Yes one dose of you
Will have me addicted
And I know what you have been through
For me
And they say
I'm a slut
I'm a whore
I'm a freak
I got a different guy everyday of the week
You are too smart
And you would be a dummy to believe
That stuff that you heard that they say about me
Its only been 5 months
And i already got it bad
So hood that i keep on comin back
My ex-friends tellin me i dont know how to act
but im tellin them
" bye! fall back..."
So when i had a good girl
She didnt do that much for me
Tried so hard but she could never be
The one for me
I can hear your call
It jus takes one call
And I'll come running,
Boy i promise i will be there for you
All my heart it belongs to you
I cant lose you, boy
I just cant leave you alone
They say
You are gay
You are trouble
And we are a mistake
We ain't gonna have a future
And we ain't gonna have kids
I will be discriminated in Uni.
Find somebody else
So what?
So what?
So what?
Some people don't like it
Coz we hang out in the streets
But you're my boyfriend
You've always been here for me
This love is serious
No matter what people think
I'm gonna be here for ya
And I don't care what they say
SO WHAT?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Lets be friends
Let's be friends.
(I want you to stay around so I can tell you in excruciating detail about all the other men I meet and have fun with. Bragging is great for my ego)
(I want you to stay around so I can tell you in excruciating detail about all the other men I meet and have fun with. Bragging is great for my ego)
Tantric
As heard on Saturday night at Tantric
10. I think of you as a friend/brother/sister.
Translation: You're ugly.
9. There's a slight difference in our ages.
Translation: You're ugly.
8. I'm not attracted to you in 'that' way.
Translation: You're ugly.
7. My life is too complicated right now.
Translation: You're ugly.
6. I've got a boyfriend/husband/wife.
Translation: You're ugly.
5. I don't date men in the same industry.
Translation: You're ugly.
4. It's not you, it's me.
Translation: You're ugly.
3. I'm concentrating on my career.
Translation: You're ugly.
2. I'm celibate.
Translation: You're ugly.
1. Let's just be friends.
Translation: You're sinfully ugly.
10. I think of you as a friend/brother/sister.
Translation: You're ugly.
9. There's a slight difference in our ages.
Translation: You're ugly.
8. I'm not attracted to you in 'that' way.
Translation: You're ugly.
7. My life is too complicated right now.
Translation: You're ugly.
6. I've got a boyfriend/husband/wife.
Translation: You're ugly.
5. I don't date men in the same industry.
Translation: You're ugly.
4. It's not you, it's me.
Translation: You're ugly.
3. I'm concentrating on my career.
Translation: You're ugly.
2. I'm celibate.
Translation: You're ugly.
1. Let's just be friends.
Translation: You're sinfully ugly.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
hmm
"From the pain I guess. The pain inflicted by him?If you get punched over and over and over again,battered downuntil you can't feel it anymore."
Apathy
Apathy
prayer
God Bless My Weary Heart and Tired Eyes from All The All-Nighters.
Give me the strength to party on and bless me with beautiful skin.
Amen.
Give me the strength to party on and bless me with beautiful skin.
Amen.
Part time lover
am i being too cautious now?
so says the objectives.
then again, i wish all the other voices would shut up
and let me decide for myself.
anyhow.
you're only going to Vietnam and subsequently UK
i should not miss you.
i should not love you.
what the fuck is wrong with me?
i wish i was your part-time lover.
i wish you had a full-time boyfriend
and i was the vixen on the sly.
terrible thoughts yes.
but at least i know
the vixen on the sly
would occupy your mind most times.
and you wouldn't have to hide anything from me even if you had to.
i want to know you're missing because you're with your boyfriend. i want to know that the ugly me is capable enough to bewitch you from your hot boy. i want to know that when you're not with him, you're with me.
i don't like this volatility. i don't like all this mystery. and i detest my insecurities.
i want to be your part-time lover.
so says the objectives.
then again, i wish all the other voices would shut up
and let me decide for myself.
anyhow.
you're only going to Vietnam and subsequently UK
i should not miss you.
i should not love you.
what the fuck is wrong with me?
i wish i was your part-time lover.
i wish you had a full-time boyfriend
and i was the vixen on the sly.
terrible thoughts yes.
but at least i know
the vixen on the sly
would occupy your mind most times.
and you wouldn't have to hide anything from me even if you had to.
i want to know you're missing because you're with your boyfriend. i want to know that the ugly me is capable enough to bewitch you from your hot boy. i want to know that when you're not with him, you're with me.
i don't like this volatility. i don't like all this mystery. and i detest my insecurities.
i want to be your part-time lover.
I Wish
I finally understand now when they say the taste of love is always bittersweet. In fact, it has just dawned upon me that most people actually first taste real love between the ages of 17 to 20. In case I may be seen as an overgeneralist, I must reiterate - most.
Then it makes me wonder, the old greying man at the local dirty coffee shop, the hunched little old lady collecting damp cardboard boxes in the dark dingy corners of forgotten streets. Did they too experience first love?
As a nubling, a young innocent thing, coming of age and falling into the depths of emotions for the very first time.I've thought all there is to be thought of you, said all there is to be said. I realise there isn't much to remember. Or rather, memories are like tape reels. Limited in supply and prone to fail. I realise I can't seem to remember as much as I want to. Perhaps. Memories are limited. There aren't as many as you think there exists.
My best take is that you jot down what you want to remember. Before it all goes away, drowning in the murky depths of time. As well as the hustle and bustle of daily life.I hope I remember you. I know I will for sure. And then there's an abrupt stop. The tape reel ends. My life with you continues so far. And no further.Just as abruptly as it began, it abruptly ended.
Right now, I'll be frank. I don't think you're mature enough to continue this. Or rather, I just don't think you're mature enough. You may think the same for me. But at least, I can tell, cynically or not, or see, the bigger picture. And I hope one day you will.Stop drinking and smoking, lift your burdens and let your heart open again.
Right now, I am afraid. Not because of losing the past. Because the past will always be kept in a secret box, locked in my head and my heart.
This is scary. I don't want to love anyone. I don't want to make myself feel this way. This insecurity. This want. It's as if I want to own you. For myself. Jealously. Selfishly. And for no one else.
I don't like me like that. No, not at all.I try very hard. Very hard. To defend you from others, in my head. Feebly I try, in reality. But no one really believes me. It's hard when the whole world's against you. And I should know that for a fact myself. And I really want to be with you. To refute everyone. To say, "No! That's not true!" But how can I when I don't really know who you are myself anyway?
Maybe I do. Maybe I would have.
If there weren't other voices. But I'm trying. But I am scared. What if I'm trying for nothing? Trying for something that isn't even there? That doesn't even exist?Why the fuck would I want to subject myself to this?You're the kind of guy I can foresee other guys snagging.
The kind of guy I would have such trivial, trifling problems with.
I hate myself.
I hate such affairs.
Small, petty, insignificant.
The rational me would say, here, -dangles a carrot-, you like it, you can have it.
I don't really care.
But then,I find myself jealously guarding what I think I have.
Such jealously is dangerous.Such hypothesy is dangerous.
I wish I could untangle myself from this mess.
Then it makes me wonder, the old greying man at the local dirty coffee shop, the hunched little old lady collecting damp cardboard boxes in the dark dingy corners of forgotten streets. Did they too experience first love?
As a nubling, a young innocent thing, coming of age and falling into the depths of emotions for the very first time.I've thought all there is to be thought of you, said all there is to be said. I realise there isn't much to remember. Or rather, memories are like tape reels. Limited in supply and prone to fail. I realise I can't seem to remember as much as I want to. Perhaps. Memories are limited. There aren't as many as you think there exists.
My best take is that you jot down what you want to remember. Before it all goes away, drowning in the murky depths of time. As well as the hustle and bustle of daily life.I hope I remember you. I know I will for sure. And then there's an abrupt stop. The tape reel ends. My life with you continues so far. And no further.Just as abruptly as it began, it abruptly ended.
Right now, I'll be frank. I don't think you're mature enough to continue this. Or rather, I just don't think you're mature enough. You may think the same for me. But at least, I can tell, cynically or not, or see, the bigger picture. And I hope one day you will.Stop drinking and smoking, lift your burdens and let your heart open again.
Right now, I am afraid. Not because of losing the past. Because the past will always be kept in a secret box, locked in my head and my heart.
This is scary. I don't want to love anyone. I don't want to make myself feel this way. This insecurity. This want. It's as if I want to own you. For myself. Jealously. Selfishly. And for no one else.
I don't like me like that. No, not at all.I try very hard. Very hard. To defend you from others, in my head. Feebly I try, in reality. But no one really believes me. It's hard when the whole world's against you. And I should know that for a fact myself. And I really want to be with you. To refute everyone. To say, "No! That's not true!" But how can I when I don't really know who you are myself anyway?
Maybe I do. Maybe I would have.
If there weren't other voices. But I'm trying. But I am scared. What if I'm trying for nothing? Trying for something that isn't even there? That doesn't even exist?Why the fuck would I want to subject myself to this?You're the kind of guy I can foresee other guys snagging.
The kind of guy I would have such trivial, trifling problems with.
I hate myself.
I hate such affairs.
Small, petty, insignificant.
The rational me would say, here, -dangles a carrot-, you like it, you can have it.
I don't really care.
But then,I find myself jealously guarding what I think I have.
Such jealously is dangerous.Such hypothesy is dangerous.
I wish I could untangle myself from this mess.
What is left?
so it all happened
and now it's all beginning.
i wonder,
or is it?
i changed my address.
so i may start afresh.
or does it work this way at all?
the closeness.
the nearness.
i am undeniably attracted to you
for superficial reasons i presume
i wasn't
in the first place
but now i feel so
each time i look at you, each time i stare at you and into
your cute little brown eyes
that sense of attachment
slowly but surely beginning to form
i could tell you
i love you
but deep down
i am unsure
i am insecure yes
do you love me too?
i see signs that tell otherwise
and your friends tell me too
but of course
i follow my heart
eventually
the passion in the car
i feel the heat
and all that warmth
and at the end of it all
when it all ends
when i walk out
simultaneously
after it all
tell me
What is left?
and now it's all beginning.
i wonder,
or is it?
i changed my address.
so i may start afresh.
or does it work this way at all?
the closeness.
the nearness.
i am undeniably attracted to you
for superficial reasons i presume
i wasn't
in the first place
but now i feel so
each time i look at you, each time i stare at you and into
your cute little brown eyes
that sense of attachment
slowly but surely beginning to form
i could tell you
i love you
but deep down
i am unsure
i am insecure yes
do you love me too?
i see signs that tell otherwise
and your friends tell me too
but of course
i follow my heart
eventually
the passion in the car
i feel the heat
and all that warmth
and at the end of it all
when it all ends
when i walk out
simultaneously
after it all
tell me
What is left?
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