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-Dreams are meant to be dreams, the only thing that possibly can come true, is a lie-

"As for the time being, everyone noticed that their beloved and adored clown been missing out in action late because he had to attend some minor issues of his own. The curtain and stage it self are longing for his personal touch of twisted and sick humor,spontaneous jokes about life and sex and death and all. The sweet clicking noise of the soundless keyboard, where he jolts all his wits and instantaneous impulses of his neurotic sense,without filtering for any kind of censorship, goes straight to his horny fingers, running down the crowd, like a blind old-man stroking him self in the dark to a blind female singer that he fantasized while he watches the death of poetry in literature nowadays. Well, it ain't blood and tears no more these days. As the dark cloud been marching off, the rabbit done died. The place once house a great deal of great memories, now fill with sick stenches of the dead and rotting bodies of sick lies and deceits that the man once thought a legend hides it all. The vultures will soon pick-up on this reeking smell of degenerate foul, and soon the skies will be dark again, not clouds this time. Instead ,wings of feathered being, hunger for a taste of decompose corpse, lying around the battlefield.

The skeletons are out from the closet and dressing up to hit the streets. But who am i to stop them, as these kind of secrets have a funny way of showing themselves out to world and making their self at home, getting comfortable and all. The owner shall be prepared for these kind of events. A liar must be prepared to take all the coming consequences for the sins he commits. Grip your fist firmly, grind your teeth on each other nicely, because, this is not the end. Its only the beginning of a long journey up ahead. And please be reminded to fasten your seat-belt, keep your tray table secured and your seat to an upright position. We'll be landing on the land of promises very shortly."

I've abandoned my blog for a long time for numerous reasons, and obviously I've ran out of ideas to write. What does one's should write when it comes to a dead end in his mind? I've been pissing smokes out of my word-factory lately. All the brilliant and wicked ideas bout fictional writing have been taken away from me instantly. Maybe its the burden my mind can't bear, a check my ass cant cash. Hell,i wrote it anyway,the damn check. Now the debts are on me. Thank G-O-D for the reasoning he gave me,the courage,the will,to broke out of my own prison,my own forsaken blockade that hold me,confines me behind a horrid lie,a deceitful life,a gateway and invitation to hell itself. Devil smiles cunningly as he devour me into the inferno.

Even it is so pleasing at the time, to live a life of false hope, fragile hearts and fucked up situations, but I'll tell you, some nights, even when you are not lonely, in my world at that times, the most loneliest night you'll ever experienced. There's a point in that life of mine, where it all stops to be pleasing and nice. All the laughter seems fake, all the jokes seems like someones making fun of someone's someone dead mother, all the fame and glory, gives you a funny feeling in your stomach, makes you wanna throw out any bodily fluids via your mouth's opening. Then the dream-catcher, stare right into your eyes, start to optically paralyzing you, blurring out the edges of your vision, one by one,  the life-like lie, the imagination, the people who you adored and adored you, taken away, eaten, chewed out of their flesh and bones by these horrifying creature from the dark. You'll felt a chilling breeze blowing through the curtains of your bedroom window. Not too cold at first, but as the night embarks, the freeze sets in, defying your own body temperature, lonely in the blistering cold of loneliness.

But there i was, with her, down by the lake. Somewhat awe me, and yet disgust me at the same time: the pink fungal growth on every spike of rubbish, or whats left sticking out of yet to be an attraction to fresh-student at the learning institution just up a head. Whatever that pink thing was, the question lingering in my mind, why does it infest the lake? Why? What catalyzes the infestation? Is it some kind of a toxic waste someones irresponsible to the nature dumped into the lake? Is it contagious? Does the spores infect human being and start turning us into mindless-pink-diseased freak? Suddenly, the siren comes singing, snapping me out of my unanswered inferences and hypothetically justice.

The science of fungal reproduction, manifestation and spore transfer theory were crushed by an unjustified justice blaspheme. The league continues, as me, once a scientifically observer of life around me, fights to just the unjust, with a law-educated person, like herself, that have all the facts,acts and judicial presidency on every single thoughts i have. Easily encountered, I'm out numbered by the very own law and justice we live on nowadays. The loop holes, secret passages leading to hidden doors that are fabricated by the very own corrupted souls in facilitating the corrupted kind with only one purpose: to pilot around the twists and hair-pin turns around these rocky, unstable and rough canyon we called life safely without a scratch. Believe me, these canyons are not made for those fainthearted. As the mathematical theory proves that the shortest distance from point A to point B in a straight line, but hell, if one willing to climb up and down these canyon. With the torturing wind, hailstorm, plus, we never know what kind of creatures lurking in the dark at its foggy abyss, waiting and wanting some poor soul to come tumbling down. Well that's the real story behind the curtains of reality. Even in real life, it doesn't always what it seems.

Then there it is a again! The siren, calling me back to reality. I dozed into dreamland to often, I've almost forgot what a beautiful being in front of me, giggling and smiling. He who dearly to descend me this being from up above, have a humorous way to make me feel hope, feel numb to the pain, smile in every tear, laugh in every page of condemn and critics, living my life like i should. Maybe its her witty jokes, her independent view on life as we all know it, or maybe her vague appearance: the smile that flares up into a small,mini-sized laughter every time i make a stupid face expression. Accompanied along side with her almost-red-head passion, a petite star in my lonely heart that shine to darkest days of my life. Even in this case, bitter and sweet does not come together as a word, as the moments of bitterness with her is rapidly sustained by the moment of sweetness comes short after. Whatever destined for me up ahead, as long as there is her, there's always me, and with me and her, there is us, against the world, against this cruel, cruel world.

A very successful day, I suggested to my self earlier on my way home. I've manage to hold on to the end of the meet without any premeditated arguments, without any slight hint of anger or sadness in her breath as i kissed goodbye. Comforting. Her final battle's tomorrow. She'll need all the energy and wisdom she can get her hands on. And I, as a joyous and yet humble companion, did just that. Giving her the right mind set to conquer the final hill on her journey this season: peace. Then, peace shall I provide her. Luck doesn't pleases me these days, so, may all your efforts be with you during your last purge.

For me, here I am. Lying lazily on my bed. With the a.c up and chilling up the room up to 20 degrees. Frostbites ain't getting to me with my comforter's up and covering me. The X42 here on my lap, digesting all that i have to give,spit and shout on this lovely 4:37 a.m. The gift earned with misleading details and falsified documents, this X42. Most utterly resembles a bastard child, but despite what it is, thankful is all that i ever praised. The keyboard has been kind to me since the past couples of hours, gently sinks in every single keystroke of my somewhat disturbed heart. Nowadays, even i cant determined what am i disturbed by, and it better remains that way for I'm not a thrill-seeker, seeking for a naked truth. I guess I'm riding this one out, gently, softly, with the beautiful being keeps me noted on the subject "not to get too excited with life". Taking it slow, day by day.

Good Morning and Good Day

Word Of The Day : Emolument
Its a noun with the meaning of "Payment for an office or employment; compensation". Its helds in the Middle English vocabulary and borrowed from Latin syntax : EMOLEMENTUM, that explains gain[pendapatan], which was originally meant for a miller's fee for grinding grain back in the days of grain grinding(Sigh! Gaji rupenye~ =.=)