msn conversations

c: is she worth it?

x: she’s worth anything.

how bloody sweet is that. :) i hope you find the answers you’re looking for.



fingers icy and shaking from the chill
fumbling gripping clawing at the walls
the tunnel goes on forever
but they say there’s a light at the end of it

but one is weary from the long crawl out
and realisation dawns,

that the light at the end of the tunnel has been snuffed out
by that careless hand, that whispered breath of indifference

what can one do, but sit and wait
and wait for the end to come to you instead.

dear mr postman

today i sent a letter marked for dear mr postman

i wonder if he remebers the crazy girl that drops off letters in the begonia letterbox addressed to dear mr postman. its been 2 years since i last did that, crazy huh. maybe he thinks i’ve come bacl from the dead, or that i’m another person, doing this crazy insane thing again.

i wrote a letter which would reach no one, with only the faceless & nameless mr postman knowing the secrets in it. a letter which i stabbed till there was a hole in the paper, a letter which has smudged ink from tears previously unshed.

i wrote for a good solid hour, incoherent thoughts and phrases, which flowed out of that lovely montblanc pen which i save for occasions just like these. angry words, happy words, heart broken words, magic words, deathly words, loving words. all the words i have said till my face turned blue and all the words i could not say in front of anyone.

then i signed it, xoxo me, and dropped it off adressed to aforementioned postman. and walked there, mailed it and hope, magically it would be delivered to no one, or you*. maybe in a fancy burst of shower fireworks you’d know. or that you1 would call, or that you2 would write, or that you* would respond.

wishful thinking c.

(anyway mark, because you asked, so nicely, here’s a coherent blog post. enjoy your vacation! get a suntan, pet a fish or two, kiss under the stars, go dancing under beach trees, have tons of loving greatness and most of all, treasure these precious moments.)



the benign cloud rabbits
the raindrops on a waxy leaf
the ripples on the oceans’ surface

the alcohol in a shot glass
the spark of a light
the drop of the last petal

the moment the 3 year offer was made
the love talk on pillows
the glint of a smile

the snapshot of exotic travels
the jibberjabber of the market place
the wag of the puppy’s stub of a tail

fleeting, as memories are long
but fleeting still i catch them
leaking out of my eyes and ears and mouth.
fleeting as the dragons twirl about my face
as the bees leave their buzzing in the blood
and cold, cold are these frozen hands.

fleeting, and nothing is permanent
dreams changed, morals compromised,
must-dos forgotten, must-nots beloved,
forbidden fruit tasted, hopes abandoned.

one must not get too attached to the tools of the world
for we are, above all, but a speck in the spectrum
of eternity.


the skin, it sublimates
wispy vapours from one’s skin
rises rises in a swirl in a twirl
and hovers above my head

if you saw me in the middle of the sky
would you recognise my face or the way i slouch in my seat
or the way i smell in the nape of my neck or the size of my feet

if we run into each other when we are old, and greyed
would you recognise my eyes beneath the cataract
or my body beneath folds of soft flesh and wrinkled skins

then, then would everything be too late?