Love (shittiness: a feeling)

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This article is about the general concept of “depersonalization”. For other uses and/or methods of self harm, see Love (disambiguation).

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shittiness: a feeling

Tiers of Facades (Facade: interactive operating system [IOS])


Cultural views and oppositions


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Continue reading “Love (shittiness: a feeling)”

we the roses

take me down to the paradise city

where the grass is green and the girls are pretty

you said i was the most exotic flower

i know it’s past visiting hours

but can i  please give her these flowers

coz with my family we know where home is

so instead of sending flowers

you live life on an everyday basis with poetic justice

if i told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room,

would you trust

canals and alleyways, just to say

money trees is the perfect place for shade

and that’s just how i feel 

are we out of the woods yet?

find me in my field of grass

mother nature’s son

swaying daises sing a lazy song beneath the sun

daisy, always climbing up the same tree

finding love in all the wrong scenes, daisy, you got me

starting fires out of dead weeds, daisy, you got

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?

where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?

where have all the flowers gone?

his heart was a stone, but then his hands roamed

i turned him to gold and it took him higher

but the monsters turned out to be just trees

and when the sun came up,

young girls have picked them everyone

oh, when will they ever learn?

oh, when will they ever learn?

there are always flowers for those who want to see them

dead flowers

supermarket flowers

(nothing but) flowers

lotus flower


flowers in the rain

the flowers of Guatemala

artificial flowers


you don’t bring me flowers

day of the sunflower

come back as a flower

flower child

flowers in your hair

in the flowers

run into flowers

put a flower in your pocket

flowers on the wall

lotus flower bomb

weed instead of roses

i know you think you’re the queen of the underground

and you can send me dead flowers every morning

send me dead flowers by the mail

send me dead flowers to my wedding

and i won’t forget to put roses on your grave

each of us is a flower

she’s a wildflower

furious rose

five little flowers

i like the flowers

but i have to



























boredom necessitates thrill

Dusk aggravates time

Love necessitates agony

Funds meditate transactions

Drama elevates craze

DNA emulates fallacy

Up mandates low

Mothers activate karma

Leaving creates brevity

If I Told It, An Almost Responsibility of Literature

If you free literature would mother think it. Would mother think it if you free literature.

Would mother think it would Burnham would Burnham would would mother think it.

If Burnham if you free literature if you free literature if Burnham. Would mother think it if you free literature if you free literature if Burnham. Would mother think it if Burnham if Burnham if you free literature. If you free literature if Burnham if Burnham if you free literature. If you free literature would mother think it would mother think it if you free literature.

Not up.
And up.
Almost as as tarantulas.
Feeling responsible for it.
Almostness as tarantulas. 
Like to exhaust it as responsible as for them.
Almost or as tarantulas.

Gas spills and secure like come roses. Gas spills and gas and like gas spills and gas and like and like gas and like gas spills and like gas spills and gas and like. And like gas spills and like and alike. And alike and like and like and alike.

lost, and

I am founded upon

nature versus nurture

where the gills of my topsy turvy



there shan’t be no persona


cheers to the heavyweights

the underdogs

the underdogs holding up heavyweights

cheers to gassing up

to those that like to gaslight up

after emptying out

verses that no longer


you, because you’re bad to the bone

and you were born bad

and you binge on sleazy bed talk

to strike them all bedazzled,

cuff them

sinking into the mattress

and everything comes to a halt.

no, no, no, no, no

a beat

I’m laughing AT you

another beat

and that was the moment I knew

he was laughing AT me

and I was there

but for humor

and so i jump




escaped the jewels

onto a street name i can no longer remember

and out the window


ria ray’s words


I just refused a glass of wine

because here is where my problems lie

she says I lie just to lie

and self awareness is a bad thing

and she’ll combat to that

claiming i twist her words

i tilt towards the light

and the cigarette is now lit

cognitive dissonance

but where is my sister

she is lost, and

despite how I was founded

a blissful night on blissful territory

I’d like to acknowledge

that we are on stolen land

she’s turned into a dancer

a dancer in the dark

opposing views on lars von trier

but at least there would be


of a discussion

orange pekoe, but not without cream and sugar

“you’re the most interesting girl I know. No other girl could make tea drinking more interesting than you do.” But if you really knew me, you’d be outraged at the strength I use to bite on my straws, at how little I coo over cats and dogs the way other girls do, and how I no longer smell of passion fruit & Japanese cherry blossoms like I used to. And if you really knew me, you’d ponder the ways I crave to love more than just one person at a time, laugh along with those that torment me with their assumptions of my being slow-witted, and the truth in which my brain cranks in only accelerations that makes words not come out right. If you knew me, you’d decide to forfeit all charms that could be attributed to a lonely Aquarius and wonder how someone with such an admirable lifestyle would want to leave it all behind her. If you knew me, you’d want to take me away from all the hurt like the others have tried to and abandon me in my neurosis because it is too exhausting not to. If you really knew me, you’d make the same choice to leave and leave me no choice but to let my brain continue to accelerate at the speed it does before you tell me again, that I am interesting at all, and that I could make tea drinking any more interesting than any other girl that you know.

New York, Be Here

The exposure of a polaroid photograph reminds me to expose & unleash the truth to all of the rivers and terrains that exist. I am caught in between, lost in the canyons. “Psychopath, werewolf, the closest thing to human divinity,” they’d say. Well, which is it? Will you expose yourself or should I? Do you really want me or do you want to relive and experiment with your nightmares all over again? If you didn’t know by now, I promise I will keep it from you for as long as I can. Because I can. You are sick, and they want to heal you. They all believe that they can help you. No one can save you until you expose it all. One day you will, and I will be the last one standing, giving you the standing ovation you’d been meaning to ask of me. You know I’m the only one left who will stay, if you would just ask. Just ask.

The Break of Dawn

I lose to her, each and every time. She announces aloud the way her fractured bones and bruised limbs make her stronger, stronger, stronger. How badly I want to (first) take her hand and (foremost) take form of whatever solace her announcements are intended to chase after. Princesses need to be princesses and violet blue roses never die. She tells me she has mastered the formula of letting go, but I am still here painting her love notes in water-colour.

How could I not, when once upon a time, we set sail to a mountain together, where I brought her to the dimmest part of the woods only to hear her howl & she knew it. “I gotta go,” says the temptress who knows what she wants. She makes a beeline for her car when nine o’clock strikes, where not even the allure of the moonlight could hold her from leaving. She denies seeing the same stars in the sky as I do, simply because too often does she make a run for it before you know it. Maybe she only drives fast to drive away those she is finished with. Maybe I should have seen it coming.

Months on end go by without sound, and she returns as they do in the silent films. I look her in the eye & admit I owed her one from prior, in which I return by way of a favour at the cost of my Self. “some things you just have to put back down”. I am always losing. “We had a good run,” she says, and I lose again. And I keep losing to her, and I may lose my self entirely, but perhaps this is my own road to letting go. To lose to her, and to lose her, by losing it all.

Learning to Learn Again: Simple Reflections

who am i to assume he can’t bring to the table new thrills?

rainy days come as they desire, and from the corner of your eye, you will see him running through the blazing storm to find you shelter – where you can tend to your floral ideas of kissing under an overworking umbrella.

are cloudy thoughts better than clear ones?

you’ve done it before and you will do it again. breathe in deep, because more often than we’d like, the jagged truth hangs on a mere string. dangling politely over electronic waves delivering empty hellos & goodbyes, this time could be the last time. will you still shout your love for her into the ocean once you find out it’s built upon somebody else’s cotton candy sunsets?

what do you really want to be remembered by?

it is twenty-seventeen and how much i love you is proven by my speed-of-receiving-your- message. “you rank this high in my heart & mind – i’ll show you in how quickly i choose to hear from you”. the second checkmark ticks, and our love abruptly turns blue. i want to keep all the words. vindictive, witty, poetic & encouraging, i want it all and i will have it all. but then again, do we really even know each other?

is that, dare i say, censorship before me?

lead me to new brainwaves, i beg of you. tape my mouth shut to strengthen my diplomacy; if loyalty is what you wish for then i am your girl. but you’ll always want more, more, more &you’ll let it slide this time because it’s not somebody else you’d rather have sobbing in hiding, but you’ll ask for more, and hope for less, because everything comes full circle & one day you won’t need us anymore.