The Witch Head Reflection Nebula



I am a dreamer.

I know so little of real life that I just can’t help re-relieving such moments as these in my dreams,

 For such moments are something I have very rarely experienced.

I am going to dream about you the whole night,

The whole week, the whole year.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

They say when you remember a memory, you’re actually remembering the last time you remembered that memory.

See I really don’t like rain; or rather I abhor the fact that water has to fall for it to be called rain. I don’t seem to have qualms with hail or snow. Gloomy the heavens are quite different a tale, I rather enjoy the relative calm to it all. Although in retrospect it’s nothing but calm, the wind almost always blowing sporadically from one cardinal to the other, nonetheless you have to admire how silent it gets just before the skies open and the rain falls. In some respects I am a pluviophile.



Close your eyes.

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(Disclaimer: This story does not make any sense. It is a feeble attempt to make myself write again. Reignite the embers of a lost flame. I have been one lazy soul. I promise it won’t make the least bit of sense nor be interesting. Mark out the typos and highlight them for I promise I will only proofread it once, okay maybe five times.)


“If I’m an angel, paint me with black wings.” 

I’ve always wondered if one were to describe me, would they refer to me as a good or evil person? If to ask my friends they would say I am an evil person. Only to justify their opinion on the basis that I have an evil aura. My love for the macabre Deep down, however, to recant the statement, form a conclave & have dubious conversations about how I kill people with kindness and bury them with my smile. The audacity.

Who is the real me though? The dark shadow lingering shadow that everyone assumes to be harmless or that sweet hearted phantom dance partner I keep around intermittently.

I guess in all fairness, my innocence is as fragile as that of a butterfly. Remember those sweet multicolored insects that fly. It’s quite dark when you realize they are known to feed on blood.

As far as I can remember I have always loved the idea of a charred up personality. The idea of being nice hardly even struck me as funny. What if I am naturally evil? Shackled down only by my lack of power. I have to admit I have always been a naturally frail kid, the same applies to myself in adulthood. I wouldn’t exactly describe myself as what you’d call strong. My psyche is a little different though, in pieces but like glass, its brazen sharp in that form.

I’ve never been the bully or the hero in any juncture in my life. In a different life, I would love to be a bully of bullies though, tainted blood does seem to stain a beautiful shade of scarlet I believe. There’s just no flair in innocent, I wouldn’t take any pride in preying on the weak. Struggle does beget a beautiful kick. For now, I’m much satisfied with observing. I love to watch.

“Humans tend to be way interesting from a distance,” I tell myself. 

So where were we? Oh, yeah to pass judgment on my being, a choice to cast my soul into the nether of the ibis or the pearly gates of the heavens. I wonder.  What would one use to differentiate those of evil nature and pure souls? Religion perhaps, their actions? If it were religion I’m alike to most really, not exhaustive on the parley of belief and neither not one of disbelief. I handsomely have knowledge about the description of sin, I have my qualms when it comes to sins of the heart or should I say the mind. My thoughts are havens and crevices of murky dark waters. On that much, I’m no different from a man who raises a blade to a child. Then again sinning and being evil are purely two different concepts on their own, cousins sure but not entirely ever so in tow.


That leaves actions. As I have mentioned before I see no flare in hurting the innocent, the same cannot be said of the tainted. The catch, however, is I lack the strength. I reckon if I was powerful enough I would undeniably become the true embodiment of evil. To pass judgment as I saw it fit regardless of how warped a perspective I would have on society. I guess you could say I have a god complex. Everything would be judged by my law and not that of other men. Sounds like a dictatorship at his point rather than a democracy.

At this point, these may all seem like the rants of a madman, someone so obsessed with the idea of being what he’s not but has somehow convinced himself he can. The tear between reality and imagination. The overflow of an already super active psyche. I wouldn’t say you are half wrong.

There’s a certain image that comes to mind when I think of all this. It’s a common concept in most cartoons or comedies where a particular individual is tasked with a choice between wrong and right. Ever so often you will notice an angel and a demon on opposite ends of his/her shoulders. Evidently, they are shown to be commanding voices in one’s ear for one to make a choice. Personifications between a good or evil action.

If I was normal I would afford such a luxury, unfortunately, I’m far from it. My evil intentions seem to emanate from inside my head, my angel (my conscience) is dearly clinging by the cloth of my shirt, his competition, in a safe haven the bearer of my thoughts.

I guess as far as descriptions go I’m a villain waiting to happen, a day to turn left instead of right and ignite the madness to full fruition. The craziest part of it all – strangely I can finally be myself. The truth embodiment that was created. Sometimes to stain your halo just isn’t enough, you have to track it through the mad and through crevices of tar and smoke until it’s deeply stained, a hue of the colour of your actual soul.

Then again maybe I’m just watching too much anime. They do say too much tv rots your mind after all. I guess I’m rotten as they come. Catch a sniff, maybe you’ll catch a swift a swift of the sulfur emanating from my soul.

A Dose of Pain; But Twice The Madness

“Like crying wolf, if you keep looking for sympathy as a justification for your actions, you will someday be left standing alone when you really need help.”
― Criss Jami,

Naturally, I am a bad sick person – What’s the noun alternative to that? Patient perhaps. According to the thesaurus, I would be referred to as a number of things, everything ranging from an inmate to a sufferer. Truthfully the word wouldn’t be far-fetched considering that’s how I feel right now.

Unfortunately, that’s hardly the kicker. See most people get away with being normal sick, scratch that, I doubt there exists a peril where being sick is considered normal. Rather I guess I  mean I am hardly what you’d call a proper patient. I kind of whine a lot.


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Ten Seconds of Contemplation

“I’m not sure when exactly I stopped dreaming, I think I just woke up one day and shattered and thought to myself, Why live when it could be so much easier to survive? It’s like the whole thing has a different beautiful flare to it. To spare myself the headache and the occasional migraine and that ever punishing heartache. Hiding at the time from it sounded so reasonable. I had no business being a raindrop, void from the collection that is a raging river, I suddenly liked the idea of the collective. had a more beautiful flare to it than living. All I had to do was wake up, do some random shit and the only important thing was to breath. Just breath, forge all the paths I could, ultimately with no purpose but to make sure come given a different day continue the cycle.

oreUnfortunately now as I am standing near the window seal watching the sunshine strike a couple of glass planes across the horizon of my sight I can’t think of anything more mundane. My life regressed to the limits of the sun itself, stuck with no orbit what’s over, just a mass of burning gases. Burning over and over until such a day it’s dead.

I couldn’t have been so wrong I tell myself but now that I think about it, I’ve spent so much surviving, I’m not sure I know how to live any more. Living sounds like an ex-girlfriend to whom I can only remember the dark moments, hardly to get an innocent flash of a memory I can grow to cherish. Now all that remains is a disturbing conquest to buy time, ever to acquire a different second to breathe. Perhaps it’s an ouroboros in me, ever to consume my own being to feed that of tomorrow void of reason as to why I’m doing it in the first place.”

A Butterfly, Pretty To See, Hard To Catch

Someday, we’ll run into each other again, I know it.

Maybe I’ll be older and smarter and just plain better.

If that happens, that’s when I’ll deserve you.

But now, at this moment, you can’t hook your boat to mine,

Because I am liable to sink us both.

Gabrielle Zevin.

“So who’s you’re favorite author?”

I regretted the words the moment they left my lips. Saying it out loud it sounded like the least sane thing I could have opened with. Okay sure, it probably had an aura of sophistication or some warped justification I couldn’t think of yet but really, as an opening question? What next, first action, set myself on fire?  To believe I had actually maintained a charade of normalcy until now, funny how that felt like a million a year ago on different a lifetime.

“Normally I am under the assumption such a question comes eons after cliche queries like favorite meal or something as duff as say favorite color?” She replied taking a sip off her mug.

Are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking? The precise paranoid thought that crossed my mind, a second longer and my heart would have missed too many a beat for me to be in the land of the living. Relief came too quick when I noticed the strange hidden resemblance of a waning grin. Her sarcasm was lock, stock and barrel flagging.

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One Part Here, Two to Wane

Vanish into the ether
My mind reaching for a reason
In this life are we tools that are used to teach
Meaning or treason?

Agent Steel


Time:  01:27 pm

It’s cold. Freezing cold.Image result for COL;D

As cold as a damned witch’s tit. Just my luck, one degree lower and my eardrums will start acting up. That damned bane I’ve carried around for as long as I can remember. I’ve always assumed that if I had lived in those high altitude areas I’d be dead by now. I’m certain it’s not as deadly as hypothermia but try explaining that to my six year old self when I went crying to my mother explaining how I thought my head was exploding.

Oh! Don’t get me started on how numb my fingers are right now.

It’s ironical though, the one time I’m bothered to watch through the whole news segment and this is what I get. Few know how vexing it is to watch through the whole thing; the prime news, the sports & business segments just to watch a speeding segment of weather updates that hardly lasts a minute. Weather prediction at it’s finest, huh? At today’s current rate, I’m not really convinced it’s a science, I’d probably have better luck consulting a witch doctor. Have him do a head stand and stare up at the sky. At least then he’d have a better a better believable line of sight. If then to act upon gullibility & believe him, I have all my facts right.

“Sunny and clear skies are to be expected for the better part of the morning to continue into the late afternoon, she said”

“More like the devil decided to act upon his dark tetra and plunge us into a deep cold dark ibis.”

“I can’t even see the sun for crying out loud.”

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The Grand Experiment

“What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never know why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even know themselves. Nobody understands anybody.”

– Orson Scott Card

Perhaps this is the question I seek to eventually answer

“At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want,” said Lao Tzu. Okay technically am not sure when he said this or like where. I am however sure he didn’t say it in those exact words. In English any or perhaps there are misgivings of translation somewhere. Oh! This morning asked who he was I would have lied. Like straight up lied. Knowing me I probably would have spun something about a writer with an Asian descent. Well it wouldn’t have been that far-fetched, look at his name. Encase a memory or two about having collided into one or two quotes from some of his books then I would definitely have an ace in my deck – Not sure that’s the right poker lingo though, I can’t play cards right to save my own life.

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