Sentences just came threading through the tiny gaps of my brain. Like little worms that came to take the apple, they took me over. Paragraphs of stories such forming. I would be in a mood for weaving tales, but it would not be the right time since I'm standing in a crowded bus filled to the brim such that I'm only an inch closer to a molestation case, and whereby my fingers couldn't hit away and dance freely.

I started thinking about people, it happened during work yesterday. And.. Today.. I never know how deep this might get, since it's merely a game of guessing and hypothetically assign a story to them. Which may or may not, accurately or not, depict any point of their history that made them this way. There can no be justification.

Cacophonous voices that trailed among the crowd as people start squeezing in and out of the bus.
We're like talking sardines..

People. Vol 2

*i just need to write a long post to waste time, and after dipping into volume one for inspiration, i'm up once again*

Disclaimer:

this is obviously and absolutely boring work of mine since i'm rooting myself on my computer chair.
im just simply doing this as an act of procrastination for my shower. despite this, all works here are base on my thoughts long ago and any similarities to situations or character is either coincidental or it's basically me being stereotypical.

People. Vol 1

The Many People.

A cheery school girl, who skips to school everyday, humming her favourite melody.
slack to the fullest, copying school work from her studious friend.
the little girl who dance in the rain, holding her hands outwards to the skies, as if touching the many confetti that're thrown to her during the celebration of life.
the wet confetti thrown by the invisible arms from the heavens.
the other way to look at rain in life...

***

The little baby, being strapped onto his mum, his head wobbling in an unstable momentum against his mother's pace down the road. Fascinated, he sees giant machines that looked similar to the mini toy cars he played, roaring loudly across the road, not forgetting the mystical stick which shoots out beams of lights which control the cars, as if the conductor of a major band playing a beautiful symphony.
The naive baby.
"Oh, mummy's moving when it's green light too. So do we gets controlled by that mystical stick when we grow up too?"

***

Threads of white hair can be seen forming on the side, sitting on the red coffeshop chair which everyone knows, he heave his legs off his slippers and rest them on another.
On it's tables are many gleaming bottles that reflected against the old florescent light in the coffeeshop. Lying back his head, he breathed in the burning paper stick wrapped with nicotine and felt smoke work it's way in this body as he draws it down into the lungs. Some crushed bet slips are seen on the floor, probably an act of wrath when felt betrayed by the god of wealth. Streams of smoke came out in line from his nostrils, as if an mechanical dragon.
"Eh Chio eh, Lai Yi Duo Yi Ping Carlsberg!"

***

---

People. Vol 2

Sorrows I

***

The guy who clubs every week, as if like exercise, seeking for love on every wednesday night to numb himself. He is smooth, he could get girls. He's sleek, he drives out every night, hoping the night hound would for a moment engulf his innocent naive self, the one who got cheated and dumped, speeding pass countless lamp lights with a lighted cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Nicotine and alcohol filled his brain and blood

but yet what could fill his empty heart? when girls are just nothing but pouring into his bucket full of holes. They can never be filled you know? 

***

This young girl, looking for love in the virtual world every night. For she would lives in the virtual world, root herself to her chair in front of her pixelated screen. Firing away chat bubbles out to this wide virtual ocean of love, which love is as hard to find as a needle in the sea. It wont stop, her countless chat media, the various beeping sounds which could only signify how hungry she were. Her thirst arises after she broke up years back, she got enough of soaking her pillow with tears. But to no avail, there are many more dark figures lurking than the prince. She'd got her own fair share of failures, but yet she just didn't give up. Yet deep inside she knows that no one is going to save her if she took a bite at the poison apple.

***

His ipod plugged into his ears, more than 12 hours a day, be it walking to school, walking back. He goes out alone, as if seeking for.. an answer. Isolating his schooling life from his personal ones, he would be alone, most of the time, and his ipod would be like a part of him, attach to his ears all the time, as he eats, smoke, stroll around the park looking at people. He can't hear the outside world screaming words of reality at him.

He's a dreamer. And we would never know what is he listening either.

***

Pushing her pram down the outskirts of bugis street, she had a tough time navigating through the crowd. Pulling up the shutter, another day begins as she position her pram before throwing off her bills and receipts chunked sling bag onto the counter. 

Her mind begins to ponders, oblivious to customers who streams in unless summoned. Of her life, of how her decisions caused her to fall. And how that jerk just didn't pay for what he'd done, yet the victim is the one who pays the price after throwing all the cards on the table. 

Sitting down listlessly as she looked at the pram, miniature limbs waving wildly at the noisy crowd. Looks like the baby's gotten use to life too right?

"eh hey, uhm this one how much ah?"

***

Tears stream down the corner of her eyes as she sat by the playground in the middle of the night. She heave a heavy sigh while slowly slitting her wrist with a cigarette her mouth. Swiping her fringe to the side, biting hard on the filer as she saw her wounds open again.. Just like the old times when she found out that he was just toying with her. Sobbing harder than ever, how she hates to face the world in the day, and how she would escape at night. She screams were silent and pain is her friend. How dare he? she love him, deceived by his honey smeared words, which crudely made her open herself to him, and her legs as well. She gave him his all, but yet what was given was not reciprocate. It will never be returned.

She felt like a caged bird. It's like she never left. 

***

Need more brain juice.

(brb)

w

this is so mentally draining.
like how i would drag my heavy feet up this slope that would eventually lead me to my block,
that i would have to wait for 2 traffic lights which always turn red whenever i'm anywhere near them,
and i would drop myself on my chair while i slowly remove my boots, flinging off my socks, and i'll slowly get a little more a life as i light up my cpu, booting my com to live.

i count the days carefully, within my fingers, watching it flies, wasting time.
tuesday today. and it'll be midnight tomorrow.
and i'd been clocking in unhealthy hours of gaming under my belt and i just feel so unmotivated all the time.
i need a push. a call.
i need to move, or to wake up.

fml

whopps. my cover's blow
fuck this shit D:

i feel naked. bare naked.
i felt shame.
shame of myself.

Dear Esther

When gaming gets another perspective.

Dear Esther..

beautiful graphics, good game for quiet nights.



for those who played, here're the known ghost sightings, if you miss'em D:



huat

Girls

PEOPLE USED TO LOOK OUT ON THE
PLAYGROUND AND SAY THAT THE
BOYS WERE PLAYING SOCCER AND
THE GIRLS WERE DOING NOTHING .
BUT THE GIRLS WEREN'T DOING
NOTHING—THEY WERE TALKING .
THE Y WERE TALKING ABOUT THE
WORLD TO ONE ANOTHER . AND THEY
BECAME VERY EXPERT ABOUT THAT
IN A WAY THE BOYS DID NOT.
CAROL GILLIGAN,
In a Different Voice: Psychological
Theory and Women's Development


Ltr I realize it's gossiping.

devil's nest

when the sun sets, the devil comes to play
chilling the air, goosebumps with dismay
for he waste no time,
in the puff of smokes that swim through the air
roaming through your body, your life and your lair
you stood there helpless and you want to cry
but no sound could escape no matter how you try

he skips he hops he flies he smiles
down the little grim dark aisle.
down came the thunder, and then the rain
there your life would forever be stain

you can never run u can never hide
for he would haunt your life until you die
there the devil, lying on his cloud
using his slitted tongue making hissing sounds

weaving your stories with his cursed vines
you life and his, will forever be entwined.
yes he is here, he's here to play
here come's your life darkest bane