this is a very warm dream.

Today's one of those days, where I wish I lived in a world where no lines bind a nation, and this planet is one giant park where we could roll down the slopes of China and land in the banks of Cuba.

It's one of those days when you just want to stay at home and be out there at the same time, half in, half out. Like I'm sitting on the edge of my veranda, curled against the softest pillow and my nervous legs are stretched, long enough to soak up the rays of the unyielding sun.

I can taste the cooking from next door. It's the wind, bragging the scent of whatever's there on your table, Neighbour.

It's one of those days where you spill bits of ripped paper from atop an 11-storey building, and see how it dances its way towards the ground. In beautiful, arrested movement. I can't dance like that, not even half as graceful.

I can close my eyes and disappear under the warmth. I disappear, and then I'd fly across the sky as though I'm on rocket power, just as easy.

I'd land beside a grand piano, in the middle of that same giant park, playing endless tunes on an empty seat. What a momentum. This is Chopin, not Bach.

I look up before pulling up the blankets. I'm curling up underneath it, leaving all the brightness behind. This is a dream. This is a very warm dream.

---
October '08
.

after hours.

No, this isn't my original song. I still suck very much at making music, so for now I'm keeping a promise I made to Bestiepoop, who requested that I record myself doing a cover of Velvet Underground's "After Hours".

This is, actually, only the second song I've played on my guitar, so excuse my morbid amateurism.



Download link is here (Bestiepoop might want it, but if anyone else finds my voice bearable and would like to download it, you may click at your own risk. Consider this a warning. Although, it would indeed make me a very happy puppy, hee.)

My songwriting career, by the way, seems to have sunk before it even sailed. I still can't manage to create any sort of worthy music. Let's face it, yours truly is rather talentless in that department. Sigh. :(
.

the man without a face.

The man without a face has no mouth
But you can hear the venom in his voice

The man without a face has no eyes
But he has a glare that could kill

The man without a face has no nose
But he could smell fear from miles away

The man without a face has a heart
But it is locked away and hidden
Behind a ribbed cage
As though it is shameful
As though it's a disgrace

Because the man without a face knows
That if he gets his heart broken
He would die three times over

And all the insecurities he has ever kept
Would float right up to the surface of his face
In the shape of a nose
A mouth
And a pair of eyes

And the man would then have a face
With nothing to hide

The empty mask has fallen to the ground
And everyone can see the sadness in his eyes

---
June '09
.