Can you buy me a dream?
A real one, one that pulses and breathes like a living being.
Yes I think, I can.
Could you get me one, when you go to the market. And don't forget a pretty little cage and a really really sharp knife. So, that the cuts are perfect.
We don't want jagged edges do we?
Hanedin: Why doesn't she believe me?
Kaya: Maybe she believes you? But how does she know that you aren't fooling yourself? Why should she think that you have changed?
Hanedin: She shouldn't. I hope she doesn't. I don't think I have changed. I don't think that she would want me to change.
Kaya: Then what would she want?
Hanedin: She would want me to do, what I think is right.
Kaya: And what may that be?
Hanedin: To be there?
Kaya: With her...
Hanedin: With or Without, it is not important. I need to be there. That is all I need, that is all I desire.
Kaya: You are a coward.
Hanedin: Yes, hence I am practical.
Kaya: Weirdo!
***
Kaya begun as a person, now she has become a part of me. She keeps me sane at times.
I probably would not have published this, had I not been so sleep deprived. I have an espanol paper tomorrow, I shall flunk it. Sigh, but then I did well in my exam. I am pleased. As punch I think...
I wanted to believe you would win?
The black raven's song, a caress, shoddy shades of clotting blood.
The Bottle, broken like shattered dreams.
The trembling heart. Closed my eyes.
Did not wish to see. Lived in an illusion.
Some thoughts, invented. Placed carefully. Built a new world of intangible thoughts.
I wanted to believe.
Have you ever wanted to kill someone.
No, wait.
Let me rephrase that...have you ever wanted to hurt someone...see that person in pain.
Oh! So much pain...
Have you ever wanted to feel the panicked pulse of someone's throat while your calloused fingers force themselves mercilessly. Driving every iota of life-saving oxygen out of their system.
Have you ever wanted to just let the caustic hate rise up within you, the kind of animalistic hatred that would allow you to sink your teeth into someone's throat, and rip it apart. The kind that would allow you to feel the blood gush out onto your willing teeth while you smiled at the expression in the eyes of the dying man.
Have you ever wanted to explain to a man patiently and explicitly exactly how you shall make him beg for death, while you tortured him...slowly.
Have you ever wanted to feel the tantalizing pleasure of doing such a thing?
***
I don't want anyone to comment on this piece.
This song, particularly this version is very important for me. I shall explain soon.
| Your Porn Star Name Is... |
 |
| You Are 64% Evil |
 You are very evil. And you're too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot. |
| How You Are In Love |
 You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You give completely and unconditionally in relationships. You need your space and privacy. You don't like to be smothered. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You are fickle and tend to fall out of love easily. You bounce from romance to romance. |
| You Are 98% Tortured Genius |
 You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood. Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island. |
| You Can Make 94% of Your Crushes Fall in Love With You |
 Admit it, you can seduce practically anyone. And sometimes you try just for fun. You're a total heartbreaker that knows when to play it cool. You are the type of person people go completely lovesick over. Just use your powers for good, okay? |
| Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Cruel Intentions |
 "I'm the only girl you can't have, and it kills you." |
| Your Personality Is Like Acid |
 A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict. One moment you're in your own little happy universe... And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell! |
| You Are a Martini |
 There's no other way to say it: you're a total lush. You hold your liquor well, and you hold a lot of it! |
Your Vampire Name Is... |
 |
He was driving back home. He did not even know why he went back, nothing really awaited him there. His house seemed to sense his loneliness and claw at him.
He wished he had her , but most of all he wished he had told her how wonderful she had looked the night she drove away.
Anyone can write a story.
So the little boy tried. He wrote and conjured a tale about happiness and magic, tinted with magical shades of love.
And now the little boy has grown up.
As he looks for the story, he realizes that anyone can write a story.
Only now his words reverberate in third-person.
He felt like a new man. A brand new man, squeaky clean. Each part of him fresh and clean with the kind of cleaniness that no amount of polishing can endow in something old. No, he definitely felt new. More alive in a way.
Maybe it was the way the sun was carving it's way through the cloud early in the morning before the oppressive heat gets to you. Maybe it's way the tendrils of steam slither their way up from his cup of morning coffee to greet him. There was just something that he couldn't really put his finger on.
It's all different now. His words no longer scribble and tremble with an unacknowledged sense of hopelessness. Neither do they overflow with the gushing, diabetic, pink happiness that bollywood prophesises and is normally associated with the first person. His words, they seem to have found themselves, just like what he would like to think...He had done.
It had rained the night before. He had watched as he lay on his bed, the water as it mingled with the rays of the incandescent streetlight, forming a glorious shower of diamonds. The morning smelled of rain; As he twirled his finger absent-mindedly and sipped his coffee. He realized that he was alive.
He was alive, bursting with things he wanted to do. Desires that he must fulfill, things to experience, places to explore. He was alive and there was so little time and so much to do.
The phone rang, (breaking the far away soft hue of the radiohead song playing in his room in the other side of the house) he was glad.
