Ruthless Indulgent

Appended by feasible reasons, abstained by au natural ersatz of subliminal virgin thoughts, I am left behind, with infinite feast of not to fall, in love, again. Deceit has its own new sustenance. Masticating ominous of putrid gluts. Intonated. Introverted. Intoxicated. Valor after valor of sans saints lovable fomentation, dolling over my cuss inertia. Subservience hallucinating of the crème de la crème blood in the veins. She is one hell of the hoi polloi lady.

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Effete wisdoms are cavorting dubious grasp in my ever feeble world. Commonsensical prelude is the so called of all I ever needed. Yeah, prudent equals decree of the fucking fuck. We are the cynical cohorts of our own Florence nightingale. Contentious. Quivering the basic lingua of soul wishes. They say the colourful rainbow is the shell of sheer gratifications.

And I’d say “How could you be in hell, when you are in my heart?”

Wonder-full

If I can tally the sporadic flickering lights in backpacking paradise of Khao San Road, I think I’ll lose my scrupulous sane mind. Mild, flashing neon bulb intermittent with horrendous lunacy. Lip lap, lip lap, lip lap. Fondly known as KSR, it’s the place where you get your hair beads up, henna tattoos, massages and of course, roasted pork. Scandinavians, Japs, Jews, Brits, Swiss, French, Americans and all sorts of nations blended sanctimoniously, beneath the sacred forename of traveling travelers.

After sunset, say around eight pm, the whole KSR will be closed from passing by traffics, and the circus begins. Herds and herds of inhabitants thronging along the road, carousing and such. Pubs and discos are countless, flip a coin or whatever. But mind you, entering any deafening maiden pub will encountered you with a mandatory body frisking. Heheh. Yes cik adik manis, rabalah tubuhku yang seksi yinneyyyy.

Now, its the hub of this entry. After 12am, most of the shops selling shirts and all will be closed. And this is when the real party begins. Faggots are a plenty, and kekejian mereka itewww is such an eye opening experience. Set aside from that, there will be also these illegal street peddlers who sell trinkets, jewelries, shits and stuff. It's Thailand baby, anything goes. I make friends with these people. Lepaking with them, and even up to the extent of selling for them, especially to the farangs, since their England is a bit limited. No, I didn’t get anything, sukarela-lah.

But hell break loose when the police or akin to DBKL make a surprise visit. In split seconds, the pavement will be cleaned of such activities. Just wrap your belongings and put it aside as long as it is not disturbing the pavements. It was soo much fun. Even the makcik who sells jagung bakar pun acted like nothing happened. Steady la makcik. The business resumes as usual once the authorities are gone. And the carnival sessions repeat itself once the man in uniforms make their rounds again. Bloody hell. Me like long long time.

Its about 5am when this fiesta reached its end. Revelers from pops and pubs are making their way to bunk their heads, thawing with illuminations of Chang Beer and such, towing together with bombshells that promised you all morning of shaking beds experience. Yaayyy!!!...for them.

Life is indeed fun, when you know how hard it works, kapish?

Love

Love, sunshine has been gleaming its mighty glimmer. The pandemic of yore is no longer in my heart. I am, no longer, bleeding. Sparkling like a novel born baby, colourful multihued aurora deleted the phantasm of your noir gloomy shadow. A figment of sanguinity is all I have. Detriment sans bright shining stars is no longer in my spurious castle in the sky. Remorseful for all sundry god given. I’ve been to the unfathomable hollow, now I am fighting to stand. And I will live, gloriously.

Love, these bubonic of merriment moments are rather, tick tocking on my frivolous mind. Calcifying I am not. Purification is human translation for zest. Zing of breeze pushed me forward. Tacit love demented soul. Amalgamated by pure saint of joy. Of all things beautiful.

Sayang, hold my hands, and let me hold your heart. We’ll dance through these clouds of myriad faint stars.

And I will love you forever.

Enraptured, Inner Beauty

Copiously, an infidel corporeally is like a troupe of corpulent heartrending sheer folly. Being not is more, chanted them. Blasphemous thee psyche, belligerent understanding pricks that just follow, shoveling ass shoveler, an aficionado of his poetic jittery phantasms, having halvah for lunch, sashaying stanzas of feast. Blood, noir and cerulean are the colours of darkness, parasitical like haze colon choking on your nasal. Spartan fueled by paroxysm and rhetoric. Brouhaha.

Zealots purport, having faith in blindly is not good for thee heretical soul, as He is Oft Merciful, Oft Forgiving.

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Miraculously, strain of impetus devotion smiling piously to me. Ablating vaguely of pertinent matters. Rowing of nolens volens questions. Ratifying indolent memories. Yearning yours truly fantasy. Mystifying the mystical. Emancipation eradicates my misery. Inanity is all over. Narrating the cantus firmus. Nomenklatura is firmament.

Lovely.

Poignant is Merrily

Ricochet of jovial lunacy emitting ad infinitum from my zing, prancing verses after verses of lurid carcass, colouring contents of colourful rainbow. Entwine like magic palter. I am dumbstruck. Dandelions are roaming freely. Gushing by the fresh zephyr of the lovely summer. Magnifying memento transcending ignorant and sacrilegious euphoric meditation. Imperia of impertinent are the story of vertigo. Like a pandemic of yore, I am no longer in desolation, for I am an ex x-men, I’ll heal my own sorrow.

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Vehement inanity is actually a pique of the apparition in yours truly distention. White is black, and black is white. Subterfuge is the conscience of Harry Houdini. Misery can be addictive, or it has molded precedence. A persona non grata. Bland is the favourite tang. As I am emanating under the holy shadow of darkness, gazing at the ruins of my empire, trolling temple, the toast of harum-scarum, I realise, I am a free essence. Dancing alone, on the milky way.


A wandering wanderer of my soul, i am the traveling traveler of your heart.

Because You were My Heart, You were My Soul

Sea breeze in Lamai was, graceful and mindless, something to breathe your last breath for. The blue cobalt sphere was gleaming marvelously, compounded by white virgin powdery beach. I am a dreamily psyche, of things happening in my life, valid copiously. Creating a mirage of human façade, exasperating mind-blowing phantom, opera on the stage, and we are the actors.

She was soothingly adorable, tanning her nicely arched body, like a carnival under the flicker of tropical sun, wobbling a pair of faultless tits, yeah, you read it perfectly, breast, boobs, twins, buah dada, nenen, whatever. Pluto in my head. As our eyes gazed together, she smiled and in prodigious seconds, voila, she was standing in front of me. “You alone?” And I am intermittently blinking, non-stop. And blink, and blink, and blink.

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Of a mix Vietnamese-German parentage, Eva is one hot mama, silky shining long black hair, with a career as a stewardess in one of those German carriers; she was on holiday with her son. A gorsy curse for me, she smelled like a flower, stoning my heart, paralyzing my soul. As I danced my lyrical lyrics, she was clearly amazed with my maze story of yore, hawking, gawking, flinging, I am the king.

One final killer line sputtered from that lovely pouted lip was. “My boyfriend will be taking my son to Chaweng tonight; im not going…”.

"Dear God, test me with what you may, not with a germane German/Scandinavian/Japanese complete with a ludicrously perfect twins."


And no, i didn't do it.

Losing My Virginity

You might vomit blood after reading this entry but frankly my dear, I don’t give a damning damn.

I don’t know where to start. Yodeling sounds of impurity. My fizz and effete is no longer in grasp. Magical insanity has sets its ostentatious smile, but not me. I am still draining, impeding nocturnal mortal, waiting for hell morphing to heavenly.

“What’s about virginity?” asked your sanctimonious heart. Why is it so mighty imperative? Now don’t get too obtuse. I am a practicing Muslim, only my view is a bit way liberal. I’m not encoring adultery here. So you better read circumspectly and not run, as assumptions are the mother of all fucked up. I’m writing this piece of blasé, not for you, my honourable blog friends. It's for me, entrain declarations for my prospect adore.

To you, my future wife, I don’t care should virginity is no longer in your conception. I will face it with brawn, like a brass forager belching on the capitalist arm. I love you, and I will ask for your hands, for who you are, not for what times of yore have impacted you, force majure or not.

To you, the sovereign winds of my cosmos, no, I won't blame you should life did not consecrate us with a smile of the little one, because you are the baby in my heart. Empiric persona of pure sparkler. Sanctify me with your boundless love, and I will surrender all the things I have in this world.

"And i love you because all the entire universe conspired to help me find you" - The Alchemist

Imprudently Inclined

At dawn this morning, after weeks and weeks of trolling hallucination, I woke up with an impious smile. Infusion of all good deeds, maddeningly lovable in my mind. Agilely, im blown out by the proposition, the basic tenets of youth. Rowing my dogma in the different personas of spurious sinister. A stigma of plain and colourful. Bare and stripes. Hazy in the pack. Deep deep inside the miraculous gale lantern of the lighthouse, far far away in the never never land. Shredding the last forte of my quill. I am tortuous. Infatuation of love. Period.

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The phantom of torment and dreamland, emerge, rather in the constitution not audible for us. Auspiciously endeavored in the line of incognito poignant. Blend and bland. We live in our own frolicsome heaven, we live in our own tetchy hell. Subconscious of the luscious. The direction of this unhappiness undoable sustained the substance. Its an easy virtue to fathom. For me, clown is the saddest human in the universe. We shall make do with what we have, let live and don’t let die.


"Maybe we'll live and learn , Maybe we'll crash and burn" – Ordinary People : John Legend.

And I Shall Remember Your Kind Gestures

Guys, madnessinvain is having a terrible terrible flu and demam right now. He better lay down for a while. And among his cranky wish list are telur penyu, tarian rama-rama and Dian Sastrowidoyo. Ishh...ngegader.