rant.

I'm alive. (I'm telling this to myself.) 

I know I haven't paid this blog my usual depressing visit in a while, but I'm around. Trying to protect my mind from the thoughts that reappear like that adamant zit every time I think it's gone.

I have lots to say, but don't have the energy to collect my thoughts and write. I'm currently working as I'm writing this as I'm feeling quite low. Like, any moment if someone asks 'How are you?' I might crumble down into tears and despair.

Anyway... will continue later. unable to write.

 

NaPoWriMo prompt Day 4: A surreal prose poem

what is love, really?

is it mindlessly romanticizing the butterflies of your imagination?

or is it the short-lived honey-dipped so-called "never-ending" conversations?

is it to quietly blur the boundaries between consent and acceptance?

or is it to blindly allow the violation of your body that slowly shatters your existence?

is it longing for that intimacy which may go astray if the going gets tough?

or it is normalising the infidelity despite having that privilege of being loved?

is it that unadulterated desire to be with the person you have set your heart on?

or is it this shallow feeling wrapped in an inherent fear of loneliness you might have to live on?

what is love, really?

Yeah, I know... an old poem... this is cheating... whatever! *blowing raspberries*

NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 5: Write your own poem about how a pair or trio of very different things would perceive a blessing or, alternatively, how these very different things would think of something else (luck, grief, happiness, etc).

Umm... why in the devil's name do these NaPoWriMo guys give such complicated titles? Anyway, see you tomorrow!

NaPoWriMo prompt Day 3: a blah non-love poem

Here I come with the third lame-ass NaPoWriMo prompt: A poem not about a romantic partner, but some other kind of love.

it's not easy to like someone 

from a distance

a distance you know 

you'd never want to meet

a distance that separates 

the dead from the living

their memories haunt you

long after they are gone

their shadows linger

in the corner of your room

coercing you to come along

their bloodless icy fingers 

leave scars on your body and soul

they turn your cute dreams  

into ghastly nightmares

yes, these demons, 

they like you 

but from a distance

and sometimes, 

they curse you to 

cross over, and when you do...

you finally meet that distance

Prompt for Day 4: A surreal prose poem (Isn't this today's poem somewhat like that? Urgh... anyway)

NaPoWriMo: Prompt 2 - (some long-ass title)

Prompt 2- without consulting the book, write a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time.

(this ain't a poem, but a short story).

a chill went down my spine as I read how an inebriated, crazy narrator gouged the eyes out of his beloved black cat using a cute penknife.

you know what? he didn't stop at that.

he later slipped a noose around its neck and hung the "unoffending" creature on the tree and watched it die.

why? didn't I tell you at the beginning that he was crazy? His "spirit of perverseness" got the better of him apparently.

it made my twisted, deranged teenage mind want a black cat, not to harm, of course, or so I thought.

bewitched by this tale, i began scouting a black cat on one quiet midnight with a cleaver under my coat.

I found one sleepy black feline plopped on a warm car bonnet with its tail all cutely curled up like a charcoal croissant. I quietly picked its tail up and with one swift blow i chopped it all off.

the cat's jet-black fur stood on its end; it yelped so loud that it startled me. stupid cat. i quickly ran back home carrying its black bloody tail along.

I kept the tail in an empty souvenir jar and placed it next to the other jars i so collected after reading such horror stories.

Prompt for Day 3 is: A poem not about a romantic partner, but some other kind of love (urgh... gross!) I will see if I can come up with something.

NaPoWriMo: Prompt 1 - Window

Ok, I know I'm cheating. This is neither a poem nor the one I came up with today. But why should I give a fuck about that? I will write a 100-word short story or a poem or whatever the fuck I want. My blog, my rules. I don't want to win any prizes nor am I seeking any validation. The only thing I promised myself this month is to be consistent in a couple of things. And NaPoWriMo is one of them. So, here it goes:


That beautiful magpie robin again perched on my window today and woke me with its continuous melodious whistling. It's been a month now. This nuisance, I call it Rob, lands on my window every morning as soon as my eyes feel droopy and I decide to sleep.
I'm a chronic night owl. I generally hate—HATE—early mornings or any mornings for that matter.
So, today, when Rob looked through my window and began whistling, our eyes met. I swiftly picked up my gun and shot Rob in one go. Good riddance, I thought.
The next morning, as I was about to sleep, Rob again perched himself on the window, whistling. Only this time, it was staring at me menacingly with its completely blacked-out eyes.

P.S.: This 100-word short was written in 2023, I guess. Letting you know (not that you asked).

P.P.S: Today's prompt on the website (https://www.napowrimo.net/) is "Today, we’d like to challenge you to write – without consulting the book – a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time." (Yes, I'm not going to religiously follow it.)

unsafe

It's funny how you feel unsafe 

in your own company

like, you're always afraid 

that you'll harm yourself

when left alone

your heart races so fast

as if it's desperate 

to chase death

your body aches 

your mind is lit on fire

sure to disintegrate 

with the slightest blow of 

your haunting memories

anxiety attacks you 

when you're all alone

and unarmed

leaves you gasping for breath 

and wanting self-harm

clueless, dizzy, and exhausted

when I survive this the next day

I pull myself together

and write such clichés 😜

stranger

I met that stranger again yesterday

she told me how ugly i look...

that, eventually, i won't be able to identify myself anymore

that i deserve to live with my sins

that my mind will never find peace, never be sane

what should i do? i ask her

she leaves without giving me any answers

I met her again today

she told me how sad i look...

that when i die, people will forget me in days

that i deserve to not be loved

that my soul will continue to burn 

even after i turn into ashes

tell me, what should i do? i plead

she leaves without giving me any answers, again

when she slides into the mirror 

to meet me tomorrow,

i will smash my head against it 

and make her finally go away

hopefully, that will ease my pain

and never see her again

find me on a moonless night

You know eating that greasy slice of pizza right after your emotional gluttony may invite death... you still eat it... to fill the void in your heart that's aching so bad that it might combust.

You know the needle of that tattoo machine would pierce right through your skin leaving you with a painful, yet beautiful scar... you still ask for it.. to make your empty soul feel beautiful. Also, because you deserve that pain.

You know that being lonely brings back haunting memories of your past and sins... you still long for it... to punish yourself persistently.

There are times when I long for a quick death, and there are times when I feel I deserve to suffer slowly... living with an insane mind for a long time is what serves me best.

When I turn to dust, my powdery remains will be sprinkled across the ocean... you'll find them floating on the turbulent waters and crashing on the rocks every moonless night... struggling to dissolve into the angry tidal waves that once resembled my singed, unhinged mind.