Anju Unplugged.
Wandering through fiction looking for the truth.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Amblin'
Friday, May 06, 2011
You write what you can, when you can.
Desperately seeking inspiration, curling comfortably in this downward spiral of self-hatred and doubt. Excuses or the lack of it, the repetitive syllables falling past your lips into the ears of the misguided fools. Poison, the viscous liquid shifting in the light as you play with the bottle, spinning it this way and that. Droplets of red falling from the broken skin, slowly increasing to a flow. The sharp glint of the knife that was in your hands, lying dormant at the edge of your vision. A masquerade, words that are lies besmirching your thoughts. Struggling internally, the torment in your mind escalating. Thunder, lighting, disasters becomes the calm that you yearn for. Waiting for the inner turmoil to be expressed by something else, something other than your mind. Watching everything go by; only waiting with regret. Infantile relationships dancing at the fringes at your thoughts. Simple. Pure. Sediments laying softly at the bottom. Fingers tighten around the glass, the tipping of the bottle. Falling of the bright, red flow into nothingness. It pools at your feet, growing. Soles pulsate and blister. Welcoming the pain, tipping the bottle right over. Droplets falling, leaving nothing behind. That metallic glint, infringing your thoughts of it's use. Pushing it in, dragging across unblemished skin. Breaking boundaries of biological reasoning. Losing judgement, disregarding reason. The need to feel. The need to yearn. Limits becoming faint lines in the mind, an abandoned road. Restraint holding no meaning. You watch life drain before you; breaths become gasps; vision become tunnels. All you have left is darkness. and calm.
Sometimes.
You write what you want, when you want.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
GIRL CRUSH.

