Shades of Obsidian
Cave Quid Dicis Et Quand. Sed Ante Omnia, Quícum
Recent Entries 
5th-Dec-2010 11:40 pm - .:Oh My Gloomy Salad Days:.

Incarnadine flowers, layer upon layer.

Melancholy blooms across my mind.

Incarnadine flowers, layer upon layer.

Melancholy blooms across withered sea.

Edges stalked by chimera

Its dark forms a flickering phantasmagoric reel.


Everything familiar turns strange

I’m out of place

You’re not here anymore.

I never was.

So where – what is this?


Wilted petals cradle my form

Kneeling in blood,

Drowning in air.

But that's alright,

Because it's clearer than ever.

I'll stop breathing now.

The second part -  an extremely summarised version of "I'm not here anymore. Come to think of it, neither were you. You never were."
The sudden change from 1st person to 2nd person did have an interesting effect of

So many edits that I don't even know what's the point of this anymore LOL
Will do better next time, will try >.<
22nd-Nov-2010 10:36 pm - 虚伪讽刺

Its been a while since I last posted ne?
haven't found anything of note to post, f-lock-wise.

Actually that's a lie. I'm just lazy.
Not enough time to gather my thoughts and undergo extended emo-ness nowadays.





11th-Sep-2010 12:50 am - Apathy
A quick post to warm up for the (locked) other post.
Remember that this is fiction, i will be very sad if people distance themselves from me just cos i write about apathy.
(who doesn't experience apathy anyway)
Interpretation is FFA, as always. Comments, R&R, are welcomed.
(I don't wish to remain writing the same standard of drivel all my life)


 She says she understands.
Dismissing others so carelessly seeming.
Her emotions are calm and bland.

 There is no sense of sympathy,
Or even empathy.
Such is the capacity lacking.
What is it that is flawed? Is something missing?
There are no dreams; no lingering desires remain.

 Her self, corrupted by a responsibility to her bonds.
Undergoes a lifetime of experiences
Finding at the end of its journey
Salvation in logical understanding possessed all along

 Acceptance, reconciliation;
 Guilt laid finally to rest
She does not care.

Slowly, surely, with familiar and practiced movements, her fingers roam her face once again. This time they push gently against the skin, prodding, nudging. Her face still remains. But she feels it; the tiny fractures that lie beneath the skin, the muscles, the bones. Her fingers continue to move, lazily distractedly at times, skittering across the surface at others.

Then just as abruptly as how the panic had spilled forth from her, her movements still. But only for a while, just to find her persona and slip it on. It is her, and at times, she is it. she is the Mad Hatter, the one who borders on insanity, and crosses it.

She is the Mad Hatter more than anything else. Her laughter echoes as her screams do. She cries not, but her cheeks always bear the marks of tears. She surrounds herself with a web of lies; she herself is a lie. But since each lie has a grain of truth, and since everyone believes the lie that is her, she is true.

She is the Mad March Hare; the Mad Hatter. Her laughter is empty, and so is she.
The burden shall always be carried by those left behind. Always.

To be left behind...

I do not want to be the last. I do not want to become the end. There is no more going forward. I shall forever be held in stasis; stagnating, remaining in my land of memories.

Unchanging, unmoving. Lifeless to the outside world.

Lying to myself; shielding my eyes, covering my ears. Forever shall I shut myself away from the world.

Begone, I say to reality, for harsh is your touch, and cold is your gaze. Do not come near me, for I have no love for you. I would rather dwell in my dreams, false they may be.

Every lie has a grain of truth. My castle of air is built upon a whisper of the past, a draft from my memories.

The burdened shall always be those who have been left behind.
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