______________________

charmed.
______________________

tried explaining to a friend today,
of how my mind might work.
sounded retarded, possibly pointless,
but perhaps things could be sorted out.
and labelled. classified...
before you cook,
you gotta plan your dishes,
right,
as in, before writing an essay,
you gotta plan it out. map it out.
but let me finish my illustration:

it was seemingly a circular room,
i call it the 'living room',
or the 'lobby'? okay, the 'lobby'.
carpeted, heavily furnished,...
rather dim.
source of light? the moon.
no, the moon is a mirror.
true light from the sun.
mahogany. yes.
parquet.
the lobby is warm, cosy,
my sanctuary of thought.
no. my sanctuary of blank.
zero. nothingness.
there are doors lining the
circular walls of the lobby,
each leading to a room.
each room contains a topic.
what does a topic look like?
a topic is a subject, right,
the door is labelled the topic,
and you enter the room to ponder,
and then you record your
ponderings into a log book,
so that the next time you return,
you might know where you left off.
but right now i'm leaving this room.
-exit-

and then the first thing you said to me,
you complained about your new haircut.
strange way to begin,
but I guess it was a start.
alas! standstill. it was a standstill.
well. you're better off without us,
and,
we're better off without you.
see what courtesy can do?
cluck cluck cluck.

and there are others
infatuated by ya!
someone i know, yeah,
my jaws couldn't help dropping
when i read it.
man... whatever.
human. humanity.
washing our hands off ya.
shrugs.
________________________

____________________________

Shoot Me.
____________________________

I'm angry. Just very angry. Yet somehow the problem can't be nailed. Maybe if our World wasn't so monotonous, if there were true villians and aliens, we wouldn't be like that. Like, maybe a war game or something. We could shoot. Purge. Massacre. Then collect points, save survivors, whatever. We could be knights. Vaders. Whatever. Just let us have a cause for living, have a belief like the Jedis. Okay, we might have a belief, a faith, yet that doesn't guarantee our satisfaction in existing. Fine, you may be satisfied... but I'm so totally not. The New World isn't like what you see outside your window, it isn't so annoyingly orderly and prim and proper. It isn't a World where being armed is an offence, instead not being armed is suicidal. It's a World where, it's every man for himself, when someone dies, you go get his rounds, grenades, whatever. It's a World where lines are erased between all divisions; race, sex, age,.. You don't have to go crazy caring for the people you love and adore. You are armoured. You are willing to risk your life for the cause you believe in, and you would do anything to destroy an ancient curse, or some stupid ring, or complete some stupid quest, to attain... something something. You are a character of your own values. There is no right or wrong, good or evil... There are no alliances labelled 'a mistake'. Events are not always deemed 'fated'. You have a haversack. You collect arms and stuff. You have maps. You lead your way. You are armed. You are a Survivor.

It's a World where...
Destiny is in your Own Hands.

It's a World that'll never will.