addicted-withdrawal

(narrator: undefined)
~

insomniac thoughts are what
keep me awake during
pitch-black periods of
nightly ghosts dreams.

‘take a damn pill!’ you’d
answer with harsh
words while you’d
mock me when i’d
answer with supple
simple verbs:

‘i’m in withdrawal’

whereas the fucking
difference when you
carved into your forehead that
you were ‘addicted!’
only not to,
the same drug.

hence, the
insomniac thoughts that
keep me awake during
pitch-black periods of
nightly ghosts dreams
where you’d appear
and plunge a small
red pill down my throat
masking it as
love.

and you’re still fucking
‘addicted!’ to
a damn pill,
only not to,
the same drug.
~


(12/02/09 – yes, yes i know. i’m full of work and imagination is still very mellow. one day, yeah, sure, something new…)

draco malfoy.

(narrator: hermione granger)

Direct and cunning, aiming towards a goal!

Resourceful when using his hands, bringing a girl into a foul!

Always straight with his witty words and penetrating stare!

Can a boy this dark, be such a god towards ingenuity?

Or is all his charm strictly fueled by annoying immaturity?

Man or no man, sex is always around the corner!

A girl can simply smell his cologne and turn into butter!

Laughing sarcastically, as he infuriates those around him,

For some, he has nothing but arrogant lines and untrusting whim!

Oh Draco! How can you inflame such ache inside me?

You’re all but a nice bigot and yet, everything about you flames profoundly!

(i had so much fun writing this!)

murderer.

(narrator: Cinza)

hollow [blue] eyes look over the
wasted pavement full of roses,
where some of his friends
lay in vague hopeless
under six feet down.

blue [hollow] eyes search the gray
sky up above,
filled with blank clouds,
where some of his friends
dream in vague demeanor
six feet up his head.

whispering voices chant near
his uptight ears,
pulling him to
the imaginary field
of vague absolution – redemption.
‘what have you done?’

‘what did you do?’

mind bobbling images
appear near his bright blue
[hollow] eyes,
blocking the view,

- red, blood, red -

where some of his friends
still vaguely sound.

‘murderer!’
sharp knives to his slim,
pale chest,
aiming for his still beating heart,
aiming for his pathetic
excuse for existence.

‘breathtaking murderer!’

such beautiful hollow
[blue] eyes,
are now filled with
cold, bright tears, vaguely
remembering the
sound of his friends laughter.