Sunny Windowpanes

Music: Submarine (Full Album) - Alex Turner
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0yA0Q1l2jo&list=PLkGaWn7zHZ8RahuElXJKt4W90Izt313aC
Time: 2:31 pm

I say this because I have been sitting here for years, my dear old friend wipes me down with a cool damp cloth every morning before opening up his shop at eight.
The morning sun basks me in his new born rays of love. A glowing affection is scattered from the point it penetrates the windowpanes and scatter into glittering golden cuts of fame.

Holding steady my sturdy legs as I prepare for duty.  As the the day commences I am granted with life again by a general recognition of my surroundings. I hold the weight of knowledge, of beauty, of sorrows and its inspiration. I am little appreciated, but the pure gift of existence, being assigned an insignificant role in the life of many overwhelm.  People accept me just as easily as they leave me, parting without a glance behind.  I thank them for taking their time, though most times it goes unnoticed that it was a sore will that allowed our fate to coincide.

Again, a sun through the window is my only stable companion.  Thin stripes of gold paint moving zebra stripes upon my rigid body. With our simple animation, we hypnotize birds and small insects to linger by our windows.

Downhill

Music: Candles - Daughters
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90mzH1kvznQ&feature=endscreen&NR=1
Time: 8:20om

Pit me in a vague darkness,
I love you like a broken chip of glass ,
cut clouds into abnormal shapes of deep solid cheese.
Everything seems to gallop past when a wait is under progress....
because nothing matters, only your object of desire is in focus.

Music act as background music, broken melodies are hummed off-tune.
Too tired to concentrate and too weary to write.
Black follicles slip out with a hair coated in thin jelly, and that is what everyone expects in trust.  Because trust can be broken and renewed, but it accumulates growth and filth with experience.
Candles burn with an earnest energy and wither to glowing dots of gold.
Cup my ears to a seashell and childish chant plays, rewinds and replays. "She sells seashells by the seashore..."
Aging is no sin, but being young you are too lovely to stay innocent.

Sleepy Bug

Music:A Walk - Tycho
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mehLx_Fjv_c
Time: 6:38pm

Sleepy bug crawls on the tip of your eyebrows,
Sleepy bug sits on the curve of your lips,
Sleep bug blinks with each waving breeze of your fluttering eyelashes.
Sleepy bug, web your hair lazily like an aged spider.
Sleepy bug hikes down your spine and takes a nap at the crossing of a vertebral column,
Sleepy bug, hungry, munches up some nerves.
Sleepy bug, thirsty, pierces the sole of your feet and draws thick blood.

Sleepy bug rubs against your leg lovingly.
You yawn.
As-fast-as-lightening-sleepy-bug-shoots-into-your-mouth-and-you-don't-even-notice.
Content, sleepy bug lies snug on the tender bed of your tongue, waiting for slumber.

Mango Slices

Music: 5 Years Time - Noah and the Whale 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8YCSJpF4g4
Time: 10:38am

On an ivory plate lies a thick slice of tropical mango, unpeeled. The skin is thin and depicts a paralyzed frame of a slow motion fire. The flesh of the fruit is a creamy tangerine. I cup the fruit in my hands and bring it up to eye-level. Having been kept in the fridge, the fruit had a layer of cold air hovering and shedding cold particles into its surroundings by the second.  My eyes were met with with a mango cold front and I blink to keep them from glazing over.
Lick my lips, open my jaws 50 degrees, saliva spurting a spa of enzymes, I enter a third of the mango into my mouth. Using only my front teeth I scrape a chunk of cold firm heaven from the mother piece.
I rotate the mango 30 degrees and repeat, again and again, until a cool limp piece of a two-coloured skin remain.

Purple Hallucination

 Music:C O O L - Le Youth
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbVux6XUtZY

Time:7:36 pm

It was from those eyes where all lights departed that gave me my first hopes of passion.

Almost obligated to love, I take out the cotton stuffing inside my heart and stitch it back with shaking hands. I spread the contents of my existence in an open concert of flying notes, the audience capture in them in a robotic frenzy and put it inside their ears. I turn around to face a boy, so expressionless and unconcerned to his surroundings.  I kiss him on the forehead then slowly blindfold him. He does not move, only twitching slightly to the deep thuds of music in the background.

 I wave my hands loose in the air, eyes closed. He does the same. I move my shoulders back and forth, he copies.  I bring my face close to his, and he kisses me. 

As our fingers entwine I start choking, it was not supposed to turn out like this. I clasp my free hand to my neck, an inward scream generates in desperation. My eyes widen as a fire starts to burn up from my lungs. A blackness hovers like death. The crowd in the distance cheers.

Don't surrender, don't surrender.

Rain

Music: "Apartment" In The Open Session - Young the Giant 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPUcP3k3CMY

Time:3:31pm
Rain feels good when it hits hard.
Rain sounds great when you are indoors, cuddled up to a cat, a lover or a thick book.
Rain tastes different depending on ones mood, and of course a different continent would each grow a flavour unique to the area.

I wonder what rain tastes like in Russia?

If I had to analyze the rain that fell from the sky at 3:02pm in Taipei today:

Texture: Glutinous, mushy
Colour: Gray and muddy
Temperature: Heated
Route: 63º Landing with the wind.
Mood: Nostalgic

Raw

Music:Work (Explicit) - Iggy Azalea
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zR6ROjoOX0
Time: 10:20 pm

Almost a fantasy.  I ride a roller coaster of trance with silver 
lights,flashing in and out. Fingertips run like currents of electricity 
over the surface of my arms. I raise them above my head and flower my 
fingers,deep humming bass deflower my senses with each pounding beat.
The music sways me from side to side, overturning me in a current where 
everything is azure. I sing along even though I don't hear myself
my vocals vibrate and I feel alive. Suddenly a girl with sleek black 
hair pull me close and whisper words into my ears. I smile at her and
she takes my hand. I caress her face and she grinds herself against the 
music.
The air smells slightly of smoke, mingled with anxiety, greed, lust, 
and peculiar disturbances.
The crowd slither over each other, hungry. 
I think if I canned them all right now they would make the best
Spanish canned seafood. The customers would open up to a raw herd 
of fresh meat.

A few hours the wave hits again.

Familiar Landscapes Behind

Music:Gymnopédie #1 (Eric Satie) - Liona Boyd 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXmCWXo9bpc

Time:1:30pm

Leaving a familiar landscape behind is always easy, so much adventure awaits.
But all becomes different when you are the one being left behind.

Every waiting lover, mother, sister, or friend would nod their head vigorously to this.
While an unknown path awaits a traveler, the rest of world wake up to a slightly different day every morning. But only just slightly. The foul smell of routine is the shared stink we give off from life.  The pity fragrance grows stronger with age. Some people scrub really hard at it with reality, some prefer to cover up by lavishing themselves with rich perfume, but most people just can't be bothered and grow used to the stench.  One theory is that if everybody smelt bad, there would be no means of telling who was worse than the other.
The travelers sport a fresh wind, it combs through their hair, sifts out the secular elements. Impurities behind.

Some nights

Song:Some nights - Fun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQkBeOisNM0

Time:6:00 pm

Folding up their voices into tiny droplets of summer, voices ring and the window panes vibrate almost willingly.  Some nights they sing, and someday they will come to realize THIS was the apple core of innocence and purity, that precise friction of a moment. Hands were held and laughter spilt, music was the magical ingredient.  Love was not understood at that stage in their lives, if any it was a vague concept of something extremely beautiful but very distant. Almost remote.  They would tilt back their heads and laugh, eyelashes tilted at the perfect angle for receiving light. And light they did receive.

  As all voices blended into one harmonious hum, their strong hearts pump hard against their young rib cages as if wanting to break free from a flow of green blood.

Thick and smooth as honey. I would even call it sweet. Because that's what young blood ripened in wholesome climates would give to the tongue. 

Lizard Life is Hard

Music: Get Lucky - Daft Punk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7VTByl6WqA&feature=share
Time:7:17pm

One giant paw pinned me to the ground.
My worst nightmare as I look up and see one furry white head to one side.  Oh curiosity, but my life depended on it this time, not his. As the cat put more weight on me I felt my heart beating into my thin cool skin.  Could it have been the tail I would have made my lucky escape, but no, he had me full on.

Sniff sniff

Suddenly the pressure was off, and blood rushed so quickly to my head I stood there dizzy like as sun-drunk snail. And then before I could barge me legs to run the paw was brought back down on me, hard. It held tighter this time.
I thought I was going to have my eyeballs squeezed out. The cat brought his head down to give me a soft gnaw on the head.  His breath absolutely disgusting I nearly fainted. I gave a startled scream that came out as a loud squawk. Startled, the cat jumped back. This time I ran as fast as I could for the bushes, flapping my four legs  back and forth with ridiculous speed.  I made proud progress but the cat was faster, with one leap he landed an inch away from me, this huge monster that blocked the sun, my light of freedom. Flicking his tail this way and that, he eyed me again with these menacing green slits of evil.

The ground shook slightly as a human girl approached, black Jansport slung over one shoulder. Swift as lightening she stooped down and cupped me between her two warm hands.  The cat scowled, the girl smiled. She eyed me carefully, took out a white square machine and pointed a lens at my startled face.

snap.