Whispers of december: Bitter taste of snow

Posted in Whispers of December by cruela de vil on December 13, 2009

Its freezing. The days turned to nights and the nights extended its arms. Outstretched. Why do I keep failing to seek the North Star?

The faith is strong. Yet the soul is feeble. I stumble upon every word and yet he didn’t even noticed that I stuttered. Or did he never even cared to notice. Drenched in my own blood, I walked upon the snowy pavement. Head down, staring at my sole. Bare flesh, the coldness of the snow penetrates my weak heart. Its icy feel tears me apart slowly like a needle gradually penetrating my skin. I could feel it prick me. And I couldn’t stop it.


“You’re fucking drunk again,” says my alter-ego. She smelled my barley cologne and that sour scent of puke. I flushed the toilet and watched my personal soup mix altogether and mash down the drain. Yuck. But it gave me a sense of release.

My feet dragged me up the stairs. Damn it. Why does it feel like forever to climb these? A two-floor house of 5 feet people, there’s no need for higher ceilings and yet it took me a lifetime to reach my room. Is there an earthquake? Why are the walling dancing? There is silence yet I couldn’t hear it.

Quickly, I stripped my black skinny jeans. I unbottoned and unzipped. Pulled my black, low neckline, sleeveless shirt. I pulled my day’s shirt and shorts. Cuddled my soft pillow. And dosed off. Or am I fast asleep?

I could hear the wind play with my curtain. I feel its tail tickling my toes. I sensed my cellphone vibrating. Silence. When will you arrive in my senses?

It is dark yet I see a face. Actually, faces. And they’re nearing. My ghosts are back. Haunting.

I tried to forget. This is why I ended up with the wrong company tonight. I stared at the liquor of golden richness. The dance floor’s lit up. The crowd huddled up. Except me.

I caressed my pillow gently. I love to feel its silky smoothness before I ride sandman’s dream. I felt it breathing. It hardened. I sensed a sudden leap of muscle beating in a familiar tone. My ghost.