Vulva, n.:

There was a girl who never liked people but loved going to elsewhere full of it. Until one night, with a stick of smoke hanging on the corner of her deadly crimson lips and a glass of violet toxic embraced by her long lady fingers, she decided to vanish visibly--eternally--lie in the sweet calm fire knowingly--endlessly.
("Gertrude" 23/01/13 ; Artist: "A.")


In spite of beauty and serenity in the midst of her paradise, she the princess is still lost within her own and is still uncertain about the purpose of her being. Certain questions circle her kingdom, certain doubt strikes her pure heart of white. Why can't love reach the blinding lights ... Why can't love be the blinding lights.
("Emily" 21/10/12 ; Artist: "A.")















Wants acceptance, wants love. Just like a flower that floats on air, gently riding the invisible palm of God. She wants someone to catch her; catch her beauty and simplicity; catch her faults and difficulties.
("Mandy" 18/07/12 ; Artist: "A.")

Zombie, n.:

source: gniniar.wordpress.com

I know love when I feel one. Just like how I know it's a bitch when I see one, and how to avoid it the way I dodge a volleyball when it's flying straight towards my face. But somehow, this me-knowing-everything kind of thing is freaking me in for some instances. Like, it makes me mad and want to scream as if a dumbfuck elephant in the midst of the wild, but still I prefer to shut my mouth and keep it all to myself. That's how I freak in. It's as if there is a party inside my body and at the same time, a war in my head. Anyway, the point is I want to feel love like how I felt it before: Pure. Genuine. Distilled. I know it's all cheese but for fuck's sake! Can't this guy be happy for real this time?

For quite some time, I've been sitting in the Stool of Torment and lying on the Bed of Roses. Nobody notices my pain and wounds that are caused by the wedges and thorns because there is no blood gushing out of my body. And the only reason for it is that I'm all dried up. I'm dead. And I need someone to revive me because honestly, I feel like a zombie now; searching and searching for someone to eat when instead, I should be looking for somebody who would find joy in satisfying my appetite by feeding me everything I need. Does that even make sense? Anyway. I want someone to love me. To say she loves me. To show me she really does. And to say it again and again and again and again! I want her to love me the way I want to be loved.

Come on! Where are you, uhm... er... soulmate?

Where the fuck are you?

Eat me!

And I'll eat you back!

Boundary, n.:

TITLE: Line Between Love and Death

By: Sebastien Angelo

-

One morning, I woke up and saw

Your hair leftovers on the pillow

And the empty sheets beside my body.

I walked my baffled heart to Dead City.

One noon, I sat down by the river

And heard footsteps that made me quiver.

I looked back and found you leaving,

So I walked my wonky heart through your grieving.

One teatime, I spent it with you.

We had fun watching the sun fall on cue,

But then you disappeared like a bubble.

I walked my lonely heart in your trouble.

One twilight, I ran to the rooftop

And met you on the opposite ledge.

Scarily, you cried your final pledge,

So I walked my frozen heart between the gap.

One midnight, I opened my eyes

And breathed in the fact on the wind:

You are now as cold as ice

But I'll walk my broken heart to you, my darling.

Pussy, n.:

There are times that we are afraid to move forward. Times that we just want to remain seated in the past. Times that we bury ourselves together with the tragic memories. I would love to say it's normal for us to feel sorry about our lives. To feel sorry about the things that we need to leave behind but actually can't--that little by little, start to define who we are in the present. I really think it's fine to feel sad about something, but it's not always like that. It must not always be like that, because sadness is not the answer. Although sometimes somehow it helps. But I guess, the only way to solve a problem is not to think there is a problem.

I just had a serious break-up with my girlfr. It was a real pain. It was tragic. She used to be my world, and I don't know if I used to be hers too. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, my love for her wasn't any kind of love I would give to anybody else. She's so special. And I felt special everytime I was with her. Honestly, I don't know what made me feel special. And mostly, I lack certainty if I was really special. All I know is I trusted her way too deep and too much even though Trust with a capital "T" is not something I give for free, and all I cared about was to make her feel happy and lucky to be mine. Sadly, the love we shared together got shattered into pieces because of something we are both uncertain. And just because of that, we're now looking at each other like complete strangers in the dark.

After our curtain fell and closed, I wear nothing but a fake smile. Well, it's not really fake. It's just that whenever I smile or laugh, at the back of my mind I know I am not genuinely happy. And I do this because I don't want anyone to know I'm in trouble. I don't want to bug someone out because of my miseries. It's my problem, and so I'll be the one to solve it. But sometimes I think it's kind of unfair to my part, because I always try my best to fix someone else's agony. On the other hand, I don't want to look at it that way. I just want to help everyone, and also be the one to help myself. It's my choice, anyway. I choose to be tough. But this toughness is about to crack up now. It's like in the middle of the morning, the sun would say hello through the window, as if it has something good to offer. But before I could move a limb or even a strand of my hair, I wouldn't help to ask God why he let me wake up again. I know I'm too young to think about these kinds of stuff, but pain doesn't choose age. It strikes when it rains. Just like a thunder.

I'm trying so hard to move forward and leave the past, but the cycle keeps on spinning, leading me to a roundtrip: I get hurt, I cry, I stop crying, I smile, I try to live and be happy again, and then I get hurt for another time. No matter how hard I try to accept the fact that she's not coming back anymore, that our love is not going to be the way it was before, that I will soon try to be with another girl--and she will too, I still can't let go of the happy memories we created. I'm still holding on to the hopes of our once perfect relationship to be that perfect couple again. Most of the time, I convince myself I'm alright. But everytime I stand in front of the mirror, all I see is pain. It is painful. Very painful. And the pain is the kind of pain that doesn't make sense anymore. It keeps striking my insides. And I feel like I'm going to collapse because nothing's left inside me. It's slowly eating me every single day, and it's really gibberish.

I admit I was not a good boyfr. There were times I failed to show her what she wanted to see, to tell her what she needed to hear, and to make her feel what she must feel. And I am sorry for that. Really. Seriously.  And I also know it's too late for that. I was just scared. I'm a pussy. But that doesn't mean I didn't love you for real.


Fuck!


I used to be my own soldier, but I guess I can't save myself forever.
I need you.

I miss you. So much.

Teaser, n.:

""Why do we need love? Why do we fall in love? Why do we have to love somebody? Why do we love to love somebody? Why do we need to be loved by somebody? Why, why love?" he asked. Seemingly endless. For a second, I thought his lips would never stop spitting sharp question marks to my face. Luckily, he ran out of breath and strength to think for another. I quite rejoiced inside, in fact. Then, I suddenly felt pain travelling with blood around my body. It was almost unbearable that I was almost ready to cut out my life by ripping my own head off. And when I realized that it wasn't just pain, that it was guilt, the twinges transformed into numbness immediately. I couldn't feel anything anymore. Even the thick gust of icy wind coming from the open window at the right side of his room, just above the headboard of his bed. That's the trouble with being asked. Albeit you already admitted to yourself that you don't know the answers, you'd still feel the urge, the guilt and the responsibility to respond. To give him a mouthful of answers that would satisfy his thirst.

"You give yourself a lot of 'Whys' and you expect someone else to give you the 'Because,'" I finally retorted. And he was all ears. Like a 5th grader trying hard to chew the unconventional words of his boring History teacher. "It's like you're trying to solve for the X plus Y equation when you haven't even found the X yet. Just the Y. A lot of Ys, as a matter of fact. So when you try to write it down or press it on your calc, nothing will come out but 'Syntax Error.' And that's what my answer to you right now: Syntax Error. Your Y is too much, too high, too big, while your X is empty and still unknown. I guess you should find the X first, and then we'll try to solve the equation together. Deal?"

"What if the X is you and the Y is me? Would that be enough to give me my 'Because?' Because I think that's it. That's my problem," he replied. I think I kind of blushed. But I knew I must not. Girls should never show the electric gush that swims through our bodies whenever a guy offers us the sweetest combination of nerdy words possible, and what it does to us, and how crazy it makes us.

“Don’t be silly.” I laughed. But he didn’t, so I stopped. “So, is it a deal? Look for your X?” I asked, trying to redirect the matter. But he turned away from me instead, and faced the body mirror hanging lengthwise on the wall. It didn’t change anything at all, because I could still see his features through his reflection. And I have to admit, he was really good-looking. His angelic face always told me I was safe with him. And it always felt like we were together in some kind of paradise everytime I looked in his calm green eyes. Just like in that moment. I could hear the harp playing of the angels around us. I could see clouds behind us through the mirror. I could smell the scent of eternity. All this, right behind him.

“I know I ask a lot of questions about love, but I don’t really need a lot of answers to believe it. I just need a single word that would make me believe in us. That would make me hold on to you,” he whispered. I melted and froze at the same time. I didn’t know what to do, but gumption made me hug him from behind. It was such a euphoric feeling in an agonizing moment. I don't know how that could be, but I knew that I gave up. I finally gave in. I didn’t want to, but I knew then I’ve fallen in love with him. With the guy who doubted love. With the guy who never believed in anything. With the guy who was lost in abstract.

Despite the ecstatic romance binding us together, something was making me neglect it and regret my being too easy to him. I must not let myself fall and get lost with him as well. I must find my way back home. But how could I when he’d made me feel at home already?"

Deviant, adj.:

Never ever believe in love, for it is the slowest form of suicide. It is the same as jumping off a cliff, cutting your wrist with a blade, or stabbing yourself with a new sharpened knife. It does give you nothing but pain and agony. And the ecstasy you think you're feeling, in fact, is just a product of your own desperate and vivid imagination.

source: modificatuiphone.com

There's no such thing as love. And even if there is, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. It leaves your heart out in the open, making it a piece of cake to break into tiny pieces until all the debris is finally gone with the grey wind of melancholia. Love is a thought, not an emotion. Therefore, you should not take it and make it as the center of your life for the reason that emotions ruin everything. They raise the tendencies of you being predictable, vulnerable and breakable. You need to keep in mind that your brain must always be stronger than your heart. You have to act and to be tough and that you can love yourself just by yourself. Because time will come, it's just you and your shadow against the world. No one will be there to save you from something. Nobody will give a fuck. Purely nothing will ever be lovely, you'll see.

Chain, n.:

Why are girls always in a hurry to reach the midst of a gray day when a Knight-in-Shining-Armor would come and save them from their respective creepy towers? Why can’t they just calm their fine asses back on the couch and forget all the fuss in waiting and searching for the Prince Charming that does not even exist, and just enjoy the singing birds that land on the windowpane? Well, nobody knows the right answer. But I, at least, could try to state some facts about this gobbledygook called “Love,” and why it sucks because of Beyoncé. No, not literally Beyoncé. But she is the one who promoted femme fatale by her stupid song Run the World, wasn’t she? So, there… you get the point.

photo from tumblr.com

1. Girls are hopelessly desperate and desperately hopeless. I lack certainty to what difference the two make, but I’m sure as hell that they’re not the same. Some real shit must be clinging on there somewhere. Anyway, girls are always up to some magical connection and weird things like that, for example a guy says Hi to her once, or they both love reading books, or they watch the same anime, or they eat the same junk, or they shit with the same awkward toilet position… Kapow! He’s already the long-lost soulmate. And what’s worse is when he turns this amazing-yet-uncomforting proposal down, he’d suddenly and absolutely appear as a douchebag sent from hell. And the worst part is because of him, she’d promise to herself that her heart won’t ever beat to love again. What the heck? I mean, he was just trying to be nice, and yet she was taking it as something more personal. Was it his fault? Classic!



photo from chrisnackers.com

2. Girls see life as an arcade game and guys are their joysticks. They think that the only way to win the match is to tighten up the grip on the controller and move it wherever they please. It’s like manipulation really is their key to victory, which guys hate. If truth be told, if there’s something more unbearable than girls on period, that’d be girls in control. WE GUYS HATE IT! “Text me where you are,” “Tell me who you’re with,” “Call me right now and tell me what you’re doing,” “Why does it take too long for your reply,” and some other nerve-racking questions and commands that are sprinkled with unacceptable suspicions. We have balls inside our boxers, okay? We’re men! And you better make us feel that, otherwise we’re done and gone.
3. Girls swim in a pool of fantasy and drink from the fountain of libido. Okay, this one is going to be weird but you can probably handle it. It’s just my very obnoxious way of saying that girls have the dirtiest and wildest imaginations ever (whether they admit it or not), and these things their minds construct set fiery expectations that could burn them down to gray ashes. I’m not going to elaborate further because I don’t want to get castigated by this, so I’ll end it with just a few honest words: Girls create an extraordinary eerie and kinky future with their crushes behind the bars of their extremely colorful brains.

photo from tumblr.com

I can go on and on and on forever listing the cute factory defects of these wonderful creatures called “Girls,” but I don’t think I will because I don’t have that forever. I’ll just say that yeah, girls are pretty fucked-up and unpredictable and reckless and stupid… but so are we, guys. We are too awful that we can never be your Prince Charming. Never. And it’s because we’re wicked by nature. We’re just a magnificent hybrid of either good-looking or shit-faced tit-suckers. We’ll sleep with you, we’ll leave you. We’ll make you feel loved, and then we’ll break your heart. But just like what clichés say, there’s a reason for everything. And the reason why we’re like this is because we were broken once… of course, by a girl.