My First Day at Hogwarts
On a Saturday morning,
I woke up in pain.
Perched on top of my head,
Was an owl shaking its mane.

As I focused my glance,
the owl got clearer.
There was something clutched in its beak;
a pale yellow letter.

When I opened it,
words started to bloom,
Mr Y. Vartak,
The inner bedroom.


‘You have a place
in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Points will be taken for wrong,
and awarded for bravery.’

I showed it to my parents,
Who were not at all surprised.
They were in fact very happy,
I am a wizard I realized!

We took a plane to London,
Visit Diagon Alley.
In a hurry to buy my first wand,
robes and stationery.

It was the first of September,
so we hurried to Kings Cross.
We got to platform nine and three quarters,
after struggling through the chaos.

I had everything in my trunk,
I had nothing more to get.
My parents surprised me,
by giving me an owl as a pet.

I got a seat in the Hogwarts Express,
and put my robes,
There was a boy opposite me,
he was juggling bewitched globes.

We got off the train,
At Hogsmeade Station.
There was an amazing castle,
that was beyond my imagination.

We rowed across the lake,
sitting on boats,
It was getting colder,
so we pulled on our coats

We entered the hall,
Full of eyes.
There was a roof above us,
that represented the vast skies.

There was a dusty hat,
in the middle of a stage,
It had a rip near the brim,
so it looked older than its age.

A professor named Minerva,
Put that hat on my head.
The rip opened like a mouth,
Interesting is what it said.

The Sorting Hat as it was called,
said that he had to think some more,
After a while it yelled:
‘He’ll go in GRYFFINDOR!’

I joined the Gryffindor,
at the Start-Of-Term Feast.
We were so involved I talking,
we cared for our sleep the least.

After the feast, we departed,
for Gryffindor Common Room,
Outside the portrait hole, there was,
a shiny black broom.

I changed from my robes to my nightdress,
lay down watching the dying ember.
My eyelids were getting heavy,
I walked into a deep slumber.

This poem is written by me,
Yash Singh.
Specially written for my favourite,
Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

No kidding.
Someone,
under cover of night
or another invisibility cloak
or thanks to those goblins in Gringotts,
sneaked into Bellatrix’s bank vault
and stole the sword of Gryffindor.

What do you do with
a sword of that caliber?
Do you use it to help
the house elves in the kitchen?
Slicing bread, chopping vegetables, and cutting meat while they stare at you in awe?

Or set it on the shelf in the headmaster’s office
the same shelf above the beautiful fire Phoenix
you watched explode.
Place it next to the snapshot of Dumbledore,
smiling and winking at you
and make tiresome jokes about how it belonged to
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Or do you tuck it in the bottom of the sorting hat that placed you into Gryffindor in the first place,
wrapped in the scarf Fawkes brought you from
Dumbledore’s office?
Do you take it out when you need to defeat the basilisk or stab some horcruxes and you don’t have a venomous fang to use instead?

And do you think there in your common room,
with the dementors circling around the school, and
He Who Shall Not Be Named back again, that you could wield the sword and think you’re the
Chosen One?

Ravenclaw:
The intelligent ones
For those who may be missing a few screws
Or are like no one else you have ever met

Hufflepuff:
The amicable ones
For those who aren't afraid to work hard
Or would give $100 to the homeless

Slytherin:
The cunning ones
For those who will do anything to achieve their goals
Or are willing to do anything to protect what is theirs

Gryffindor:
The brave ones
For those who will never give up
Or laugh in the face of terror

Where shall you go?

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Marshmallow factories
Are covered in goo

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Not all of these
Are going to rhyme

Roses are red
Violets are purple
Whoever wrote that
Was an idiot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My favorite is Discord
Who used to be Q

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you count in binary
You'll never have 2

Roses are red
Violets are blue
MEEP

Roses are red
Violets are blue, da ba dee da ba daa...

Roses are black
Violets are black
Everything is black
I'm Batman

Roses are blue
Violets are red
Something is wrong
With my head

The Math section is red
Social Studies is blue
I have too much homework
I want to cry

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Please don't get stuck
In the spilled glue

Roses are purple
Violets are green
I'm just here revving
My limousine

Roses are red
They have thorns
Don't touch them

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to turn this
Into a haiku

Roses are crimson
Violets are the fairest blue
And so fair are you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
That was pretty good
For being written on the fly

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Ridiculous Inflatable
Swan Thing

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I need to sleep
No

you are so And
sweet is Sugar
blue are Violets
red are Roses

Roses are red
Violets are blue
There is no try
Do not or do

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dab on those haters

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Think I'll paint them
On my shoe

Roses are red, dilly dilly
Violets are blue
Is this copyrighted, dilly dilly
I have no clue

Lavender's blue
Lavender's green
I store my sanity
In a canteen

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm too cynical
And yet too cheesy

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Spellcheck doesn't know meep?!?

Roses are rosy
Violets are violet
I want to be
A submarine pilot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Something something
Pikachu

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Illuminati
They're watching you

Gryffindor's red
Ravenclaw's blue
WHY IS IT AN EAGLE
NOT A RAVEN

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Be mine
I'm desperate

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't want romance
Stop asking

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm running low on ideas
We're almost through

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Don't eat too much

Roses are red
Never mind
Life's too short
Eat all the sugar you can find

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're still here?
Good job you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Happy Valentines Day
Bye

Oh you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)
For I’m a Thinking Cap!

"Wingardium Leviosa!" that's your spell.
But it didn't work, I didn't float
I fell.
"Alohamora!" you said to my heart
and again "Accio!" to find its broken parts.
We can love each other forever and always
like Snape to Lily.
Be hysterical and weird
like Bellatrix crazy.
Let's run away and be free;
free as an elf like Dobby.
A sock makes him happy, little things count.
It's precious just like this love I found.
You know, you're not that different from Harry.
Without the scar, you're the boy who lived for me.
It's like the world vanishes when we're this close,
time feels both slow and fast,
our words echoes.
You're as keen as the Ravenclaw
seeing beauty hidden in every flaw.
Loveable like the mark of the badger,
got that trait of Slytherin clever.
I found what I was searching for.
You, my strong-heart lion of Gryffindor.

Dear Ronald Bilius Weasley
No matter what others say
I will always be your fan
You are such a marvellous character
Not perhaps, a perfect one
But a character with flaws
So real, and so beautiful
That we can totally relate to it

In your first year at Hogwarts
You played a game of chess
In such a magnificent manner
That even the Russians of the Muggle world
Could not have done any better

In your second year at Hogwarts
You faced your greatest fears
With a courage and nerve
That Godric Gryffindor would have been proud of
For the sake of your best mates

In your third year at Hogwarts
You almost ruined a friendship
For the sake of a rat and a broomstick
But you made amends for it
By standing up to a notorious murderer
That too with a broken leg
Again, for the sake of your best mate

In your fourth year at Hogwarts
Again, there was a misunderstanding
That threatened to derail a strong friendship
But you were there for Harry
When it truly mattered
There was also some ugly ****** jealousy
As your teenage hormones took centrestage
But at least you got an inkling
That you and Hermione
Were made for each other

In your fifth year at Hogwarts
There was a lot you had to put up with
The constant bullying of the Slytherins
Especially during Quidditch matches
The temper tantrums of your best friend
And finally, the evil Dolores Jane Umbridge
Initially, due to your nerves and insecurities
Your Quidditch performances went from bad to worse
But then, you finally showed us
The stuff you were made of
Saving goals left, right and centre
And to cap it all
You bravely fought a dozen Death Eaters
Yet again, for the sake of your best friend

Finally, we come to the war
Due to your never-ending insecurities
And anxiety for your family
Worsened by a dreadful locket
That contained a part of Voldemort's soul
You briefly deserted your best mates
But returned when it mattered the most
Even saving Harry's life in the process
And then, as you destroyed that darned locket
You finally conquered your fears
And transitioned successfully to manhood
Finally, during the Battle of Hogwarts
You showed us your sensitive side
A side that we had never seen before
As you displayed your concern for the house-elves
Precipitating your first kiss with Hermione
Later on, you lost your dear brother
But continued to soldier on bravely
Even standing up to Voldemort himself
Hence, dear Ronald Bilius Weasley
No matter what others say
I will always be your fan

We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss,
Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even
The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles.

We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple;
Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused.
Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration.

We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures;
“Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!”
We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher.

We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and,
Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters,
As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry.

We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting
The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing
The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia.

We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity,
We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance,
Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun.

Every still is captured by a Lomo,
Every scene arrested in sepia motion,
Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.

A loud knock,
was what I heard.
At this hour of the night,
who might that be,
I wordered.
Begrudgingly,
I opened the door,
only to meet a giant,
and all so hairy man,
(not in a **** way though).

Hey young lady,
I'm Rubeus Hagrid,
here to pick you up.
You are not a muggle,
you do not belong here.
There is a school for you,
Hogwarts is its name,
school of witchcraft,
and wizardry,
(not a regular school per say).

We better hurry up child,
or the train will leave us.
It awaits at Platform 9¾,
and if we are not on time,
Dumbledore will have my head.
If we are late,
you will miss the sorting hat,
which makes me wonder,
are you a Slytherin,
or a  Gryffindor.

Anyway hurry up,
so go on and pack.
I would give you my wand,
but you do not know how to use it.
Do not look confused my child,
instead be happy.
being a muggle is no fun,
you will realise soon.
So hurry up lets go,
( I already hear snape grumbling).
     $angila$

I’d hazard a guess there aren’t many folk who don’t know the tales of Harry, Hermione and Ron
and how with a cast of a multitude of friends they defeated Voldemort with aplomb,
rightly these heroic adventures are held in the highest regard,
and will be told forever by musicians, singers and bards,
these stories will be remembered, people will talk of those courageous and brave
and how they turned the evil tide of The Dark Lord with everything they gave,
how they dispelled the magic of horror with the strength of the Gryffindor lion,
but less well known than this wonder is the fable of Tayrn and her Ryan.
R and T arrived to Hogwarts  10  years after He Who Can Not Be Named was vanquished in the great struggle,
Tayrn was pure wizard born whereas Ryan was pure muggle,
both took to wizarding school easily and did well in all their classes,
of course Tayrn was a hit with the lads and Ryan a swoon with the lasses,
but it didn’t matter they gave all folk in their year at Hogwarts an involuntary love shudder
because ace Tayrn and Ryan only had eyes for each other!
Their wonderful sweet love was easy and went without a hitch,
spent Saturdays gazing at each other when they should have been watching Quidditch,
hand in hand they skipped around The Forbidden Forest, their romance knowing no rift,
saying hello to a friendly centur or a flying hippogriff,
they galloped around Diagon Alley, their souls full of cheer,
or sat relaxed and tranquil in The Leaky Cauldron sipping butter beer.
T and R were ace at spells, Tayrn’s best was with a wand swish creating healing
and Ryan’s wonderful arty prowess was painting The Sistine Chapel on any ceiling;
yes they were each other’s equal in the way they weaved the magic from above
and this is one of the reasons they were very much in love.
One night T and R were going on one of their romantic walks
and decided to have a jaunt to a wonderful clearing just near Hogwarts,
they sauntered through the darkening evening with a song on their lips,
swaggered along the green with the music of love on their hips,
as they got to the secluded clearing they were anticipating with glee each other’s hold
but then all of a sudden they started feeling very cold.
They both noticed that the summer grass was covered in a blanket of frost,
the trees were looking pale, freezing, withdrawn and lost,
the air was filled with frigidity and held the hints of scare,
the flowers were wilting with chilled terror, bloom given way to despair,
as Tayrn and Ryan wondered what was the cause of such floral bad health
just a few yards away  the answer revealed itself;
over a hill came a hooded figure that immediately brought fright to the fore
as Tayrn and Ryan paid attention in Defence Against The Dark Arts they instantly recognised it as a dementor,
but they noticed something different about this one, it was nearly trebled in size,
and had a deeper blackness where should have been it’s eyes.
Being skilled at magic they knew what they had to do to avoid any harm
so both quickly fired off their best Patronus Charm,
but these spells had no effect, the huge dementor merely shrugged them off
and they could have sworn beneath it’s hood it let out a derisive scoff.
The enormous dementor hovered over Tayrn and Ryan and from its mouth emerged a hiss,
as it prepared to give the two lovers their final goodbye kiss,
but as it stooped over them with it’s awful deathly hue
T and R looked into each other’s eyes and figured out what they were going to do;
they remembered in one class learning about the bravest man Hogwarts had ever knew
and how he was able to hoodwink The Dark Lord with a love strong, solid and true,
how Snape drew on his love of Lilly to ride through any storm,
even on his darkest night it was what kept him warm,
so Tayrn and Ryan pushed their wands together and thought of beautiful Severus
and how they both too shared the romantic love buzz,
and channelling the wonder of that special feeling thus
they both pointed their wands in unison and screamed Expelliarmus!
Emitted from the tip of each wand was the half of a love heart projected from each soul
that both came together to create the fantastic whole,
in the shine of such love the vast dementor instantly recoiled,
knowing that it’s draining wish was in no doubt foiled,
it writhed around and in the glare of joy did it’s nefarious purpose erode,
every bleak and blank about it started to corrode,
the dementor slowly ebbed away until all of it did go
and in it’s place was left a striking brown young doe,
it bowed it’s head to Tayrn and Ryan and then it flew into the trees,
gliding with majesty on the sweet night breeze.
Awed by what had happened Ryan and Tayrn turned and started to walk back to the dorm,
aware of what occurred was special and not the norm,
but then they stopped in their tracks and at the same time both did say,
“oh my beautiful love, I know  I’m going to marry you someday!”

You are seen as weird
People often call you "Loony"
But they couldn't be more wrong
Yes, you are indeed different
But then, every individual is unique
And I like you as you are
With all your pros and cons
Yes, you may believe in things
Which do not really exist
But then, who doesn't?
What truly matters
Is the fact that you are a beautiful human being
With a heart of gold
Who doesn't judge anyone
Sees people as they are
Doesn't shy away from speaking uncomfortable truths
Is modest to a fault
And last but not the least
Values friendship above everything else
You know, I can relate to you
I am also different
And got bullied for that
Just as you did
However, your mental strength is remarkable
After losing your mother at a very young age
That too due to a freak accident
You have shown the courage and fortitude
Not to mention, resilience and tenacity
To carry on with your life
Do your best to excel at magic
Display the natural curiosity and aptitude for learning
Which is expected of every Ravenclaw
Develop and sustain friendships
And finally, put your life on the line
In order to try and make the world a better place for all
You are not only a true Ravenclaw
But also possess the courage, nerve and daring of a Gryffindor
And the loyalty and sense of justice of a Hufflepuff
You only lack the cunning and ambition of a Slytherin
Not to mention, you were kidnapped and held hostage by Death Eaters
That too for a few months
And somehow emerged almost unscathed
After such a traumatic experience
You really are an incredible witch
Please remain the way you are
No matter what people say
And I will be a fan of yours
Until, as Neville would say, "Hell freezes over"

Hats and Hooves and Humming Birds,
Moulded cheese and strawberry Nerds,
Oh, Good Gracious Paper,
You are this poems maker,

The Lion kills, Gryffindor's dead,
the snake bites him, Slytherin lies on the bed,
The Raven caws, Ravenclaw is upset
The badger has a cold, 'Hufflepuff takes him to the vet."

"I am the Lord of the Rings", Says Mr.Frodo
Then Sauron comes out from Mordor
Gollum Screams, "Smeagol the Lord."
Boromir kills Saruman, using a sword

All ends bad, as is bad
Denethor in his house goes mad,
he burns himself and leaves Gondor sad,
Bilbo beats the old took, all because of that footpad

There is havoc, everywhere
Voldemort challenges Sauron to a dare,
Voldemort has the Elder wand,
Sauron wields the ring and jumps into a pond

They duel right there, wand and ring,
Sauron things Voldemort's a dumb thing,
Sauron wins and Voldemort flees
then Sauron boasts about his good deeds

harry's happy but Frodo's sad
and Bilbo is weeping over his lad,
Sams works for Sauron's evil garden,
and pippin lives in a barn with a hen

thank you, oh paper,
This funny poems maker,
unfortunately, I didn't write this poem on you,
I wrote it on a computer screen, nanana poopoo

What's life without a role model?
A Slytherin without ambition
A Hufflepuff without loyalty
A Ravenclaw without curiosity
And finally
A Gryffindor without courage

All of us have role models
Well, maybe not those poor souls
Who aim to achieve as much in their lives
As have done Bermuda
When it comest to cricket

Well, I know I will be asked
Who is my role model?
It is the one and only Harris Jayaraj
A musician who produces magic
Which sweeps you off your feet
And transports you into a whole new universe
Where all your dreams come true
And every unhappy memory of yours vanishes
With just a lazy flick of his wand
A wand that can be bested not
Even by the legendary Elder Wand

Dear Harris Sir,
You are my inspiration
The key that unlockest the door
Beyond which, lies my true potential

The sheer variety of music
Which lies in your repertoire
Doth make proud
Even a Hans Zimmer or a John Williams
Therefore, it cometh not as a surprise
That one of them is your idol

Everyone heaps a ton of praises
On your captivating melodies
Which, of course, is thoroughly well deserved
However, it is your background music
Which, according to me, is the gamechanger
Because it doth transform even the most boring movies
Into a spectacle of entertainment
Recall the famous India vs Australia Test match
At Eden Gardens, Kolkata, circa 2001
From a certain innings defeat
To a glorious victory
Was a transformation par excellence
Thanks to the sheer magic produced by three people
For whom the word "impossible"
Doth not exist in the dictionary
Thou hadst achieved the same
With a snooze fest of a movie, known as "Vaaranam Aayiram"
Thy BGMs playing the role of the Pied Piper of Hamelin
A movie that deserved to be a flop
Ended up becoming a hit
Thanks to Harris, the one man army

Dear Harris Sir,
You are my inspiration
Not because you have achieved many a success
But because you give up not
In the event of a failure
And even that has happened not
For want of trying

Dear Harris Sir,
You are my inspiration
Even if your fame has reached the mighty skies
The word "pride" doth not exist in your dictionary
Your greatness truly lies
In your sheer simplicity
Not to mention, your acute awareness
Of yours strengths and weaknesses

Dear Harris Sir,
You are an inspiration
Not only to me
But also to millions of aspiring artists
Because there is so much to learn from you
And it is not all about music
Your hard work and dedication
As well as your willingness to learn
And keep on learning
No matter how far you have progressed in life
Sets an example for all of us
I would like to end on this note
Once a Harris fan, always a Harris fan!

I am now a murderer.
There I sit, in my big, blood stained tank top and a pair of gym shorts, red dots cover the expanse of them.
There sits Leo Wilde, his huge mane is dotted and sprayed with red, his huge maw is covered and nearly dripping with blood, his well kept suit is also covered in blood, his white shirt stained pinkish, and his Gryffindor tie with its amazing windsor knot, too, has specks of red on it, his shoeless paws are matted with redness.
There lies Ash Lee, a previously unformed, vague shape of a humanoid, his mouth was unformed, his thoughts were primordial, and we wondered what he would become. I now know. He was destined to become a corpse of my mind, for I killed him when I realized that I should just stick with Leo.
There we are, Ash’s body lying nearly comically spread eagle on the floor, his blood pooling all around him, me and Leo staring at it, terrifyingly awestruck at we have done. It wasn't intended, meant to never happen, because Ash Lee, as it were, was never supposed to be born, he was supposed to just remain in my notes as a possibility to never be sought out. I forced him into creation, and then I forced him into
I can't say it.
Ash Lee will no longer rise promptly at 6:15 AM.
10/5/16
:;,

Your expressions can ****
Before one can even utter the words "Avada Kedavra" !!
Your eyes sparkle with an intensity
That can melt even boulders
Your smile is filled with a dazzling light
Which is so bright
That it can even turn Hell into Heaven
As we are often told
"Laughter is the best medicine"
Well, your laugh is so divine
That it can even bring people back from the dead
Your sense of fashion is an art in itself
And can even put London and Paris in the shade
Most of all, you gave up a career in medicine
In order to pursue your dreams
With a courage that would have made Godric Gryffindor proud
I can't wait to watch you on the big screen
Because there is absolutely no one
Who can do justice to the character of Poonguzhali
With such a silken grace
As I am sure you will

title: prune
body:
      /ick/
\itch\
|snooze|
szshszsh    a 502 bad gateway bypass

HIM:

Why are we quantum entangled? I'll just walk away

12 hours ago Quantum physics mean nothing. Take your plank hole shove it up your plank hole ***. non locality? get non locally ****** every instant. I drank the essence of a black hole.

12 hours ago Wait, I want to know what you see so I won't walk away.

12 hours ago I live in the US, in Colorado. It ******* ***** here. King George is an *******.

11 hours ago My issue I'm having, there's too much to the story inside my mind. There's not enough words or time to tell

11 hours ago It all starts with Unholy Trinity. Cast of characters in “clinical” terms, Borderline Mommy Room 11 who lives completely fragmented and disassociated from her own feelings and emotions and Narcissist Room 7. I’m cast in a role in a control fantasy  between these two psychotic child blood drinking creatures. I have to be the adult. I have to deal with their feelings and emotions. I don’t get to have  happy childhood feelings and emotions.

Now I’m in my 30s. I’m confused about Borderline Mommy Room 11 because “Real” Mommy failed miserably. I don’t understand being born because of this “failure”. I found a new Surrogate Mommy who lives above my head Room 11. She’s “clinically” “borderline”. I think she has a control fantasy. She’s using  me in her control fantasy, really easy and convenient for her. She had been watching me for months before I realized she even lived above my head, apartment above. When she was always making noises, before I even knew who she is, it would give me PTSD symptoms and I’d think my dad’s getting up and he’s coming back to ****** me again.

Now I’m more aware of the situation. I had a control fantasy too but I’m working on breaking down it down, return to source. I know now I just have really really ****** up Mommy issues and I’m using Surrogate Borderline Mommy Room 11 as a mirror, projector to try to understand what the **** happened in my childhood. I have no idea what is going on in her brain, she refuses to communicate with me.

The first time I saw her, I saw her in the rear view mirror of  my car. I did not know how long she had eyes on me. Way longer then I knew about her. Basically she had preyed on me, calculated a whole bunch of stuff about my psychology because she had been spying on me. She approaches me one day under the pretense of a light for a cigarette. We talk. She tells me about her self. Like’s to paint. Has paint all over her hands and arms. I had been avoiding looking at her because the beauty, is just what I want. I want her beauty and I’m scared of wanting that. So simple. She made a move though then I saw her up close, too late. Feelings are there now, no going. She smokes cigarettes, I don’t. I smoke cannabis, ask her if she wants to smoke in my apartment. Show her my computers stuff, tell her about my divorce, pretty much just make a fool of myself. What ended up happening is me inviting her to the apartment was a ******* really really bad idea. I show her more, my paintings and stuff. Tell her I served time in the psychiatric facility. She served time in the same one. They say bipolar mania for me, borderline for her. Nothing happened between us, she decides she wants to leave. I tell her it was nice speaking with you, she says the same. She says she’s happy she came up to me. I tell her I’m happy too Got her number, she says she wants me to text. I tell her I would like to see her paintings before she leaves.

I’m trapped in the spider’s control fantasy at this point and I’m completely oblivious. In her control fantasy, She’s just using me to  recreate conditions in her childhood so she can master them. Nothing personal.

She asked me to text her, I did, basically just repeated myself, would like to see your paintings, let me know what you would like to do. She “ghosted” me. She lives above me and “ghosts” me on the cell phone. I never send her another text or call her. Takes me a month to figure out that she has *** with Narcissist Room 7, who has way too many guns and always has the cops showing up to his room for some reason. He confessed to it, and basically the way he told is is he lured her somewhere and ***** her, used her for purposes of ****** gratification and that was that. I think she saw me talking to him, this is what borderlines are known to do. They triangulate. This man who I was speaking with reminds me a lot of my ex husband, who I recently divorced. He was a very evil man into the Voodoo religion, a super control freak who had me under a Voodoo spell.

Psychologically, Narcissist Room 7 has now become cast in the role of my father, or ex husband Voodoo, who is a very dangerous and abusive man. Now I’m in the middle of this really ****** up situation again, like a repeat in my childhood, between my parents and their inevitable divorce, trying to stave off the impossible. Narcissist Room 7 is obsessed with me. He was working on me, trying to get me to do what he wanted. I was just humoring his manipulating attempts. Honestly, I may have even had a plan. I have plans and keep the plans from myself. But the plan got jammed up by Borderline Room 11. I’m ******* ****** with him now and it completely ruined his plans to manipulate me. He came by later, trying to manipulate me to get over it, bros before hos, blah blah blah. I’m not following that script, I will not be manipulated. I’m angry with that man, for good reason and we will not be ever becoming friends and this just eats him away. He is obsessed with my attention for some reason, so is she. She always puts on a display to make sure to parade her kid around in front of me in some bizarre power play. That’s how she communicates with me. She’s holding me hostage in her control fantasy and I have decided now that I’m just not going to play along anymore. This is a ticking time bomb situation, we’re all ticking time bomb people with very bizarre psychologies. Not sure what’s gonna happen here.

So the root error and cause of this ****** up situation is my mommy issues. So what do I do? I call my mother. Tell her to come visit. My plan is to give my mother all the attention. When she gets here, I’m going to ask the Narcissist Room 7 if he wants to have *** with her while I watch. I’ll tell him he can invite surrogate Surrogate Borderline Mommy Room 11. We can even record it and have the memory live forever. I’m going to keep talking to my mother, give all the attention to my mother and drive these ******* stupid *** people crazy. They want my attention, I need to give my real Mom my attention. She’s in a lot of pain and really hurting. I care about her even though she abused the **** out of me. She’s finally learning how to help me out a little, for real this time!

11 hours ago Oh i forgot to mention, last real communication I got from Borderline Room 11. She has a really bizarre sense of timing because of her fragmentation and disassociation. She went out to take her trash, timed it with when I drove back to the apartment. I was looking at the sky, ignoring her. Timing ended up being she walks behind me as I walk up to the do or to unlock. She walks up to me exactly the same way narcissist room 7 ***** her. Asks me how I'm doing? I'm just like, inside, is she ******* kidding me right now? ***? I just reply: "Ill be all right". I havn't made eye contact, this isn't real communication. She's ******* with me and she knows it. She's still behind me, the split occurs and eye contact occur. She says thank you. I tell her, you are welcome and I smile. Now I'm in a fight with Narc Room 7 down the hall I guess, with a little child in the mix.

I now find myself most concerned about the child in this situation.
I am very frightened.
The danger is real.
Violence seems inevitable, can’t see the future.
Caught in the web
No way out

Last communication I got from Narc Room 7 is he told me my room smelled like **** because of the insence I was burning. He told me this from down the hall. I tell him, come up to me and say that **** to my ******* face, say that again because I did not hear you. He said it. He replied: Are you saying I’m ****? He got real mad about being asked this question, so I asked him more. Why the **** do you come up to me and talk to me? What the **** is it about my attention that you need so bad? He just says all I do is cry, makes crying noises. Im just like ***, you literally turn into my father. I ask him if he’s real? He closes the crack of his door and returns to his apartment.

10 hours ago I forgot to mention, I held the door open for her. Total sucker, total fool

10 hours ago Let the self trashing continue. I already know what's coming. I'm indifferent. Okay with anything. Ready for the suffering

10 hours ago This is my last message before it scrolls off the screen. The identity confusion that results from being in the middle of Borderline Women and Narcissistic men is very very very very confusion. I am so confused. I think I'm going to be okay. Writing helps. Getting the story out of my head helps. Will continue the work as long as I can


ME:

how can i unpack, justly, fairly, what you have left me? i don't think i can... oh: i will have you know that i read all of it, it was a curious read in some parts, but, in other parts? very relatable...  i'm going to try to refocus your attention on something that's been been bugging me before i try to consolidate your troubles, not that i'm going to offer any advice, proper... o.k. o.k.... the song... Your Woman by White Town... was sampled by Dua Lipa - Love Again... which one do you prefer? Me? i recently tried to get together with this woman... i'm 35... she's 39... oh my god... i really fancied her... i was round her house three times... outside of work... brought her homemade wine, forgot my "Gordic Gryffindor Sorting Hat" i left at her house... pom-pom and all... a hat i found at a bus-stop... mind you: i hate Harry Potter...she too has a kid... a lovely 11 year old chap... i told him he should be learning German rather than French because the grammar: the way words are aligned are akin to English... her dog liked me... i had wounds on my knuckles from putting out cigarette buts on them... because? i enjoy pain... being a sadomasochist... i like to inflict pain i might on others on myself first... that's the real test of the threshold... first: me... and if someone gets in the way... at least i could possibly say: 'don't be a *****, i can stomach this... if i can: so you can too...' i even cycled the night prior to Valentine's day and left a card and a bouquet of flowers on her porch... what did she do? ghosted me on WhatsApp... then again... all the talked about was her exes... her abusive exes... one boxed her (beat her)... drank excessively... i drink excessively myself, mind you: but i'm the sort of drunk that tends to wrestle with his shadow and beats himself up... the kid doesn't know his father... she dated this dog-lover type of guy during lockdown... but once lockdown ended... the dog-lover type ended falling back into his old ways... sniffing ******* etc.,  for THREE ******* DAYS i had stomach cramps... i was thinking: ooh! i'm in love! i'm in love! i'm in love! i thought i was... "thought"... this is the same person that... on our first shift together tried to spread a rumour that i was stinking of alcohol / drinking on the job... 2 ******* WEEKS OF DRAMA... between my coworker females... you know... in that sort of scenario... watching a horror movie like Hellraiser is more akin to admiring Buonarroti's Pietà... horror has its moments...it's no longer horrific... it's somewhat beautiful, when people behave in such a petty way... but i told the other girls... listen... don't tell her that i know, i even used the proverb phrase from my native land: liies have short legs... i.e.: liars don't walk on stilts... you need to be a Machiavelli to lie... you need cunning... you can't just expect to be a good liar by watching English soap opera dramas... to be a good liar? you first need to master telling the truth, i.e. to be unashamed of it... like... i tell you i still live with my parents... in the Anglo-Saxon sphere i should be ashamed of this fact, like i'm some would-be Ed Gein ******... but then i tell you... but i'm the custodian of the property itself, i will own it when they're dead... i do all the housework, the DIY and the cooking... my parents are not going to be found in an old people's home... but you know... in order to lie... you need to remember the lies you spin...  you need to be consistent, otherwise there will come a time when glitches... irregularities appear... all liars are bad because they haven't spent enough time in speaking the truth: CONSISTENTLY.... the reason why i'm framing my reply like so... from a shared experience is because: i don't know how to approach your individual case... the similarity is that this "girl of mine" is also damaged goods... she has an 11 year old kid... she has several suitors... she's also very attractive... and i'm as dumb as you in willing to commit to a doomed relationship... rumour has had some sway on me... the other girls told me that her ex didn't actually beat her, but she... beside ploughing him with fists threw knives at him... and... ha ha... she was in her 30s while he was 19.... they met through her son... when this guy was picking up his younger brother from school... why did she ghost me? she can't control me...  in the most recent episode of Billions... don't know if you're familiar... Wendy tries to bribe this Buddhist monk with a tub of vegan, homemade ice-cream... it's different when a man brings a woman his homemade banana loaf and wine... i was peacocking... **** me... if she's not impressed then and there... basically because of that... and from what her past experiences of men should have taught her... then... she ghosting me... i don't think she has anything to learn... Colorado, eh? i'm not English... i have no allegiance to the history of England regarding your country... i'll go as far back as Edward the Confessor, Henry II... but i'm not English... i hope there might be zero animosity between us on this front... i don't care what your take on Englishness is... i just live here... my favourite barber is a Turk, i buy my spices from an Indian merchant... i'm going back to Poland on the 5th to reassurance my grandmother that... Putin will not cross the border... blah blah... man... now that i think about it... you know what i did when this girl ghosted me... on a ******* shift a taste of: voyeurism... she was swiping left, left left left on TINDER... i never used a dating app... but there she is... swiping left left left... it's bad enough that i have a facebook profile... that's ******* embarrassing... but i did set it up when there were restrictions regarding to who could sign up... university students... i have no twitter... why? i write too much... 140 charaters is not going to cut it for me... plus... with this girl... we didn't talk about books, we didn't really talk about movies... well... i mentioned Sunset Boulevard & Bell, Book & Candle... the 1958 movie... my love for vinyl records... our 4th date was supposed to imply i bring a vinyl record and some more of my homemade wine... obviously that didn't happen... mate... it's ****... and from what i read... you're knee deep in some... horror show... i dare say... if H. H. Holmes wanted to build a labyrinth slaughterhouse... he'd base it on your narrative-analysis! i'm not joking! but you know what i did after this rejection? the girl obviously loves her soap opera... her femme-boxers... she just likes to be abused... some people can't help it... it's like that Eurythmics's song: sweet dreams are made of these... who am i to disagree... i travelled the world and the 7 seas... everybody's looking for something: some of them want to use you,
                            some of them want to get used by you,
                              some of them want to abuse you,
                     some of them want to be abused (by you)...
the next big fix on offer? going to a brothel and seeing a *******.. i'm not going to handle rejection like that, not in my 30s, that's simply not going to happen, i was always going to have an auxiliary fall-back to land on, that comes all the more easier with prostitutes, at least they're blatant, obvious, 3-dimensional... at least if you upkeep personal hygiene one might tell you: live dangerously... have *** without a ******... hell... i'm expecting her to bring some marijuana to our next session since... two sessions prior i mentioned that i haven't tried *******... she brought ******* to our last session... tried it... did **** all for me... i prefer coffee... it's like sniffing... a dog-****... with chemical rainbow aftertaste... i was more into her naked body... mate... get out... even if you have to grow a pair of horns or a cranium  thickness of a ram's head... get out... but it's how you opened up... kudos to you... you are most certainly primed for the Beatnilk cut-up technique, oh man, i was a big fan of the Beatniks in my younger years... all that ****-****** literature surrounding William Burroughs... the confused state of "affairs"... i gobbled his books down... Naked Lunch is still one of my all-time favourites... you're on your way, in terms of writing... i will spare you correcting some discrepancies in your messages... although... the grammar-**** in me is tirggered beyond belief...i'm seriously itching at what corrections i see that need to be corrected... but this time... i won't...  i see too miuch of you in me and i hope: not enough of me in you... but at least we can share the similitude of our fates.... to compare... we're not that much mis-aligned... trouble being... i went to the outlet of a *******... to counter her having control...even my neighbour today, who i went going to the shop commented about my **** beard... you need to find other people to please, there are always other people... don't congest yourself with the claustrophobia of this one woman... like my one... oh... she's fit... she's just my type... half Celtic... hair like a sunset...ginger: but not ginger...but she originally wanted to get be sacked for "apparently" drinking alcohol on the job... you can't help them... if she's into being beaten, if she's into soap opera antics... free will is a *****... however much good you want for someone: if they are still adamantly reserved in being receptive to advice... so be it! let go... just let, go... your interest in computers is like my interest in making my own wine... let it go... see a more available third party... you know how much i wish it could be true? but... i just don't feel like being the *******...i don't want to **** myself spiritually in order to win over her heart... sad... i know... i'd like to love her... but if she's only willing to be loved by men that abuse her... Pontius Pilate... i wash my hands clean, of the whole affair... FIAT!

i did sort of warn him... he didn't believe me...
i guess that's perfect:
learning the hard way, from experience.

This poem will celebrate Ronald Bilius Weasley
Harry Potter's best friend and fiercest ally
Smart, funny and mischievous
Not to mention, highly courageous
Sacrificed himself in a wizarding chess game
At the age of merely eleven
Have you seen that happen often?
Of course, haters may not give a dime
But he also faced an army of murderous giant spiders
Merely a year later
Not for nothing, was he placed in Gryffindor!

In his third year, Ron stood on a broken leg
And defended his best mate
Against a convicted mass murderer
Yet, he receives a ton of hate
For his supposed jealousy a year after
Which, in reality, was more of a misunderstanding
How does that make him a negative character?
Don't best friends have occasional misunderstandings
That too in their teens?
Even I, at the age of thirty four, am no stranger to misunderstandings
For a fourteen year old Ron, can you imagine how it must have been?

In his fifth year, Ron showed his nerve and daring yet again
Fighting a horde of Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic
A year later, it was time for some Quidditch magic
As he proved the doubting Thomases wrong in style
Saving goal after goal
And now do we come to the most important part
The second wizarding war played its part
In shaping Ron's journey from teenage to adulthood
Yes, abandoning his friends was certainly not good
But he was carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul
Which increased his insecurities and anxieties to the highest possible level
And once he left the tent
The chances of returning soon became one in a million
Thanks to a run-in with a few of Voldemort's hired minions
As well as the protective charms placed around the tent
However, when Ron ultimately returned
He saved Harry's life
And destroyed the aforementioned piece of soul
Which had reduced his confidence levels to almost nil
In the process, Ron faced his worst fears
Managed to overcome them without even shedding tears
And transitioned from boy to man
As if to show us, "Yes you can!!"

Later, bravely did Ron fight in the Battle of Hogwarts
Even after losing his dear brother so tragically
And stand up to Voldemort himself
Thus showing immense strength of character
Yes, he may have his fair share of haters
However, for me that does not matter
Because Ronald Bilius Weasley will always be my favourite Harry Potter character
Truly, like him can there be no other!!