NaNoWriMo 2008.

I'm a wiener.

Want to read the PDF manuscript? Megaupload link.

Want to buy the book? Cafepress.
(Save your money and donate it to the poor)

[Note: I keep updating this thing I know, but just a couple final words I swear. First off, for clarification - if you manage to write 50K words you are automatically a winner of NaNoWriMo. Content is not judged; hence why I said this was no real "cause for celebration." Second, caution before reading! I won't lie: I set out to write the most violent piece of horror fiction I could possibly create. There are no funny parts; no sad parts; nothing to make you all soft and cuddly inside. Looking back on it now - and kind of 'after the fact' - I set out to write something that was ultraviolent and maniacal, something that those super conservative Christian groups in the South would throw a book burning for. I never had any intention of anyone reading it, so don't think that I'm "insane" after you read it. And oh yeah, Toni said it was a "Fight Club" rip off, although I disagree. Hahaha. The end.]

freedom.

talk about a free-for-all?
don't be surprised when you find out her eyes are gliding
over forbidden skins and bowling pins.
because you're claiming titles of the real fall out, boy, and wanting it.
i'm detecting a deficiency in commonality and unmatching pheromones
in the compartments of your very placid brain.
the quiet, the order,
the peace, disorder
that can drive her out of anything but feeling sane.
i'm unfortunately predicting a slip on acid, burning the soft skins
and musculature her eyes resound on and off of like tidal waves for lunar periods of time.
boy, i'm just doing my usual crime.
we're pretty sure it's not what it used to look like anymore.
i'm slipping into a new scene of earthen shades and in secret niches of a corner cafe,
riding on slides of slander and the curvatures of another baring back
over cups and cups of tea and pearls and the things you lack.
i was never able to carry on with you the same way
because you're the closed end, and i'm your polar opposite
recalling relative variables to formulate a better line of fit.
so i can't help but acknowledge a new trend at this rapid rate,
you gotta' make it,
extrapolate it.
this is how fate lets it.
correlate it. damn it, you just don't get it.
we're slipping out of laundered threads while we're still alive in our heads.
going once, going twice,
wanting more than what should suffice.
i feel no guilt nor shame for the sake of facing eye to eye, and i believe in the notion of karma and reality.
you dish out your daggers, i'll bleed out blatancy.
you unsheathe your fists, i'll unravel your every noted discrepancy.
i will reveal your weakness and every insecurity by reopening each wound with the scalpel of your misfortune.
i will scrape at your sensitive scars.
i will make sure you relive the pain that comes from the course of bleeding and increase it ten-fold.
it will hurt so,
so much, you will regret the idea of you and me and fucking it.

Wells

I fell into her eyes
that spilled with crystal blue water--
like a well.

But her eyes were as bright
as icebergs that stand tall
and majestic
JUST to be noticed.

Those eyes they
grabbed me silently,
and discretely,
hoping to keep me kidnapped in those
lonely deep pupils.

NaNoWriMo!

Support Charmaine and myself (as well as anyone else!) who are taking part of NaNoWriMo!

Gypsy

You've heralded me
"The Sojourner,"
doomed to transient fame.
Every situation calls for
miniscule feats--
tiny success stories that
I hold so dear
with such fleeting promise.

Call me
Wilted Tulip
or Decomposing Flesh;
something that was once
lavishly assumed and consumed;
decadently spoiled and cooed.

Prologue:

I wrote this a few hours ago. I also posted it on my regular blog. It came out of me really fast (HA! That's what he said...) but I spent a good amount of time editing. I've always wanted to write a novel or something and I actually have a few subplots to go along with this prologue, but THAT's going to take a lot of time (which I currently don't have). Maybe I'll write a chapter or something every now and then and post it up... We'll see. If the creative juices flow.
------------------------------

The clock read 10:53 PM and with the sunroof open, they sat speechlessly in his car. He glanced at the dangling rosary under the rear-view mirror, looked in her eyes, and then, offered his hand. Instinctively, she stared at his hand, smiled, and filled the spaces in between his fingers.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you.
You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.

And boy, did he want to melt.

She reached through the void of the rooftop with an open palm and whispered, “It’s so close but so far away…”

“Yeah… just like you.”

He did not dare look into the windows of her soul and instead kept his gaze at the stars, praying that his wish would come true. For a split second, he waited for her response, for her to at least turn in his direction and reciprocate the same longing that he had for her. He pondered on what other possible curses she would bless upon him under their clear view of heaven.

The cell phone on her lap buzzed with vibration. Somehow, he knew it was time to let go.

With her newly-liberated hand, she looked at the caller ID, silenced her phone and refocused her attention on the stars. At least she looked like she did.

He already knew, but he decided to ask anyway: “Who was it?”

“Huh? Oh… It was just Markus.”

The future’s open wide.

“How come you didn’t pick up? You should call him back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him later.”

And at that moment, he realized that even if he saw a thousand more shooting stars after the one he already wished on, his wish had already, haphazardly, come true: she was happy.

DNA strings weigh me down

DNA strings weigh me down:
An Anchor in the blue
abyss of nothingness,
except conniving grudges
that stack up (like sand sediments
crinkled over the ages).
Never again can I
wobble to the consent
of my indecisive curiosity.
There is no such thing as
a liberty to concede to;
only stillness (as instilled by Nature
and sojourn faith), that
dictates everything.
Oh Tyranny; I balk at the thought.
Yet my heart is charcoaled, and crispy.