Thought.

As she coasts through the city,
She's oblivious to the crowds;
And she wanders on barefoot;
Her thoughts scream aloud:

Is she going to live on happy,
Or does she want to end it now;
Does this life hold no more meaning,
Or is this merely God's trial;

As she stumbles through the alley,
She is clutching at her chest;
And she falls flat on her belly,
Puts it permanently to rest;

Blood is trickling down her leg;
Her breath comes out in gasps;
This is the eleventh hour;
Beyond her looms death;

As she lay there dying,
She is calm and at peace;
Consciousness is slipping,
And her thoughts are at ease:

Her soul is but dispensable;
It gone won't cause a ripple;
And to the world she may be dead,
But really, it's all in your head.

inspiration comes at the strangest times: i wrote this during work, on this dull afternoon while i was falling in and out of sleep periodically. after i wrote it i tried to think of a theme that this poem/short short story fits. i realized it's actually damn random. but to sound professional i should say it follows the development of her thoughts, from confusion and exasperation and doubt, to a morbid acceptance of where she is or is heading in life. the dramatization of her death, as mentioned, is all psychological. is it a reflection of my thoughts presently, i dont even know myself. dont ask me why i always come up with such depressing things, even though i'm generally a happy person.

Fossils

The tip of a pen scratched away at paper, furiously, purposefully. Inking away at thoughts regurgitated, facts spilled out faster than hands can move. Untidy, scribbled cursive font filled the once empty page with a strange consistency, printing paragraphs of ethical theories and conceptual linkages to hypothetical questions. The monotonous chime of the grandfather’s clock echoed in the still atmosphere, piercing the silence like an owl’s hoots in the night.

A cold, lonely night. Where the breeze whirred gently in the ears, whispering, calling. Sending shivers and chills down the spine. The streets void of a lingering soul, the streetlamps light up shadows alone. A stray trotted, hungry and curious, at the sound of the solitary car speeding by the deserted stretch of road, an unexpected change in the vacant night. It paused, sniffed, the senses wary but unexcited, the nerves working and the brain processing, uncovering the stark possibilities of a midnight snack waiting. But the knowledge was clear as reflection in a shiny glass window pane.

Knowledge that the relationship was impossibly fragile, inevitably teetering on its unstable edges. The rainbow sparks of light that once hit the prism were fading into nothingness, into a colourless hole like a bottomless pit.

And at the bottom of the pit there lay a dead body, a decomposing corpse nonchalantly dumped and forgotten eons ago by the heartless soul of criminal intentions. Flies and maggots and cockroaches and termites ravaged their delightful source of protein, savouring everything and leaving behind nothing to salvage save for the skeletal contents widely demanded of scientific research.

Fossils, they call it. 

***

  

this is something different!
i started off by just writing any description of something, which somehow became a description of my ethics midterm paper (which btw hasnt started yet its supposed to be this saturday) and at some point it leads to another topic, and with each topic another description develops from another scenario, and then it leads on and so on. 
i stopped at fossils cos that's where i realize i don't know how and what to describe anymore.
it's kinda fun! its just another version of my plotless excerpts.
although it's still kind of short i think. can be developed more! something i would want to try again when i have more TIME on my hands.

Unspoken

And she lay on the bed,

Stock still, eyes closed,

As if she's dead.

Her face pale,

As pale as sheet,

Her body frail,

Frail and weak.

And I look on helpless,

Unfeeling, unmoving,

As if I'm heartless.

But I am

Tearing up inside,

And I am

Fearing.

Please stay by my side.

I know my poems are horribly amateurish and far from good, but it's much easier to express sometimes, compared to long sentences and paragraphs of words and descriptors. sometimes the simpler things contain deeper meanings. sometimes the simplest words, are hardest to express. the simplest emotions, hardest to describe.

on another note, i found Fiona Xie's blog, an emo-ish site with few entries but mostly beautifully crafted words and phrases, and even poems. one thing she can do huh, is write. surprisingly, i really enjoy reading it. although it sounds really depressing.

http://www.alivenotdead.com/fionaxie/blog.html

these are the kinds of poems i really like! sad, angsty, but yet a really nice use of words.

gosh my adjectives are startlingly failing me.

I dread the day I know.

Is there something I really can't see
Or am I just in denial;

Is he someone who is worthy
Or will I get burned playing with fire;

Will there be a tomorrow
Or will there be no sparks and no desire;

Will I come to a decision
Or will he be the first to tire.

somehow, inspiration always comes in the form of depressing thoughts. sad, angsty thoughts. from a mere sentence that couldnt have meant anything deeper than it was.
and yet.
so therefore,
the title is as such.
he did message thereafter, which put me at more at ease again.
how easy it is to make me happy.