This time no single bird
can not sing the dawn song. A mental gun shooter said in a primary school. This time no flower can be thrown to dustbin in this globalisation era. A mental gun shooter said in a high school. This time no excuse will be acceptable for last time to support the word 'sorry'. A mad gun shooter in govt run paying guest.
Nice to meet you.
- No, nice to meet you. - Who invited you? - The Crow. - And you? - My boss. - Hmmm... - Why? - I was just wondering if, by any chance, you knew how to hunt rabbits. - No, but I know how to follow orders and shut up. - Well, good for you! I'll rather be black and fear the light, then blue and having nothing to do. - What? - I was just talking about colors. What is your favorite color? - Grey. - I thought so... - Why? - Because you're wearing pants. - !? You are not making any sense! - I know. Goodnight said the bird of pray before disappearing behind the shiny yellow curtain.
Under the curse
There is a loss of humour : Childlike excitement is friction in memory and become a tinnitus of love upon your compressed exhaustion It takes a persistence the insistence of the stubborn a guesting to transverse the yawn within to make you a new spell This could bring about your day-to-day skills and willingness Regain the hum Observe the silliness and the tune of your make Recognise the scope and think a smile.
Written after reading 'When the world lost a smile' by Poetic T.
It does not matter what build these walls.
And it does not matter how to break them. Do not offer help. Ask me what would I give to see a silver lining? The doors are closed from the inside. And I have forgotten how to unlock them. Oh, dear guest, to see you standing out there is so gratifying. These doors won’t open. Outcomes of visiting a bad host! ©dogslinwriter
Xenia stands for
Guest and stranger, why did we Separate kindness
Suiside upon instruction
Through institution By relation to another And being bared upon By your own misfiring soul A shaky exit ; Lonely Or lonely, with company Approach The Pig Empty With a mind and not a rattle ; a pressure of Taughts in loving nothing glove oblivion a pardon from suffering ? a finite mime Signed - a guest
there is someone who want to come in but the fact is i don't want it because the guest is not you
i still want you. but you don't
my muse is my sorrow,
but if it did not exist i would not find beauty in the rain and solace in pain. it finds different ways to manifest, but it is safe to say it is no longer an unwelcome guest.
you’re the guest
that knocked on my door and i willingly let you in. you trashed the place, we had fun — most guests do anyways — and after the party we usually clean up. but you, you left my house trashed. you left marks all over the place. i was so used to people helping me clean up afterwards that i forgot there were people like you: who crashes a house and leaves without any remorse. did it ever cross your mind that at the end of the day, at the end of what we had, i’ll be the only one cleaning this?
Blur, a blur
it came in like a blur I was drunk and I was blurred Touch, a touch me and her lips would touch like a kicking I was touched I feel my palms and they're all cut I see my face and it's all cut and so were the cornea of my eyes a birthday party, a big surprise A lucky guest, am I? Sirens and the ambulance gravel and my legs would stand angry noises, angry colors loving sisters, angry brothers . . . . . Funny thing, still have her number
Real story, got attacked by a gang because I was with one of their girls