raking maple leaves off the sidewalk

Stilleto strapped and mascara laden scanty words
Provocatively stick out their scarlet tongues And
gyrate to the swinging beat of my undecided
desires. They
tease and entertain but
leave As fleetingly as they arrive.Ever-Ready to
straddle yet another lap,
Whisper lacy vowels to another
ear And devour desires
Lavishly and lasciviously As
you do.

I must not let these

satin sheets
sheath me from reality but it is too
easy to
go down in those dense Indian ink eyes and
precariously cavernous lips.That
smooth tongue that exhales
longing goodbyes and butters
necks ever too often.

I must not
Fall for your

Glittered, glazed
Gravity.

:)

It is this,
This
Haunting
Heat
And
Your
Frantic
Feet
Dancing
To this
Erotic
Exotic
Brazilian
Beat.
This.
Cathartic
Concoction.
This.
Impeccable
Inoculation of
Inhibitions
When
You press your body against mine; fluid in the unflinching drop of beats and the mobilization and eviction of our consciences capturing and releasing of hips and hands
Conquering and re-conquering
This
Crime Scene.

touch down

We need a cat

No, we don’t. we have enough on our plate as it is.

But mum, okay.we’re like a married couple right…

Silence

So, just like married couples find that they think twice about getting a divorce cos of their kids, we’d do the same if we had a cat!

But we’re not getting a divorce , Farah. (irritated)

Yeah but I’m just saying. It might be good for you and I. There isn’t enough love man. WE need more LOVE in our home. C’mon. Ill take care of it. Please?

Stop pestering me Farah. I said NO.

But muuuuumm Im LONELY. I want a cat to keep me company.

Silence

Fine. Be that way. I wont get a cat. I’ll get a boyfriend instead.

Good. Let me know when you do.

Tsk. But MUM. Its .. its.. its easier to get a cat than a boyfriend.



And theyre so much easier to handle and feed.



Ohmygod. I’m a spinster in the making.



I want a cat and not a man.And, and , and I’m looking for love in a CAT



OHMYGAWD MUM. IM A SPINSTER. MUM! MUM!



WHY ARENT YOU ANSWERING ME!



Tsk. You see. THIS is why



we need a cat.



Mum?

ressurection

How do you ressurect a blog that has been so dead you feel the posts were written by an entirely different person?

You can't just blow the dust off of it, pen down a new date, rip out discoloured pages and start anew.

Or can you?

Perhaps i could mutter incantations and do a naked moondance ritual when night falls and then use my magic marker to draw a new page, a new design and a new blog for my new life.

Yes.

Now, that sounds like a plan.

You

You and your unfamiliar ways,
making waves,
burning days,
and paving ways.
Away.

It hurts to remember who you were,
what we were
when all that remains is a frayed
thread of what once was.

You say you dont know who i am anymore and all you see are glimpses of a person you knew before.
Let me tell you it hurts too much for me to even think about the person you were because it reminds me yet again of what you are now.

coined in the shower

Tossed sheets,

coffee stains

and hurriedly drawn curtains

that whisper last night's

secrets to passerbyes.

-

Cigarette ash secrets that

carelessly fluttered

away from our crashing, twisting limbs

and perused the contoures

of

your

flesh

on

my

flesh.

-

Secrets that spied

in crevices

we

dented

(un)dented

(in)dented

and

(re)dented

as

we reinvented karma - oh karma

fucking

sutra.

-

Sectrets precariously

perched peeked

as we peeled,

pressed,

pushed,

pumped

and

pleaded.

Pleased.

parched

Haiku for tchu

I cannot mark this

cannot cannot cannot mark

this without coffee.

Amidst marking, freeeeezing my tukhesh underneath the aircon vent,

spilling teh tarik all over my work desk,

sitting in for lessons,

and surfing the net

while listening to beyonce, britney and lady gaga

there is a growing burning in

my gut.

It could just be the sudden enslaught of gastric.

In fact, that probably is what it is.

I.

Hate.

This.

Anticipation.

This.

Incapacity.

This.

Incipidity.

Incipidaciousness?

I.

Hate.

Shit.

I.

Have.

A.

Class.

To.

Teach.

Now.

Mr suave

Words don't drip drip drip

for my heart that goes dup dup dup

when my phone goes beep beep beep

as your heels go click click click

cubicle

Im driving myself crazy in this cubicle.

Today, i woke up feeling fantastically, ridiculously happy. So i decided i'll challenge myelf - to stay this happy till 3 pm when i stop work. double double periods. *shivers*

I'll get through it. Itll just take a lot more patience and caffeine than i expected.

Meanwhile, the prospect of doing this for the next 4 months isnt very encouraging. Im driving myself crazy. Wonder how my students are actually coping with me. Lord knows i dont want to know.

My appologies for a very uninspired post. Just the fruit of my boredom and claustrophobia really. There is only so much facebooking you can do in one day. And refreshing my hotmail inbox has proven itself even more of a pain.

Conundrum: Analyze this or New York New york - i brought the two movies to work. Not because im a horrible worker who is skiving but because my timetable is plain ridiculous. There are days where i have only two lessons. but theyre 6 painful hours apart. Im talking major psychological damage. My braincells are being obliterated like the remnants of hope that i have of actually triumphing today. Hence the need for entertainment. Sigh.


All this complaining is not helping.


Moving on to brighter things. Drama :) We're working on two peices. One is a play written by Alfian Saat and another is a device piece that we're still working on adapted from Kwan loh's Fast cars and fancy women. Sexcitement much.

Oh and a wonderful colleague introduced me to the website brokenpicturetelephone.com
.I recommend it to anyone without a life. Join it. Im having soo much fun.

Akbar's farewell thingy lastnight. I cant beleive he is leaving already :(

Its amazing how close we all got over sucha short period of time. Goes to show that if you really invest time and effort, friendships can blossom so wonderfully fast. Makes me feel guilty for not caring more for friendships that really mean the world to me.


Anyway, i should probably start planning next next week's lessons. See ya when i do pussycats :)

Much love,

farah

Maybe cos i cant take the blame. Perhaps, its cos i wont.

Sometimes i want to take you and hold you an arm lengths away
and then hurl all the words i'd soon never mean to say
and hope and pray that it'll dent that shiny exterior of charming perfection. I just want you to fall off the wall one day and break into a million peices just so that I can put you back together again. I want you to know that i want to feel like you are dispensable and replacable yet i cant feel that security and i hate it. I want to slap you so hard, slam you against the nearest wall or just shake you out of there. I want to see you naked in front of me the way you once were and know for sure that what im seeing is real. I want you to realise that sometimes i am so ready to walk away from you and the only thing holding me back is either the knowledge or the hope that you wont survive without me.
More often, i just want to hold you and hug you and tell you that i miss my friend.
More than that, i wish i could just tell you instead of hoping the right pair of eyes are reading this right now.

Of course, if all else fails i could staple your eyelids to your towering cheekbones and your brow so that you have no choice but to finally see. And when you are ready to come out from this foreign exterior, ill hold out my arms and finally be happy.
And i know this sounds childish, dont bother asking me if this is about you because "you would just know".
Strangely enough, more than just childish, that sounds a lot like you.

Shook It All Night Long

Ive got my mojo back.

Its BACK.

BACK

BACK

BACK with a blood curdling BANG :)

hee.

Moving on from the previous post, im apparently in a better state. But hey like i said, there are up days and down days.

Meanwhile, to that special friend out there.

I hope things clear up.

I know it sounds impossible now, but things always clear up.

And till then, ill help you see and feel and i dont want you to ever forget

that im here.

Me, your simple freind, with no perogative

except to make you smile and laugh the way

you used to a long, long time ago.

And to another special friend,

happy, happy, happy

birthday.

Its your last teen year.

Enjoy it.

Then again, i know you'll always stay

as young and free as you always have been for the past

12 years that i've known you for.

And I'm sorry if i dont stop to ask if you are okay often enough.

Most of the times, you help me to see the bright side of my life

and you keep me happy and laughing practically 90percent of our time together,

i forget you get upset too.

Im always here to lift you up when youre down.

It really is you who is the balloon in this relationship.

A big yellow balloon that makes my heart soar

and fills my throat with helium and laughing gas :)

Till i see you little pink frogs on the other side,

Much love,

the girl with the mojo back ( after so damn long ).

farah :)

Innerdemons

Im just so freaking tired. I cant handle anymore. And i keep telling myself that i cant handle it anymore but then i pick myself up and i handle it. But im sick of falling and picking myself up. Im sick of this very unheatlhy cycle. Im sick of hurting. Im sick of crying. And most of all, im sick of hearing but not listening. I cannot listen anymore. My ears burn. And i dont mean metaphorically.They hurt and ring. And all i hear when i lie down to sleep, is your voice. Your voice that is saying sorry. Or your voice that is saying youre hurt. Or the voice that is comforting me. I cannot listen anymore. And the hardest part of today is hearing you say that you feel that you have noone. Because i hate to break it to you, the only one who has noone is ME. I dont even know who I am anymore because ive invested all of myself into becoming someone who is there for everyone but absent from herself - if that even makes sense.

And the ironic thing is, i know that in say 4 hours time, ill be back to being a rock. And you'll be there, being sweet and loving, watching television with me. When in reality, both of us are seeing the show rather than watching. We hear but we dont listen. I speak but i dont articulate. Because its too damn painful. And because noone would want to know. Because everybody has they're own set of bloody problems and they DEAL WITH IT.

Im so tired of dealing with youre problem. Im sick and tired. And the worst feeling is not the sick and tired part. Its the i cant beleive i feel sick and tired. Its the guilt of feeling selfish. Because you are never selfish. Youre so damn selfless. But Im not you. And that sucks. For both of us.

The worst part of everything is that the only people i talk to about this are my freinds and im starting to fear that they might think you are a schitzophrenic paranoid nut. Cause you arent. You are nothing like that.

Youre just understandably lonely
and understandably under a lot of pressure
and understandaby upset.
And you're lovely and sweet and kind and funny.

I just want to see that im understandably broken.But im not.


Lord, I need air.


Breathe Me - Sia