Flesh and bones

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I feel weird.

I didn't manage to sleep last night.

Ramblings
It was the voices both within and without. I had to balance so many things out. Money, time, petrol, sleeping space, friends, acquaintances.

Marketplace
It was the event last night.
Invitations to a hard to find place (nice tho') along Jalan Yap Kwan Seng. There was this FInlandia event, free booze, gay-o-rama men everywhere (for the 4 day gay May events startoff).
And a Jonathan Cheng show, followed by a Private Structure model show with tanned male muscular hunky doro handsome belong to TV faces Filipino models.
Yea ... its was fun but also depressing.
Even through the fun of watching guys lick shots off their bodies.

What is with me, that this shit depresses me.
A reminder what I could have become but is still looking in from the fringes of. Uncertain whether I want or should belong. What the Fuck! Is this 'my' community and what the hell am I feeling so ambivalent and divided about it!

Celebrities.
And yes, I did see some faces from the past, faces of some who are curreny celebrities. Were they hob nobbing, just having fun or mixing it all together - business and pleasure. This includes ex's as well.
So fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck

I can't articulate to right now, the quiet turmoil thats churning somewhere in the depths of my unsettled bowels.
Maybe when it passes ... when sleep embraces me again.

Strings attached
I can't move on and be 'beyond this' when there's a remainder of what what was and how it felt to be there before. How easy to return and have little qualms ... there's nothing wrong about it, I can't judge it, i've no sense ot perspective, real perspective on this.
But I can't.
It isn't really good for me.
There's so much of myself I didn't like.
Don't want to like.

Add more expletives here.
*&#@%$

I heard one positive thing today tho' courtesy of my friend, the director who sits behind me.
"If the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off"
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Prose
I have no reason to deny the coiling little lie that breeds and feeds on my insecurities. Living off the sights in my eyes, the sounds in my ears, the sick pittish feeling in my belly, it basks and radiates in lush fattening diet. It never grows too big, careful not to burst the host - some would call it parasitic but its strange to find out in soft and sudden realization that is symbiotic. I loathe the parts that I love.
Perhaps I should die, to starve it.
I can't die young when the tendrils still caress my rapidly aging insides. Youth was a luxury, a faded memory which my cells recall like yesterdays breakfast.
Its plush.
This corruption of mine.
Fat, disgustingly plush.
Leave me alone.