Cassie

May.

Starless.

Cloudy.

She sat on a chair, embodied in a black dress, cross legged and hair down, with a burning cigarette between her two fingers. She brought it between her lips and inhaled deeply so the smoke burned from her throat towards her lungs. She held it in and exhaled so the blasted smoke scattered about, surrounding her. She is damned and she is aware of that fact yet she smokes with such contemptuous ignorance and profane probability that it makes her feel better.

Sadness took the vacant seat beside her, touched her hair and caressed her bare arm like a lustful biological being who burns with desire. She ignored him as another batch of smoke filled the air, suffocating all her thoughts and tying up the emotions that are trying to rush up her head.

"You're too late now," his dreary and bleak voice cracked in the cold air, "and you know that."

She sat still, unresponsive and mute, trying to consume every memory that are blazing alight right before her dreamy dark eyes. She grew sensitive to her lethargic soul, burning her gut out, and opened her lips to break out the words but her lips only trembled. The Phantom appeared in front of her, gazing idly with such amusement.

"Leave." was her flat response and it echoed in the dark. It made Sadness smirk like an elf. A blow of wind dropped by and she found herself alone once again.

emanon

You walk past me, looking at my eyes,
What was the color?
You walk past me, so close you are,
Your name, your name
How do they call you?

When I'm alone I'd think of you.
Your name, your name
I'd like to know.
When I wake up, a speed of light.
Your face, your face
Appears in time.

I need to hear a sound from you,
Your voice, your voice
What is it like?

Oh, the sparks in my head!
Oh, the warmth of your gaze!
You're name, your name
When will I know you?

Tears

I love the moment when I can feel something in my eye. The sudden urge of freedom from a tiny drop of tear would awaken me and when it  comes out of my eyes, it frees everyone, it's fellow tears as well as all that I have been feeling. I love how they moist away my angry and dull eyes, I love the way how it awakens me and when my boat is going to sink in, it would be the best experience that I would certainly miss.  

The reason why I cried tonight pays no relevance to my life right now. Maybe someday it will make sense to me, once I am old with age, joy, and perhaps regret. But what happened tonight made me realize that I have been long denying something that I should sometimes think about. Or maybe I should completely forget about it and go to sleep and in the morning, I won't be able to remember what was happened. Life is strange, perhaps. Once you fall asleep and dream, you are transported to another world, a world you fear and a world you have been wanting to stay. You see unfamiliar and familiar faces. You meet the superficials and you get to be in a place buried by age and time. How strange life is, by the time you wake up, they're gone and after a few hours, you won't even remember them, you won't even remember the feeling of waking up in the morning as the dreams you had comes speeding up your thoughts. They just dissipate without any reason, leaving you confused and bothered. 

As you fix yourself for a new day, you feel so happy. You go out with your friends, you laugh, you smile, you talk and you don't seem to notice what are happening to other people's lives. Maybe this is a reminder that we have our own lives to live but there will always be a time wherein we have to take notice. Is it because it makes us less selfish if we look around us and smile to a stranger or hand a coin or two to someone asking you for it? It could mean mostly anything. 

And you were walking around on a bright day and met someone. Someone who's going to make you smile for the rest of your life. Someone who will make you cry and stand up at the same time. Someone whom you can share your feelings, your life with. Someone... and then a kiss. A promise. The memories. Someone you will love. Someone.. how strange. You don't even know his name and you look at where you are, staring into the passing cars with your head in the clouds.

It's just gone.  

A Call from the Elephants

How can one call herself as an artist when she herself is confused of her own being? Surrendering or thinking about getting fulfilled by art is not some mere vogue of stereotyping. That person is struggling, perhaps, wandering around the basis of her existence and trying to locate and chart her place where she belongs. Thinking too much is a habit of that artist, up to the extent of nauseating her own self with complex and absurd things that lead to nowhere. Feasibly, she should try to be friends with her own thoughts but where does the majestic "Gnothi Seauton" fall into?

Maybe that scuffling artist has her own varied way of understanding things, things that even shallow people can understand but on the other hand they have a way of seeing and absorbing her ideas in a different manner, different time, and different image. Then she sits alone, somewhere serene in the heart of the city, bounded by two different churches and crossed by the trees beside her, thinking about her own unbalanced life. She said to herself that life is not that simply confusing but she made it all to hard for her to succumb.

Somewhere in her life she met a girl like her. She can still remember the fresh pangs of irritation that was brought upon to her by the girl for she sees her own faults inside the girl's soul. How can she not recognize the same call that was once used against her just to bring her into what made herself be someone like she is now? Unpredictable and violent her heart may be but there is something beyond this girl, something that can surprise anyone who have spoken badly about her.

What makes sense inside her now may not make sense after she wakes up. What she feels now may subside due to the stirring of her soul that will take place once she is sleeping. Funny the way it is how she thinks about Love every time she's about to sleep, tossing and turning in her bed, wishing that wonderful things will happen to her heart, but yet she panics and there is consternation within her every time she thinks of love and all that it is. Her thoughts send spark and trickling pains of discomfort, choking her own thoughts back from where they came from with fear that she cannot experience the hospitality of love that she has long been wishing for since she was still innocent.

A call was all that she needed. A call from the Elephants who are waiting for the rain to pour.