Rage

Turning a pair of half-drugged eyes towards them, I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. My ears felt as if the sun had nibbled on them. A waft of what felt like hot combustible air bursted through my nostrils as I exhaled, and when I inhaled, the air felt dry and dead.

I leapt at them with a bellow of rage, aiming one clawed fist at the throat of one of them. He didn't flinch, and that made me even angrier. I buried my nails at his throat and blood started to gush forth from the wounds. His bland look did not signify the severity of his condition, so I dug deeper, grabbed his neck bone, and yanked. Blood now spurted from the gaping wound.

His companions did not seem bothered at this, and it turned me into an insatiable anger. I grabbed a sword that had found its way near my feet, and with a blur that was too fast for a human eye to follow, I decapitated another one of them. I gave myself a wicked smile as the head thudded to the floor, and before the body had collapsed fully, I twirled to separate another head from its body. I danced with joy as I cut them open, making two things out of one.

It was exhilarating, and like fire that had been given fuel, I flared, dancing in chaos and utter glee. I was angry, but it made me feel better as I claimed these worthless lives. It fed my anger. It did not made it die. It wanted my rage to live, and my rage, in turn, fueled me to live.

It was not for vengeance. It was not for justice. It was not for my rage, my anger. It was for me. Long live myself.

Uncle Cracker

Bash.org, more fun than a barrel of drunken monkeys! It's a refreshing place to spend your productive hours. Cracks you up silly, try eet!

Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler!

I actually posted this at my friend's blog. Enjoy!

It's funny how some people turn into music, to find a song or two that fit the way they are feeling right now. I mean, I do that. I even put a part of the lyrics that best suits my mood as my messenger status, so everyone that knows the song and knows me, could click into me. And doing that makes me feel a little better.

But what if there are no songs that could speak up for me? One that I could really sink myself into and still be able to sing it loudly and so freely? Perhaps I should start writing my own songs.

Let's see if I could spontaneously spill my thoughts here... I've no rhythm or anything for it, yet, but here goes:

It always feels
Like I'm walking in the middle of a road
One traffic goes north
And the other goes south

I can't flip a coin
To let fate decide which side it would land
And I can't take a step
And I have no excuse for that

I'm just a wanderer
With great destinations in mind
But I've chained myself to the ground
And the ground is too heavy for me to lift

Would you be so kind to help me
Release me from this dead weight
Stab my heart and let it reincarnate
Or grab it and fuse it with yours

'Cos I can't fly when my wings are nailed
And time won't heal this wound
Only you, or I, could end this suffering
So would you be so kind to help me
Please

Bonksmeister Begins

I deleted my old blog, and made a new one. Now, all o' ya rejoice, dance with glee, and be readin' vigorously now, yarrr!