Flower Child

Brunei Blogger May Cho, hibiscus, tumblr, color, experimental, ,80s, vintageBrunei Blogger May Cho, hibiscus, tumblr, color, experimental, ,80s, vintage, flower
Musings is a series of creative, experimental expositions of ideas, observations or thoughts with a specific focus on fictionalizing reality and visual writing, using style as visual accompaniment. Style takes secondary focus in Musings.

My heart is withering like a wrinkly, old prune and I feel it dropping out of me. It is ugly and heavy, a shriveled up boulder. It falls on dead lilacs, dried lilacs. This I write with ink of rose cataracts. Dumb lilacs.

I watch the evening devoid of carbon and devoid of oxide. I have become a decaying carcass. The night sky is infinite and dotted and dashed and the dandelions are feathery and whisper-y and dance-y. They speak to me through the breeze -- it is the only way to speak to a blinded, deafened, deadened carcass. 

I feel on my skin their quiet little kisses. Ballerinas. They tiptoe through starlight in their slender, silky way. Every dried up crevice and drooping cranny on my body can feel it and I am filled with an incomprehension I do not want mollified. It is gentle. Calm. Soft, but an almost painful kind of soft. It is a pas de deux on the slopes of the breeze, and through my division, I feel an unexpected tug. 

No longer dead lilacs, dumb lilacs, though I still write from rose cataracts. I now paint with my crushed flower heart -- rose red, violet and ivy green, hazel. Colorful carcass of a flower child raised.

Monthly Merits: September

Brunei Style Blogger and Haus von Jimmy R Brand Ambassador May Cho at Big Bwn Street Fest
September was the salvation of a bone-dry pen whose ink had spilled a cathartic void of tangled screams. September saw the pen tamed to write once more, and here it is, finally -- ready to speak.

It's been all about keeping myself busy, busy, busy for the past two months, and though I believe I have succeeded, I think have also over-tired myself. I over-estimated the amount of work I thought I could handle. I suffer from the consequence with blue-black underneath my eyes, blood streams filled with caffeine and a war waged on my immune system.

There aren't much merits during the past two months, but I have been dabbling a lot into things I'd never have thought I'd have if not for a chain of events that lead me to a constant yearn to keep my hands fiddling and my mind occupied. It's been interesting, September, kind and quiet sister of August the tempest.

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