the Broken

i say, the way you move just takes my breath away. Sarah, i love you forever..

broken glass and faded photographs littered the carpeted floor of an empty apartment. The door was left ajar, as if memories left inside it was deemed worthless, when the guy left.

Sobs of grief came from a room hidden behind the wall of the living room, but there was no guardian angel for this one broken heart. Misery was left amok and fallen tears burned at the good times they had. Most girls could recover in time, but not this girl. Devil's touches had grimmed her spiralling emotions, blacken her pure heart in its core, and loneliness that accompanied the devil swept the room, driving away a young girl's sanity deep into the void she was left with when he left. All this, still could be saved by angels of mercy, but the heaven today seemed a terribly cold stone that laid unmoved by mortally blues..

A black day when a pure heart turned into a crazed core of hollowness that howled like a hungry wolf and a beauty with vicious eyes and intentions unpure. She stood up with a sinister smile, a broken heart and yet step by step, only angst compelled her on. The walking of a broken.

the Vacuums

It was night time in the city of Tokyo. It is now infamous for all its purple coloured and rated entertainment that burns the eyes of some and also burned the hearts of many passionate hot bloods. To many men wandering the streets, hoping to earn the extra buck so as to survive in an urban jungle, they emptied their conscience at the workplace they go and emptied their values for the sake of a moment's pleasure and quick cash to live a luxurious life.

Girls after girls are tricked into acts of monstrousities in the promise of fame, blackmails, safety and many cooked up garbage served by empty hollows for eyes in those ugly humans. They even raise girls for these acts of immorality..

The city of Tokyo sparkled with colours in the night, lit by beautiful neons and fluorescents but the heart of Tokyo was ailing due to its monsters for people. Day by day, night by night, monsters resembling vacuums, suck the life out of Tokyo, leaving behind crushed hopes, innocent victims and emptiness never seen before.

the Fallen

curtains of despondent eyelids closed shut and with that, a boy with closed eyes felt weightless and helplessness.

"bam!" The back of the skull got a blow that knocked the life out of him. Surprised by the feeling of euphoria instead of good old pain, the boy got up immediately, but he felt no obligations to fulfill, unlike a moment ago when he was being undone by a cocktail of lack of sleep and fever and a bout of flu. Getting up, he felt no pain at the back of his head, nor the weak limbs that could barely hold him. He felt normal, just not normal enough. He looked back with a thick haze in his thoughts, only to see the other him lying on the ground, motionless, blood puddles forming around his cracked norgent.

Concerned by this quirky sight that never he thought was possible, he reached out for the unconscious him, but he never got to touch the physical him on the ground. It seemed that relative distance had separated them worlds apart and now they reject one another. Death was a consequence that stung his heart, but he paid no attention to it. Instead, he thought of happenings that could explain the quirk going on.

Perhaps he was sleeping in his house, having this really horrible nightmare that some dude crocked up. Perhaps he was just knocked out.

Either ways, he couldn't wake up from his fantasy world, but somehow it worried him less than he thought it would. In fact, he liked to feel no pain. No obligations. No responsibilities. No datelines. No boundaries.

A dream of a philosopher

it was a day in a year, a year in the years of existence and it should be a normal one too, for most days were. in a graveyard, on a slab before a nameless tombstone, a rose laid, ignoring small bouts of gusts in the ground which gathered brown leaves into the autumn's brink.

when a person has nothing to lose, he can think more clearly, more objectively, but at the same time, he will feel that emptiness that accompanies this freedom can be damning. the railway tracks behind the small open gate of a fenced dead land laid bare before him, stretching beyond the point where the eye could see. he walked without a thought of reason but that of a wanderer, and never really knew where he was heading, or whether the conclusion would be a change he wanted. it was just a step and another step and a few stops of wander along the way.

A desolate man walked with a relunctance to accept his calling for he wanted to hold on to the past, memories of a rose, a girl, lost love and many things that took away, when they got hurled into the gusts of forgettedness, the best of the person he was.

The graveyard of roses

the withered remains of once petaled roses scattered all over the ivory tiles in a small town called Mosaic. The road beside it, unlike the city streets, was empty as the town was drained.

Years and years have eroded away the fragile community of a laidback town and many young men have lost their passionate roses for the imaginary honours greenback, that cities with distinguished names had, promised.

a french town without love, only greed. it is already happening.