Battle Royale 2

Are we sure about him, Valentina?" Virginia asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Oh he's perfect! I put him through some rigorous testing and he came out with flying colours," Valentina beams.

Briana rolls her eyes. "By that she means she asked him if he prefers fufu or rice and he said  'fufu' ".

"Plus, he has an appetite for deep sea diving," Valentina winks.

"Aww, we're a match made in heaven," swoons Virginia.

Briana rolls her eyes for show but the others know she's secretly delighted too; he laughs at her mildly clever jokes afterall.

Ordinary love

I want to wake up late to your smile
Make love to you and cuddle for a while
Get up to do mundane things together
Like cook, and run errands and talk about the weather
I want to take a walk with you at dusk
Hold hands and smell the evening musk
Come to bed and see a movie,
Talk and laugh and end up smooching
Make sweet love and fall asleep
Then wake up and just repeat

Marooned

It’s the promise of mental forays into territories ignored;
that has me feeling excited that I took this call;
lets question the answers to the x+y’s of our tired lives;
let’s mock the quo like it doesn’t affect our strife
let’s pretend like we’re invictus and reality won’t evict us
from our high horses, while we sing along to bands that don’t even exist yet,
and make music of our own tapping our feet to the beat
and swearing that’s what music ought to be.
We’ll pant to that chant that’s made more rounds around the sun
than songs have been sung
and convince ourselves that we heard it in a way not understood by others
because ours is a land unchartered.
We’ll lie to ourselves that our ideas are grand,
scheming our next revolutionary thought on what’s fickle because it’s all fickle; what’s under the sun;
they flicker, bloom and die, we all die
so while we can, we’ll stay locked up in your room
where your maroon walls are all we see when we bother to come up for air,
we’ll leave the world out there
on your doorstep,
fighting to invade our space with the rudeness of reality’s wet blanket,
but it’ll take only our sunsets
to expressly relieve us from these four walls of our non-confinement.

Happy

I want to be happy
but happy doesn't want to be me.

About some shit

The ground is always moving under my feet.
I wish it would cease.
Maybe that's why I hate escalators;
When I stand still, I would like to remain in the same place.
I'm tired of the  scene changes
But it is only when my world shifts that I write good shit;
maybe that's why I do this.
I define insanity over and over again hoping for more meaning.
I wish I could stop feeling.
But chasing mirages seems to be my default
Set in my ways of attracting strays.
Strays who would rather not be saved.
Good guys finish last;
Good girls? Well, we're left with the good guys turned bad.

It's on you

It pains me to hear when people who have spent some time with me say they were:

1. bored, 

2. uncomfortable,

3. distracted

How dare you! You should be here for all of this! You should be present - awed, even, for the splendour of my existence having been bestowed upon you. 

If you were bored then that's because you are a boring person, and I would implore you to keep that kind of negativity away from my life.

If you were uncomfortable, well, that I understand, so much amazement does tend to throw one of kilter. 

And if you were distracted, fire burn you! You're like the pig who ended up with the pearls; it was wasted on you. You too should not consider approaching me again. 

You may stop reading now.

Battle Royale

“What have any of them ever done for us but bring us pain and frustration? Really, let’s think about it. The first one ripped Valentina a new one just for appreciating something as beautiful as the moon. The second one was verbally abusive, the third one had a wife in another country the fourth…”

“We remember, Brianna, we were all there, no?” Valentina cut in. 

“Yeah, Brianna, but who gives a shit? If he has something we need then what’s the fucking problem?” That's Virginia as she pops her bubble gum.

Brianna looks like a cross between a free-spirited bohemian and a boring academic, Valentina is homelier but rather glum and Virginia is clothed like your stereotypical femme fatale, balancing expertly on stilettos, chest thrust out looking like she could blow the first thing in pants that comes along.

 

And she will; she’s the one trying to convince the other two to accept the untrustworthy bastard just to scratch an itch.

 As my head, my heart and my body battle it out, the untrustworthy bastard calls me and tells me he’s on his way to my place with food and wine.

The battle is lost.