish I understood more Japanese (or actually understood some Japanese :P) so I could do this better, but ah well.

{Story} Lies

2007-10-18T07:53:58Z

Perhaps this is all about deception.

Perhaps, as you sit here reading this, someone else is saying something full of untruths. It need not be to you, or even about you, though the narcissistic nature of humanity does enjoy thinking our measly lives actually mean something. The world is full of inferior people. It is why I joined the Dark Lord, in the first place, but I have been disappointed. Not in him, never in him, for my love for him is unsurpassed.

Perhaps I loved him, too? Of course not! If anything, it was passion, sex, fire, ice. Anything but love. He seemed to know, too. Those Gryffindors always have that air of righteousness and mock sincerity about them. Yet, even knowing how I stood, knowing it all, ever since the beginning, somehow, he still mentioned the word. As he closed his eyes. With a smile, and a bouquet of white roses (and one red) in his hand. On his knees. Moving across me. Fire in his eyes.

Perhaps I wished to forget about him. To forget about the smoothness of his skin, the rasp of his breath against my skin, the growl of frustration as I toyed with him, as he tried to get me to react. He never did succeed. If he had become a man, maybe he would have. But he would always be a boy, my Sirius. Ah, not mine. I should forget him.

Perhaps you’ve been lying to me all along. You’re good at lying. Any Black is. You may not admit it, but you hide it under your charm, under your rousing laugh, the toss of your black curls. In the sleeves of your school robes, your concealed wand. You were always lying to me, never betraying your true self. Of course you were – it is how every member of the family was taught.

Perhaps you’ve always been lying.

Perhaps I didn’t kill you after all.

But if I am lying, what is all this about?

c:1752h, 181007
A/N: What is this all about, indeed? XD Bellatrix. Naaah. Sirius? Hrm, naahhh..

{Semipoem} Drink You In

2007-09-25T13:55:12Z

Drowning in the hot blue
Ocean of your laughter,
Ensnared by the warm caring
Chocolate of your eyes.

Distracted by the light honeyed
Tea of your thoughts,
Delighted by the electric
Fizzy soda in your hair.

Dreaming of the gurgling
Brook in the lilt of your voice,
Sleeping in the sweet sticky
Caramel of your embrace.

Wondering about the drab
Water of life days before you came,
Despairing of the stagnant
molasses, the day you may leave.

Tell me.
Is this love,
Or is this insanity?

[C: 2352h]
A/N: My answer: Insanity, if unrequited. But (hopefully) love, for otouto. :)

{Semipoem} Uninspired.

2007-07-31T12:42:13Z

Like the title says. SO UNINSPIRED. :( I did have an idea for (yet another) Sirius/Bella while listening to Mad World today, though..let's see how that turns out.
The probability is high
every time I look at you,
you're absorbed in something.
(Not me, of course.)

Yet I have to say
I don't quite mind
Your side profile,
eyes downcast,
face glowing with
excitement, (a game?)
concentration, (conversation?)
happiness.

Your hands, animated,
weave the air into
expression, agile.
A rakish smile--
then a laugh.
(You like to laugh,
after all.)

I watch, I smile.
Knowing the probability
you'll turn my way,
that our eyes will meet,
(and mine will be
surprised, naturally)
is low.

{Story} Share

2007-05-28T13:06:39Z

She liked sharing, and he sometimes wished she would share with him more. He wouldn’t mind, if she would only ask. But she never asked, and so he never raised it.

Who knew how it had happened? Certainly not him, for it had hit him like a hammer twixt the eyes, the heartstrings tangled even more than they had been. Quietly, cheerfully, with an impish smile and eyes that twinkled like the Atlantic, she had woven strands of her golden hair into his soul. Somewhere in him, he knew she resembled someone close to him, but he tried not to think about that, immersing himself instead in the soft feel of her lips, the warmness as he held her, the feeling of safety in mutual sharing. An embrace. A kiss. Secrets, and more.

When had it started to change? He thought it could have been the day the two of them had met. The two people he loved the best, and who meant the most to him. That day, he had seen how their eyes had met. That day, the promise had been laid, to be redeemed at a later point. It was not just that -- somehow he always got the feeling she would not, could not share with him. Maybe it was his fault for wanting something she could not give.

Still, he wanted to be everything with her, to be everything for her, but when she had heard this she had smiled slightly and tweaked his cheek, murmuring, “I wish I could share everything with you.” He knew she had only wanted to reassure him. The words were not false, for she had meant well. But the temptation had proven too great.

How did he know that? He could trace it to another day after the meeting. He had returned home early that day, his heart leaping with guilty love at the sight of his brother’s large shoes – he was home – then thumping with confusion as he spotted the sandals of his lady love, blue two-inch wedges he could imagine her delicate ankles in. He had worshipped those ankles more than once, and she had moaned with pleasure. More than once, they had even done it with the heels she so loved still on her feet, dangling off of her raised ankles.

What had they done? With the rhythmic, soft sound coming from upstairs, the very same thing that was happening in his brother’s room at this moment, he would say. Oh, his brother, the man so unlike him, so blond where he was dark, his eyes twinkling confidence while his were laid down in shyness. They shared their height, and their lineage. More than once, he had hoped he could share more, but was never asked (and, of course, never expected to be asked), and so never raised it. Facing his brother, he felt an immense feeling he should never feel because society said it was wrong, and so he was lonely and alone.

Where could he go? Where else, but his own room, just beside the one where such…acts…were being perpetrated, where illicit, secret giggles from those who wouldn’t share were being made. He sat on his bed for a moment, listening. The walls were thin. The passions were high. He imagined he could tune into the sexual waves emanating from the other room, radiating into him, suffusing him with a melancholy sense of desire.

He imagined her hands on him, (his? Or his brother’s? Or both?) coaxing, seductive, feathery touches. He imagined being in her, overwhelmed by the hot, wet, warm sensations. He imagined being her, being penetrated by the harsh length, in, out. And as he imagined, his hands moved, as if by their own volition, over his own body, seeking the pleasure he was unable to partake in, unable to share. He fell back onto his bed, eyes blinded by lust, no rage, but a sense of sadness and calm underneath the heat. He sensed the environment get more intense, the rhythm faster, and continued even as he cried out her name, and she cried out his. (In his memories, he edited it so that she cried out his own name, and so did his brother.) But as the lust reached its completion and retreated like an unruly, wayward wave that knew it had pummeled too hard upon the shore, the sorrow returned.

Why couldn’t they share?

The tissues that lay in the wastepaper bin were wet with more than tears.

[c:2211h, 280507]
A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this ever since one line grabbed me on my way to Redfern station. Unfortunately, the rest of my idea was forgotten, but I think this isn’t quite too bad, either. :)

{Semipoem} Utility

2007-04-25T08:32:43Z

When did it begin?
When did I become warped,
Cuddled, coddled, comforted,
Within the warmth of your
Hypocrisy, your lies.
Try this exchange, you smile.
Yet even I was unknown
Of this inclination within myself.
How could this intense pain ever be
Transmuted to wanton pleasure?
Your mind is closed to me,
Deep, dark, unfathomable,
Whispering quiet seduction.
(Or is it myself who is wary
Of being overwhelmed by you?)
My thoughts overflow the
Cup of my mind. I lose.
(Yet, you'd probably ask,
How is this bad?)
Tears blurring my vision,
Of the broken blue sky,
My resolution remains constant--
Please, "Use me."

{C: 1737h, 260407}
Damn, second time writing this out because Firefox crashed and erased my first attempt..-cries- In any case, this one is based off of Lawrence's translation of lyrics posted by Kai on a forum..."It had started being warped from sometime? It is protected in hypocrisy and lie? Something you lose in the degree which exchanges pain doing the inclination which is not known You closing mind, the る? Or me closing, the る? If the thinking which it turns over on you you lose, it does not go out to being good about you ask overflowing, about it is broken seeking sky, you who would like to go out from the 此 place the heart which is thought even then as for me being utilized, the く"

I thought it just had too many emo ideas for me to pass off converting it to a slightly more coherent form. ;) The last line is courtesy of Misa. I'd just finished watching the second Death Note movie..

{Semipoem} Influence

2007-04-24T06:47:19Z

I love you.
That’s
A lie. I barely know you,
Nor you me. Surely you mean
Lust, or some other chemical.
What an absurd statement.

I love you.
That’s
Impossible. I don’t get it,
Why me, why you, why now?
Surely you aren’t serious.
You’re lying again, barefaced.

I love you.
That’s
Weird. I know your kind.
All the world’s a joke.
Don’t continue telling me,
I’ll misunderstand what you say.

I love you.
That’s
Disturbing. The way you
Hold me, dominate me.
(Schedule, phone, dreams.)
But I can’t tell whether you mean it.

I love you.

I love you.
…Really?

{c: 1430h, 240407}

A/N:Eto. Yeah. Bored in class, too desperate for my own good, been reading Loveless = Influence.

{Cookie} Delusion

2007-04-23T10:21:52Z

People have often admonished me over what they call my inveterate lying ways.

Lying. Joking, bluffing, subscribing to an "adjusted view of the situation" -- no matter the name you called it by, it implied a certain knowledge that some information is incorrect. Yet the liar (it rhymes so conveniently with "fire") persists in perpetuating the idea.

I'm a complicated person. So are you. And so is pretty much everyone I know. This means that if you asked me why I lied so much (I prefer "misled"), I wouldn't be able to give you a straight answer. In fact, I'd probably try to mislead you again.

I didn't use to be so good at lying. Like all the honest, hopeful masses, I, once, wore my heart on my sleeve. And for what purpose? To be hurt, time and again, when the bareness of my feelings was laid out, and people laughed at them. I got tired of it after a while -- if they wanted to laugh, I would give them something to laugh about.

Can they imagine the emptiness of being restricted -- of feeling like you're unable to do what you want to? And even if you did, it'd give you a kind of guilty pleasure -- because you'd have to lie and say, for the sake of mere surface acceptance, that you hadn't done it, hadn't enjoyed it. This is part of the reason why the forbidden is so delicious. It carries with it the thrill of the unknown - the temptation to lie.

I don't mind that no one takes me seriously. It could confuse people, what I do, but ultimately, no one cares about others aside from themselves, really. All men are islands, our existences punctuated by the intrusion of others into our rotational boundaries. Alien, strange, uncomfortable.

So I joke, I grin, I smile devilishly. One day I might take it further and start lying to myself.
And people laugh, and for a while I can forget the emptiness.

{C: 2345h, 220407}
Kind of short…and somewhat confused. But yeah, it’s a bit sad, but the narrator of this is so very lonely…I’m really bad at lying, so suffice to say this really isn’t my inner mind I’m channeling. XD I’m reading Loveless manga at the moment…and if you know Soubi there, it’s a little like how he is.

{Semipoem} You See, I Think the Most Dangerous Things.

2007-04-09T00:03:49Z

You see, I think dangerous things,
Within the fifteen minutes in my shower.
While the water gently persuasively clings,
And my imagination blossoms like a flower.

An elephant in purple hose
Parading to beg for coffee,
The way it waves its pompoms blows,
But I'd give him some toffee.

Chii of Chobits power tripping,
Pantsu-buying in full force.
If all the immchix dressed so fetching,
Everyone'd be delirious, of course.

Then on to much more, ahem, things,
Like of cream, strawberries and peaches,
And sultry summer and springy flings,
And forking right on beaches.

(You can wonder - did we put forks in sand,
Or did we participate in some exhibitionism?)
So enjoy your shower, I command,
And hope you don't have an orgasm.

{C:1002h, 090406}
A/N: Written for Mandorallen's prompt/competition on Aard, with word list "elephant, pom-pom, power trip, underwear ('panties' or 'undies' also accepted), delirious, cream, forking, coffee, immchix, hose" -- submitted after the deadline, highly random, especially the last line.

{Semipoem} Confusion/Confession

2007-03-31T22:52:44Z

I'm fond of the way you talk,
The way you sulk.
Your lips when you giggle,
The awesome butt you wiggle.

I like your impassioned words,
The vibrations you purred.
Your caring and generosity,
Your overwhelming humanity.

I appreciate your attention,
Your tolerance for infatuation.
The heightened awareness,
You make me feel like a temptress.

I enjoy our connection,
The tenuous thread of reaction.
The happiness when I see you,
Being bereft when I leave you.

But do I love you,
Can I love you?
Do you love me,
Are you playing me?

Or do I already love you?

[c:180307, 2304h]
A/N: Jenn's back with more couplet drivel! Groan. XD

{Story} Affair

2007-03-29T11:48:18Z

The world of the internet is a fascinating one, and my affair with it started earlier than most. In my early teen years, I stumbled upon a site introducing teens to sex. It was mostly girl-oriented, so there wasn’t much I was interested in -- There was a forum, but I recall I posted only once, maybe twice. I didn’t like to ask questions of complete strangers – I’m not masochistic enough to risk it.

When it comes to risk, though – even before I was of age, I was blithely pressing on the “Yes” button when asked whether I was over 17 (or, occasionally, 18). I figured no one would find out, since I wasn’t the only one using the internet connection at any one time – and, after all, my parents were of age. In the process, I probably exposed my computer to a host of viruses – especially in the days with no popup blockers. I remember that it almost became a game of “how fast you can click alt-f4 while remembering which was the main window”.

Since I was a normal male (though doing things at fourteen my rather conservative peers might not be doing) – it was probably thought that I had a normal libido and the various hormonal problems associated with the age group and gender. (I always wondered whether girls had the same – if not, how…bland their teenage lives must have been.) So I never thought much of visiting the kind of sites with rather suspicious content I did. And with guys, we’re sometimes even expected to know about sex, whereas girls are generally supposed to be seen as the innocent types. This was only natural if they didn’t have the kind of sex drive we did at the same age – but if not, what a strange kind of double standard it was.

In terms of medium – there was a variety of free porn online. The main ones were probably stories, pictures, and movies, which I more-or-less discovered in that order, and I never paid a single cent (aside from the internet bill, which I didn’t foot at that age) for it. I pretty much gave up on pictures, since stories were more portable, and movies better visual stimulation. Since I was gifted with what I call a good imagination, and what my friends call a perverted mind, it didn’t take much to turn me on anyway.

But I did get bored easily, though the content I tended towards was always the hardcore ones. It might be sexist to say, “Foreplay is for girls,” but really, since the sole reason I was on was to attain sexual gratification, and not to please a partner, I saw no point having that kind of slow building up. Instead, I preferred it when it was a barrage of information – stimulation. Nothing less than hardcore – if you’re doing it, what’s the point if you’re not going to go all or nothing? Then I realised – what was I doing castigating people who did that when my own right hand was my best fuck buddy?

It was interesting. In some ways, you could really see a progression when it came to porno. Sometimes one particular position was trendy, and you could see that several videos were of that position. Or a theme might rise from obscurity, and the number of hits to it would explode. Like me, probably, people got bored, and the trends never lasted. It was interesting to watch, though.

And although I maintain I am not a voyeur, I remained a virgin even when most people around me were boasting of their sexual exploits. Somewhere, I had probably retained the teachings of my religious parents, though they would certainly hit the roof if they realised I’d found and clinically (mostly) watched dad’s stash of porno VCDs, and mom’s stash of juicy romance novels. Quite a few of them were of lousy quality (far too drawn-out, too many filler scenes, not enough good sex), and the stuff online was much better, anyway, but I was curious at the time.

I tried online sex once or twice, but it didn’t turn me on to take breaks to write, and I wasn’t selfless enough to indulge in beautiful prose on the spot to satisfy some nameless person on the other side. After some attempts, I decided I’d rather lurk around. During one such attempt, I found someone who came on every day, and wrote much better than most of the people I saw. Since writing was one of the skills I placed highly, I kept an eye on this person, and found out he/she also frequently responded with insightful and passionate remarks, that I often agreed with, on other channels.

So I decided to start a conversation.

:Hello.
:Ah, hi. Do I know you?
:You don’t, but I like your style when you write.

I can be a blunt person when I want to be, and I wanted to keep this particular person off-balance while I got my answers.

:Write?
:Do you actually get turned on when you write for others, like that? Or is the climax just literary expression?
:Um.
:I do…
:Do you masturbate, then?
:Is there a reason for these questions..?
:I’d like to get to know you.

And with that, our somewhat-unlikely friendship began. It turns out he, if it was really a he because I never quite found out, admitted he did it mostly for others – like for me, he didn’t particularly enjoy typing one-handed, and he jokingly said if he wanted sexual relief he would rather beg his girlfriend. The latter, of course, didn’t know he was doing this – and I never understood why he did. I asked, but his explanations made no sense to me. The rest of him, though – it was like a meeting of souls. We felt the similar way about several topics – but differently for quite a few, and we had fun arguing them out.

We were careful, or perhaps I was the only one being careful, not to allow real life to “intrude” upon this dream-like relationship we had. All I knew of him was he lived on the other end of the world from me. Far enough for me not to worry he might come and find out I’m just an average guy, or I might find out the same of him.

Then, after a few months – a remarkable time for most internet relations of this kind, I have since found out – he stopped coming online. And while I waited around the places he frequented, at the times he did, he never did, again. Not as his usual userid, not as another, for I recognise the way he chats. It was as if he had disappeared off the internet. To this day, I do not know if he had moved, got bored, or even died. The strange thing was I felt no sadness – only a satisfaction for the times we had spent. And a desire that slowly grew even as I got on with my life.

Later on, after I graduated, I got a job, married. My wife is a good woman, but we do not particularly understand each other. She is intelligent, but often disinterested in the things I care about. She does not really know me, nor of the secret life I spent, and still spend, online. I am a coward and do not dare to tell her – I fear she will reject me as the average person probably would.

I have sex with my wife, but somewhere along the line it has gotten obligatory. I care for her a lot, but sometimes, now and then, I go online and enjoy a tad of porn. On the way, I lurk at the chatrooms. They look different, and the people change even as the way they chat varies according to trends, but I listen out, listen out for that cry of loneliness, the one my own feelings resonates to. The voice of intelligence in the mishmash of the human waves.

And just when I am about to give up, I find him, or her. You never know, really.

And it’s short, always. But intense.

It’s an affair I never want to give up.

[c: feb07]

A/N: I have to say, this seems like a pretty lousy piece, writing wise. After all, my initial inspiration was “let’s write about a teenage guy, porno, and a short but intense internet affair!” (Kind of shallow. XD) ~~But ah well, I won’t release it so it probably doesn’t matter.~~ Changed my mind..still don't think it's good, but might as well release it! XD