burn. spurn.

imprison me and set me free.

2006-11-19T15:02:08Z

it is such a burden sometimes to be this..

ungrounded.

it feels much too heavy sometimes, to be this free a spirit.
i want to throw myself at your feet, beg you to take me, keep me, imprison me, lay claim to me, consume me, ravage me through, master me, rob me of this restlessness and replace it with calm.

only i know you will not, cannot, be the one to do it.

sing your feelings or your songs will remain unheard.

2006-11-19T10:06:32Z

I have almost forgotten how.

The things I write here are simply pure flights of fantasy I allow words to lend form to. I have entertained thoughts of wrapping my fingers around them and choking back their air supply, for what use are is this raw dream stuff? 'Words, Faranj, are lies.' An even bigger lie, my friend, is fantasy.

These words feed off desperate things. Desperate things like the future, the past and sometimes the present, elusive things like dreams and longing, and wretched things like imagined love, true love found and true love lost. To give them form would be to give these free rein.

I write only when desperate.

selkie.

2006-03-02T18:21:58Z

'Beckon the sea, I'll come to thee...
Shed seven tears, perchance seven years.'

aerial_sprite @ 2006-02-01T17:30:00

2006-02-01T09:32:09Z

i shall give away one smile at a time. only one smile. can you get by with just one smile? because i can. but can you?

but i am also ariel - a flaming firing spirit, crackling like lightning in the sky.

2005-10-02T17:36:13Z

our revels now are ended.
these our actors, as i foretold you, were all spirits,
and are melted into air, into thin air;
and, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
the solemn temples, the great globe itself,
yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve and,
like this insubstantial pageant faded,
leave not a rack behind.
we are such stuff as dreams are made on,
and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

say something before my heart stops.

2005-10-02T17:07:20Z

rage gives way to the defeaning calm which fears nothing. especially rage against self. walk along the darkest alleys and mock Fear himself. imagine you are being followed. silently hope, desperately wish, that someone went after you. but because you hear nothing, and you arent quite sure if its because the chaos inside of you is drowning out all sound or if it truly is soundless in these alleys, you walk faster and further away. after a while, even the rage subsides into nothingness. your mind, which was spilling with images of him only moments before, is now a colourless blank.

you smile, and you know you're doing it again. watching. watching your own hurt. call it self-preservation, if you will. but you dont even have what it takes to experience your own emotions anymore. its as if life has just turned into one big circus act, with hideously painted hyprocritical faces and death-defying balancing acts played up way up on dizzying heights. and you're just watching from the sidelines, waiting for the one real moment to start, the one where you have the lead role, and not just some anoynomous supporting act standing awkwardly in the background. and you wait. because you know no other way than to wait. so wait you shall. even if somewhere inside, cloistered and cosy, you are somehow fully aware that no such moment awaits those who do not even have the will to step past those sidelines, and into the circus ring itself.

risorgimento.

2005-09-18T11:00:32Z

+

i have plans for this baby, maybe.

heil.

+

paper doll.

2004-11-18T16:51:05Z

this one's for a friend i lost.

+

she stares at the world with eyes of glass
looking down at her hands clutching emptiness
she looks past the reflection of still perfection
looking down at porcelain dolls beyond locked doors

she twirls in the rain silent to her heart's refrain
looking up at the stars with their droplets of tears
she falls into the grass staring with eyes of glass
a shooting star race as it dies in the night's embrace

+

aerial_sprite @ 2004-11-17T23:24:00

2004-11-17T15:23:29Z

i love my kin more than even i could ever begin to comprehend.

blood is thicker than water.

2004-11-03T17:40:25Z

+

so you see, my friend. at the end of the day, you still do not even know who i am. and to return this favour, you are no more than a stranger to me too. you will never truly ever be there for me, and try as i might, neither can i ever be there when you need me the most. like all other human traits, love and friendship is flawed and at the end of the day, time will prove itself the victor again. you and i will learn that love never really existed after all, not in this mortal wasteland. that friendships will fade and wane, that even the strongest bond will not stand the test of time. memories will remain just that. memories. and that too, one day, will fade into nothingness as time slips slowly slowly slowly through your cursed fingers.

i am tired of putting in so much and getting back so little. expecting nothing and receiving expectations in return. seeing how ugly a friend can get, and in thus realising, only to see how ugly a friend i really am.

so you see, my friend. at the end of the day. i do not even know who you are.

see you next year.

heil.

+

studies in the park.

2004-11-02T21:17:12Z

i hesitated when i saw this straight, still figure in black on the bench. just then she lifted a pale, thin hand and lifted her veil. i saw her face. it lay bared, in the black folds of her borkha, like a flower, wax-white and composed, like a persian lily or a tobacco flower at night. she was young. very young, very pale, beautiful with a beauty i hd never come across even in a dream.

your blood flows like poetry from her lips.

2004-11-01T15:34:16Z

Your Beauty lies in Contradiction. Controversial, unpredictable, and never what anyone expects. You appearance and your personality are two opposite things. Even your appearance sends different signals to different people. To some you may look innocent and sweet, to others you look mysterious and intimidating at the same time. No one ever knows what to expect with you. You are a little bit of everything all mixed together. You can be watching the football game with the guys one minute and the next out shopping at the mall. You seem to be almost a different person every time you meet someone, but at the same time you know exactly who you are and there is always that one thing that makes you you. You enjoy keeping people guessing and people love how completely unpredictable you are.

Some Things That Represent You:

Element: Fire, Water Animal: Chameleon Color: Dark Tones, Light Tones Song: Everything by Alanis MorriesetteExpression: Half-smile

Gemstone: Opal Mythological Creature: Gryphon, Half-breeds Sign: Gemini Planet: Mars Hair Color: Red Eye Color: Brown

Quote: "Appearances can be deceiving."

games at twillight.

2004-11-01T14:44:09Z

the grass is green,
the rose is red;
remember me
when i am dead, dead, dead, dead...

and the arc of thin arms trembled in the twillight, and the heads bowed so sadly, and their feet trampled to the melancholy refrain so mournfully, so helplessly, that he could not bear it. he would not follow them, he would not be included in this funeral game.

aerial_sprite @ 2004-10-27T00:02:00

2004-10-26T17:26:32Z

in the velvet from dusk to dawn
nothing reigns save the wasteland of immortality
sea blood on her lips
crimson tricking on her cheek
moonlight running through her veins

o man pedich?

Inside Out

2004-10-22T17:05:33Z

When I was young and free and my
imagination had no limits, I dreamed of
changing the world.

As I grew older and wiser I realised the
world would not change.

And I decided to shorten my sights
somewhat and change only my country.
But it too seemed immovable.

As i entered my twilight years, in one last
desperate attempt, I sought to change
only my family, those closest to me, but
alas they would have none of it.

And now here I lie on my death bed and
realise (perhaps for the first time) that if
only I'd changed myself first, then by
example I may have influenced my
family and with their encouragement
and support I may have bettered my
country, and who knows I may have
changed the world.

It was the use of you.

2004-10-14T14:48:53Z

To Plath, To Sexton
Jean Valentine

So what use was poetry
to a white empty house?

Wolf, swan, hare,
in by the fire.

And when your tree
crashed through your house,

what use then
was all your power?

It was the use of you.
It was the flower.

oh, so painfully sweet seventeen.

2004-10-13T10:55:09Z

+

it hurts when you have unshakable faith in your old friendships and life shows you [again] who's boss and who does the deciding of circumstance around here.

when old doors close [even if only momentarily] and new ones open, it hurts even when you like what's behind the new door, because deep down, you still want the fondness and familiarity for what's known and loved.

it hurts when you think back of days of lost innocence, and of so many days yet to come. days of oh so human elusive intangibility like family, friendship, and love.

and when you shed your first tears of seventeen for someone who means so much more to you than you could ever hope to mean to that person, do you cry again at that long-ago buried realisation..

+

aerial_sprite @ 2004-10-04T20:07:00

2004-10-04T12:34:45Z

on the day of her econs afternoon paper, a girl collapses onto her bedsheets at 6, crawling to the window thrice to watch the sky turn from deep velvet to purple ink to the gentlest hue of blue. then she fell asleep. at half past nine, she suddenly sat upright, grinned broadly to no one in particular, sprang to her feet, whirled around to return the big fat soft bolster back to its big fat soft family, and straight as a rod, the last thing she saw was the big fat soft comforter approching to meet her vision very fast.

she fell asleep somewhere along the way from next to the bed to on the bed, with the broad grin still plastered on her face.

tneme

2004-10-01T16:06:47Z

This is Tneme. Tneme used to be the god of Enslavement, some time ago. He was born as the result of a very unholy union - the God of Pain had raped the Goddess of Freedom.

As Tneme grew up, he came to realise that the true god of slavery was not /him/, but rather the chains that hid inside his veins. They played him like a puppet. Forcing him to do things he would rather not have. They writhed and twisted inside of him and the pain of resisting them was unbearable. Eventually, he managed to plea to his mother for aid, and she forced the chains out of him (though they found a new host, eventually). Tneme was god, no longer, after that. He lost his powers and his home - forced to leave the world where he was born.

Lonely, bitter, and with a broken heart, he sits on a swing in the woods, contemplating the loss of his life and childhood.

my favourite from the lot by linda bergkvist~
http://www.epilogue.net/cgi/database/art/view.pl?id=10837

aerial_sprite @ 2004-09-22T23:04:00

2004-09-22T15:20:47Z

and still. i find no relief. if the gift of forming words out of pure emotion was never mine to ease my soul, i could have at least been spared the curse of this deafening silence.

aerial_sprite @ 2004-09-22T22:43:00

2004-09-22T14:55:54Z

there is incessant noise all around me. meaningless empty chatter. and im screaming my lungs out. in a hollow soundless voice that no one hears. least of all you. and there is no point to feeling. if you cant feel anything but extremes. and i want to beat the invisible walls around me. with my bare fists. until my flesh is raw and the blood drips, warm and red and real. and break free. and cry and laugh and love with a child's wild abandon. but i can merely rock my broken self back and forth, and keep myself to myself. in a world where laws are laid down, unspoken, binding laws that tell you not to feel, and why not to feel. i am screaming now. with sheer raw energy. but nothing flows out of me. only crystal clear droplets. oh we, whose youth were so rich with promise. somewhere along the way, we must have lost ourselves. i know. i know. all good things must come to an end, one day, too soon. there is no love. only pain. and memories. i want to break free. i want to beat my wings with a furious flutter. i want to scream. and laugh. and cry. as if there's no tomorrow. i want to sit alone in the dark. and fear nothing. until i am a part of the darkness. we were made alone. and we leave this world, alone. but words fail me so. why does this torment me so. can i not even seek solace in the transformation of tears to words. oh cant you see. the colours are fading. in the end, there is only darkness. and me. sitting all alone. fearing nothing but the end.

picture of stillness.

2004-09-21T13:54:33Z

i get my results for tsd tomorrow.

right here, right now, i can sincerely say i love tsd.
and not much else.

i guess when you fall in love with something, and fall out of it somewhere along the road.. there's always the possibility of falling for it all over again.

i have mellowed out a lot.
i keep myself to myself a lot more now.

i like sitting alone in the dark.
i cherish dancing by myself in the rain.
i find myself watching from the outside of chaos.

and, like myself, my love for my loves has changed.
into something quieter.
like a picture of stillness.

my love for tsd is like that.

black lace and red satin.

2004-09-18T16:30:29Z

alone in a world of selves.

just leave me alone.
but do stay and take some time to get to know me.

let me walk out on everything.
but do run after me and take my hand and bring me back.

pretend you dont see me crying.
but do sit next to me and see the person only my tears reveal.

dont say anything. just hold my hand and dance.

the incessant ramblings of a teenage girl off her rocker part II

2004-09-03T04:13:35Z

i want to curl up with my spongebob under the covers when the day is harsh and wake up when everyone else is asleep and everything is still and quiet and sit on a rooftop somewhere high up and eat peanut butter ice cream and read fantasy and dance in the rain.

i just dont want to have to go to school.

you.

2004-08-26T03:48:13Z

and the colors danced in the rain, their vividness mocking the poet's riot of greyness.

blurred images of sharpness
and visions of you.