dont read this.

have been too swell these days
not quite calm enough to write my favourite 'riddles'
please wait. i'll be back.

just that i want to write about myself again. (am i really too self-occupied? too egotistic?)
always, always preoccupied by distant, abstract, perhaps meaningless bewilderments.
what a fuss, what a turmoil, what a self-imposed, perhaps destructive trouble i have made to madden myself.

i have read a friend's post (yay, one of the zillion posts on facebook)
he says he's a cynical
he says he hates people who cares for only themselves.

the first respond i made was "yay! i agree."
i have always considered myself cynical
no offence but really not quite interested in brandnames, makeups, jewels, lottery. chic gadgets (hell my ipod was a gift from a bank.)
people just arent supposed to live too luxuriously. living luxurious implies that you have taken from the poor; getting a bigger slice of the pie you do not deserve.
well, i mean i can be self-contradictory. i talk about them with friends at times. that's socialising. to socialise you engage you do sth in addition to talking.

but have i actually been brainwashed while 'socializing'? am i really that steady enough, kept feet firmly tucked on my ground, being unswayed by this materialistic word? can i really claim myself to be the down to earth, the low profile, the modest? NO, hell no i can be sure.

certainly i was an arrogant youth (perhaps i still am). the braggie boastie. the proud the narrow-minded. am i still i aint sure cant tell.

not saying that fashion or whatever is all evil, but becoming too obsessed about it does shape your values erode your capability to appreciate the humblest the simplest. the simplest the best the most natural.

what is civilisation? what is progress? i feel like the backwardest.
"it's the best of times. it's the worst of times."

maybe we're helpless. born and raised in this society, city of finance and commerce, the money place. what we do is trade and buy. hardly get the chance to really make sth from scrape. cannot quite experience the joy of producing sth ourselves. i used to make cards for fds n family, now i buy one, perhaps a hallmark (that's a brandname lol). geez. it's fast and saves my labour. geez. cant even spare the time to make a card but i stalk on fb. awful n pathetic.

so i aint really...the outcast.
cynical at mouth. the hypocrite.
losing the balance, losing my ideals, losing myself getting lost.
feeling bad n want to puke at myself.

*hey mosquitoes. get out of my room. stay away from my house.
i m afraid of all insects...

kept unconcluded unresolved
life mysteries

Prosey

is too burdened by her habits.

still the shy the timid the passive the awkward the outcast
still the outsider
still the play shy and get regret
still the pathetic arrogant

the door is not locked
neither are people inside the party room hardly pulling the door lest prosey would slip in
the jerkhead refuses to step over the threshold

all friendly signs are shown
the welcoming hand on your shoulder, heavy enough to make you believe that it's genuine
you feel the weight of the friendship
the naughty pat on your pat
the airy hug the slimy lick the glossy kiss
you hear her soft voice
i melts
you see her eyes twinkle stares sparkle
you see her signs of love
a train a wave of words hurricaning outward engulfs you
im drown
i frown
im frozen
in the goddamn boiling hot tub
i melts
flesh turning from raw pink to deadly bloody red
pinkie margaret
bloods mix and tuft, crystallize into diamonds of blossoms and flakes
that's imtimacy

perhaps i evaporates
whitie misty invicible invincibly climbs up the ladder of jests
the high pulling mast
flag floating in the wind
it gets mad
shooting bullets of tantrums into the sea
in midst of mysteries
the far song of dead birds deafens my ears
drums fluttering liquid resonantes in my inner dark caves
is that an albatross?
the jerkhead asks.

clouds over my head spread and shrink
consistently changing colour forever changing shape
white sheep grey cotton pick marshmallow orange splashes of juice
gold sand red cliff from which the killer dives and kills himself
he commits suicide (my best expression)
pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew (descending pitch) bom! and blash!
flashes the second freezes the man
ding and beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep (ascending then an eventual sudden stop) thing comes to a perfect end.