Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

shell, part one

with 2 comments

Published June 21, 2006.

The entry that fucked up the rest of my day. Silly me, opening up old wound. Older wound, I meant. Old wound is Sue.

+++

I slept because I’m tired. I’m tired because my mind tired. My mind tired thinking of her absence.

The day after, after dusk she went to [him], near midnight she gave me a kiss, at midnight she greeted and said farewell to me while I fell asleep with this tired mind.

I slept well. I dreamt of her. I don’t remember waking up incessantly. I remember being awake, awake with that waking memories of her. I’m awake. Awake with her in my mind. Did I sleep well? With her, I did. Even if it is just a phantom image inside my head, she’s there. The body reel and my mind keel over. I lied. I didn’t sleep well.

I woke up at dawn, before dawn. And it was raining. Fate have it that it shall rain to cleanse and to rise this miserable aching. The cold air refreshing, cooling, but I don’t feel invigorating. It didn’t cleanse me. The humidity risen, tepid, my heart grew restive—restless. It raises this unquiet yearning.

It’s a coincidence she rang me before I could send her the messages. She directed me to the video repository site. There, I saw her sweet smile again, there; I heard her gentle voice again. It’s crazy. The song’s title and how we are crazy for each other. I saved and kept the video. The song I gave to her of yesterdays, was sang in [his] quarter with [him] strumming the guitar, serenaded by her voice. It’s the moment she spent with [him] last night. And how do I feel?

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory? The drizzle lulls, the earth damp. This Libran sun lights a dull beam. It tolls the warmth of his heart. In bed, he tosses, he rolls. In sadness, he sighs, he keels. In the middle of the lone field, he wonders how she feels.

“I feel. I’m a July child after all.”

It’s not just love passion, lost soul, livid moment, lingering hour…but there’s lust. Oh, did you know: the phrase “Morning Glory” is British slang, referring to an erection experienced after waking up. Morning wood. I lust for her love.

How did I spend the morning hour? Morning glory and morning lament. Elated with her voice, her messages and her fond memory, I remain awake, fleetingly. Then the crack of morose dawn marred the epoch. I lee behind the state of suspended animation, I be dead to the world. My state of mind deadened for awhile till I received her message before she took off to that highland theme park with [him].

She’s going there to celebrate the mutual amity between them. It’s their 36th month of “friendship” on the 21st June 2006. Her past relationship may not be platonic; her relationship with [him] isn’t platonic either. At least that’s what I told myself. Alas, she loves [him].

“Evil. That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

Indeed, she’s in love with two men in her life and torn between them: the one who gave 3 years of his live to her and the one who consummate his soul to her after one month and 13 days being IN love with her.

“Only different is I am IN love with you, my love.”

Ah, being a lover.

I hope she’s having fun, but only for her sake. Not theirs. I’m that selfish.

Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Possibly
And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice
That’s my only advice

+++

I felt thirsty. My lips parched. I went downstairs, drown the thirst. This worrying feeling never sated, never settle. I went back upstairs, when in most disconcerted moment, the tune: Shell, an opening theme in The Witch Hunter Robin played in the audio player with high fidelity. It’s the last song she sang to me in the morning after, before she went off to [him] yesterday.

Deep inside my parched throat
Lies the reason for this growing impermanence
Scared of the approaching tomorrow

I’m afraid, but…

I cower and collapse
But it seeks me out and whispers to me
This voice of thin darkness

…her voice whispers otherwise.

Written by cthulhu

May 26, 2010 at 9:48 pm

2 Responses

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  1. hi didi! i’ve just remembered my wordpress password! what’s all this wound old older thing!! dont la bleed too much your blood will dry up :p

    munirah

    June 4, 2010 at 5:12 pm

  2. I’m jaded like that :) If only old wound can burns fat.

    cthulhu

    June 5, 2010 at 1:29 am


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