P-chan's messy head
You can disappear now.
Sometimes it feels like an itch you can’t scratch. When lost, I think about my guru, who talks truth and sense. I think about my godfather, who encourages me to do the right thing, and I think about my priest, who forgives me for my mistakes. What more does a woman need? The tickle is Read More …
It seems this summer is treating me with a whiff of autumn, and deep inside, I love people’s repetitive complaints; I love it sincerely. Autumn is more evident back home. The trees are confused; they shake off leaves with indecisiveness, indicating a spoon full of indifference. And this is it. Nothing really matters. I took Read More …
My all-time favourite god has three sons, and sometimes I wonder which one I would date. Zeus strikes me as a jock, so I’d rather not. Besides, he is the manwhore that impregnates everything that moves. Poseidon abandons you after a one-night-stand. And there is Hades, who gets the leftovers of what is no longer Read More …
Time and memory don’t ever digest in mind; it’s only perception that filters and cleanses them when ready. I can’t help but remember specific details clearly. It’s not that my mind sees what it wants to see. Once it sees the truth, I feel like death – a state of mind that you won’t ever Read More …
My appetite is terrible today and was yesterday too. That’s good, though. On the other hand, I’m not sure if it’s smoking; I’ve grown a bit attached to it. I used to gain comfort from a body, and now the comfort is inside some skin that holds tobacco together. The only difference is that there Read More …
How ironic that I want time to go fast, but I can’t keep up with it once it does. Every moment passes me by like a blink of an eye, and I’ve only just let the taste dissolve on my tongue, and I’m already moving on to the next thing. It’s going a bit too Read More …
Lay your head on where my heart used to be Sweet whispers drowned under the sea Forgotten words and heartbeats Say goodbye with the last breath of defeat Rest your head on the green grass Think of me sharp as the clouds pass And if the sky falls upon your head The memories will Read More …
Time has its unique tactics. Whenever I feel I’m determined to go against it, I become tired, and it grows bigger than anything. Then a series of disruptive sleep and a bleeding scalp get in my way. I don’t think I’ve quite figured how to chill out yet. It seems my mum is worried and Read More …
Today, 33 years ago, Ian Curtis was alone at home. Very alone.
I’m on my own. That is me, the white sea and the sound of truth – the necessary ingredients to arouse solitude into creative action. That was all I used to know before I got more involved with people. It seems the more I try, the more I lose it. I confide in many, as Read More …
