emptiness. When love has dried out, that's all that remains. Residue, sediments of filtered meditated empty space. Love to a cynic, is nothing more than a game that ends in self-destruction. No wonder, I feared it for so long. I can't lose you anymore. I must protect you.

Her sincerity returned. And that virtoil of infactuation had stealthly vanished. I'm glad I don't have to torment... Was I even human back then? Concealed under the curtains of darkness, I witnessed this overwhelming beam of helplessness. Like a virgin of politics, the frost on my lips dampened the uninevitable capture of silence. The stillness...

The splintering blunder shocked through my spine. Noise. Snow flakes. More noise. I had been transplanted into a cleansing of agony...

These are glimpses of my contrived pain. Like watching a blank flickering tv screen in the middle of the night, these are my epithets of serenity.

Arms and legs bundled up on an oversized ash tray. Flames that licked its lips before crackling your condensed limbs. Hell had approached me.

We are all problematic people.

Unfinished.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I've noticed that my writing was lose. The many holes and gaps widened everytime I tried to pick up a pen. The misery of creativity. Moths liesurely guard the thickets of my memory. They clumisly eat away the crumbs that have been left behind. My heart is full. The bellows of this monstrous beast tells me otherwise.

The reason why I left this piece unfinished is because I have to apologise.
......Sorry for such lazy and unattentive maintainence.
...Sorry for fantasizing such miserable demise.
... but now... i must. indulge myself in my forest of imagination, before the sunsets and I am left blind again.

IPPY