ROUGE
Once upon a time, in a little village. There lived a young lady, who ran a bed & breakfast.
One late evening, a young man stepped into the bed and breakfast. He smiled at the lady. But she just had a blank expression.
He cleared his throat and told her the place looked great. She raised an eyebrow and led the man to his room.
As she handed him the keys, she said, ‘‘Do not stare into the mirror tonight. Just do your best to wait to see your reflection in the morning.’’ He nodded his head slowly, and replied, ‘‘All right.’’
But would he listen to the warning. Later that night, he whistled and hummed while brushing his teeth. He heard someone chuckle.
It sounded like it was coming from the mirror. He ignored it and soon walked to his bed.
Then he heard it again. This time it was much louder.
He could not stand it any more. The chuckle kept growing louder & louder, with every passing moment. He turned his head slightly to stare into the mirror.
As soon as he did, it grinned! The thing emerged from the mirror. It looked so much like him.
His indigo eyes started moving back and forth from fright. Whatever was coming toward him at lightning speed was not human!
The man screamed. His reflection twisted his neck. His body fell on the floor.
His eyes were still open wide. It stared at the sight of fear in the dead man’s eyes.
Early in the morning, he got ready to leave the bed and breakfast. The lady wondered why her guest was wearing sunglasses indoors. The man smiled and told her he thought the glasses made him look cool.
The minute he stepped foot outside, he removed the glasses. His eyes glowed bright and red.
#ROUGE
Box
A treasure chest
A Pandora’s Box
That holds what is best
Or contain a pox
Some consider important
Others trivial
Some may find discordant
Others find harmony
Like a box
It is made
It can be carried
Can be shown the contents inside
Through the windows
We call eyes
Warmth, Empathy, Anger, Madness
Envy, Care, Regret
Sadness, Lonliness
Love........
Soul is a box
So what does yours hold?
#poetry
Phoenix
Learning from lessons past
Share quality & wise tips to them
Pass on information to the youth
They will have to create their own path
One they can be happy and proud of
Even through all the bumps on the way
As the journey goes, one thing to know
Is that they should not give up
Keep on going~ ‘n’ rise like a Phoenix!
#Phoenix
19-07-2020. Sundae
Here I Go, Out of Control Again!...
Feeling sick and sly,
or is it slick and high?...
Not sure which or whether the later...
...saw you postioned on the top rung of your ladder...
Why are you there/when will you fall
to a place where we can talk this out?...(you're so remote!)...
...Right now you only fuck about
when I need for a better answer...
Rome was not built in a day, and all your posturing
it only says how cruelly incomptent are your ways...
I think your kind's seen better days...
Your brain is festering on a tray
out on the lawn where a
passing mutt stops to linger,
then to piss on your pasta primavera that passes for a
simmering cerebellum...
...The fuck you thinking?...
You overwhelm them that dare to dream
while your thick stream of diluted shit's like
a reflective pool of gasoline at some
bowling alley parking lot that's been forgot...
I think I have run out of steam
examining what could of been, but then
you twitch a wretched eyeball in your socket(corner pocket),
and something shudders undercover in a place that seemingly
I can't control...
OH NO!!!!!!...
Why do you continue to insist
on a blighted existence when you should kiss
your life goodbye by walking out
in front of traffic???...
...I now imagine
your arms and eyes and limbs tear off from a bus
when it tears through you at high speeds...
...but still I'm down here,
on my knees
begging for a shriveled piece of pie...
...Oh my, oh my...oh why, oh why???...
...Fuck if I know, but here I go!...
Out of control again!
02-13-20
Slack i Salessie
Goodbye
In a normal, rural town the most fittingly normal woman lived, leading the most monotonous life one could ever imagine. She dressed normally, opting for jeans and a t-shirt nearly every day, and acted normally too, never doing anything out of what was considered to be ordinary. She had plain brown hair and a face one forgets the minute they look away, with the only feature even remotely interesting being her dark blue eyes. But even her eyes weren’t interesting enough to capture anyone’s attention longer than a few seconds, and the woman remained to be one of the most simple, plain people to exist.
However, the one thing that was different about her, her one oddity, was that she carried a small tote wherever she went, beat up and scuffed but there nonetheless. It was a simple leather bag, faded brown with dulled, metal buckles hanging over the fold-over top. It was very worn but clearly well-loved, for she carried it around no matter where she was going.
For the most part, the bag functioned as a normal purse, loyally carrying her wallet, keys, and an assortment of knick-knacks that one never actually puts in their bag, but they end up there nonetheless. But the bag had a purpose besides toting her things around, and that was to carry a letter, to protect it wherever the woman went.
The letter itself had a texture similar to the bag; rough with age and worn down around the edges. Slightly crinkled, the woman had kept the letter in her bag for as long as she could remember, and planned to keep it there for even longer. And keep it there she did, for years upon years until finally, the time was right to remove it.
The woman was at home when she finally took the letter out of the bag. It was the letter’s first breath of fresh air since she had written it herself, and it lay unassumingly on her desk as the woman bustled around it. She moved sluggishly, almost as if in a trance, dragging her chair away from the desk and out of her bedroom.
After a moment the woman returned, lovingly unfolding the piece of paper and smoothing it over the wooden surface of the desk. After a minute of staring at the letter, rereading it carefully, she moved to her closet and undressed, taking off her ratty jeans and bland t-shirt and replacing them with a beautiful black dress, elegantly crafted to fit the contours of her body. She slipped it on, and the ordinary woman became suddenly breathtaking, previously plain fair becoming the most memorable of all.
She sighed, taking one last glance at the letter before reaching under her bed to grab a long, thickly-woven piece of rope. She left the room with an air of certainty and determination, and did not return, not once.
All was quiet in the house for a brief, suspenseful moment before the sound of gagging filled the previously undisturbed silence. A bang echoed through the halls that startled the birds outside into flight, presumably caused by the tipping over of the chair the woman had dragged from the room minutes prior. There were horrible coughs and retches, heart-stopping wheezing gasps for air, before the house fell silent once more, plunging back into its ordinary state in its ordinary town.
-----
Three days later, and ambulance pulled up to the house, parking behind the police car that was already present at the scene. A body was carried away on a stretcher, black folds of fabric peeking out from underneath a white sheet. The police officer, sent to investigate the rest of the house, wandered into a bedroom, filled with nothing but simple bed and even simpler desk.
On the desk, was a letter. And on the letter, was one word.
Goodbye.
sleep with your eyes wide-open
there's too many dreams to be had while your eyes are wide-open and the night is brightest, warm-sharp in the heat of your heartbeat.
can you feel the stars, the moon—? their fires drawing closer in the darkness of the night. the only thing that burns bright.
so dream and dream and wonder and reach out,
—because you can