Veins made of wire
Heart out of stone.
Bent out of shape
reaping what was sown.

Split Screen Productions presents The Incredulous Adventures of Bobby Darling. In today's episode, our hero has been elected to become The Toastmaster of the Day, (Toot Todo Toot!) thus upgrading his skills a level higher. (wooo!) Throughout the day he battles the onslaught of carbo-hungry monsters who attack in random fashion, trapping our hero in constant confusion tactics. Fortunately, they are too caught by surprise upon hearing his pellucid command of their tongue. Watch as Bobby fights the mundane-ness of the evil Boredor, with aid of the Popous Musicas from the neighbouring nations. Then, as our hero begins to cross his home stretch, in enters the bewitching Twilight Witch with her eyes black as night, rapturous smile and such a sweet sweet ass. (Damnnnn!) "Must stop staring...have to resist...have to reach home," Bobby struggles to maintain his rationality and his pet Tronky at bay. Sensing his resistance, she lets him escape in one piece, with just a warning of things to come. Thus concludes today's episode of The Incredulous Adventures of Bobby Darling. Will our hero succumb to the SunLord's powers? Will the SunLord's foreign disciple capture Bobby's mind? Or will he surrender to the Twilight Witch's charms? Can the Owl Princess save him from his solitude? Stay tuned.

...because truth is stranger than fiction.

i wish i was special
in your eyes and then
see our lives intertwine
as these two hearts mend
Fate has taken
her turn at best
now its just mine
to repair this aching mess
i can only preach those
things you now know
alas it is your time
to reap what you sow
alas, alas....

Furies Entwined by M. Rushdy

Love Taught Me To Lie
I hate being in front of the camera cos it never turns out good.
I hate being behind the camera cos i'm never in the picture.
I hate standing in the rain but love the chill it brings.
I hate to leave you alone but love to see you leave.
I hate making promises, the ones i cannot keep.
I hate running away but I do not want to stop.
I hate the sun's light for presentin you to me.
I hate saying these thoughtless words.
I hate it that i have to keep it inside.
I hate it that you don't give a damn.
I hate playing these foolish games.
I hate that I can't love you.
I hate it bcos I do.
I hate this.

2 Stories for a Night of 1

Creations adjust
Myth withstanding
Night of crime
Regret upon waking.

Begging and pleading
Mislay my trust
Won't I ever deserve
The sleep of the just?

Curse by M.Rushdy

I crawl. Every move I make burns my flesh. No! I have to reach her. I do not look back at my feet, wasn't sure if they were still there. The fever of pain screams and shrieks as I reach out my arms. Every second felt like hours. She doesn't move. Her head had faced the curb. I call out her name. She doesn't move. The ringing in my head hasn't stopped, neither has it reduced its torture. At the back of my mind, I see our parents, crying, blaming me. What have you done? What have I done? I call her. She doesn't move. I reach her fingers and wrapped them in mine. Cold, I wasn't sure if it was hers or my own. Her head had gone crimson, her blond hair black. I called out to her again. But a force pulls me away, away from my love. No, I plead, not yet! Not yet! I'm so sorry! Forgive me!

The Pain Not Mine by M.Rushdy

Heart Bleeds
Time will tell
Head Spins
Time will tell
Stomach Cringes
Time will tell
Hands Shiver
Time will tell
Body Quakes
Time will tell
They Turn Away
Time will tell
I Take The Step
Time.

I should start a hug campaign ;op

PhotoGirl

There once was a girl who never knew what she felt. Because of this she hid deep inside herself, not knowing how she would be judged by the people around her. Keeping mum to any question deemed too personal to comprehend. Always the quiet one, keeper of secrets. Everyone keeps saying how beautiful and unique she was. If she could only know this was true? But how, she asked, can I know? So she takes pictures, everytime she felt different to compare them at the day's end. After a month, she had a box. A year, a closet. And there it was...her journal of feelings. It was the only way she would know the truth about what she felt at the time.

There once came a boy who sat down beside her. And she needed that journal no longer.

I'm a fighter.
I'm the coward.
I'm a disowned child.
I'm the prodigal son.
I'm a hero.
I'm the arch nemesis.
I'm every little girl's dream.
I'm the 1 they warned U about.
I'm a character.
I'm the commentator.
I'm a greek god.
I'm Loki.
I'm ostentatious.
I'm unpretentious.
I'm a star.
I'm the fan.
I'm everywhere.
I'm nowhere.
I'm nobody.
I'm U.

Definitely Not Me by M.Rushdy

She waits, unwittingly imagining what could have been. They've been playing the game for too long even before it became serious. Teasing and hinting profusely, oblivious to the world beyond them both. But for every step she took forward, he took one back. And when he was the one who made the move, she only responded with hesitation. "Why?" is the question that rings in her mind.Was the chemistry not right? No, they were a perfect combination. Even her friends thought so. She could easily recall the time when they bickered over something so insignificant in front of Becky, her best girlfriend. "My God! You two argue so much, you sound married!" she said. A smile crept across her face, though only a short-lived one. Why then has their relationship come to such an edge, to a point of ultimatum. Here she is at the bus station awaiting a sign from the heavens. Isn't this how it works? Fate will wait for the last minute until when the bus pulls up for her to leave before he arrives, rescuing with hugs and kisses to a life happily ever after. Just like in the movies...
Seconds seem like hours. Everyone around her moves so slowly, seemingly punishing her for all the sins committed through her life. "It's better this way," that was what he said, before leaving her in tears on her porch swing. How can it be better? Weren't they in love? Or was it a simple infatuation?
The gate opens, female voice speaks, "Attention to all passengers..." She waits, frozen feet rooted, facing the large the large entrance to the station. The last call jerked her from solitude. She couldn't wait any longer, any more. Her steps were slow and unwilling, kept her looking over her shoulder. Eyes red and sore, she could not shed another tear.
As the bus horned into existence and out onto the road, her pale face planted to the glass, still focused, scanning the crowd for an invisible man. "It's better this way," resounded in her thoughts.
Minutes pass before he stands up from his seat. Cap worn low, covering the glitter of sadness in his eyes. With steady strides, he leaves into the night, regret with every step.

Fantastical by M. Rushdy

Dear void,
I am truly lost. No. I fear it is something much worse. Lost is when u become diverted from ur ultimate destination. As for me, i don't even know what my destination is, much less divert from it. It seems my destination, as bleak as it is, is tauntingly drifting further away towards oblivion until i, which i believe i undoubtedly will, snap. I keep walking and walking. The question as to where to, i personally do not have an answer. The past few weeks i've spent alone has been painfully reflective. Penetrating my vessel to my very soul. It's been a while since i wrote anything productive. Tonight is a good time to start again. At least before my coming absence in the next fortnight.
Ur master and ur slave,
Rush.

I walk the streets, emptied of human life. It feels like i have been walking forever. The lights from the street lamps seem to be locked in an eternal battle with the enveloping darkness of night. The lyrics to "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams" chime in my head like the bell in those ferries that grow irritatingly by the second while blinking 'Please Disembark' on the screen, which i personally believe that they might as well say 'Fuck Off The Boat' instead. The glass doors to the large stores that should open automatically in daylight just stares ignorantly as i passed in their closed state. I laugh at my self proclaimed unworthiness and keep on walking.
It has been 10 years since I started being a psychiatrist. Only I seem to notice the irony of the state I'm in. Me, a so-called mender of wounded souls, can't solve problems of my own. When i told my boss that i can't counsel any more, he just slapped me on the back, told me to suck it up. "Everyone has problems", he says. He's right about that. But now my eyes have been opened. I realise how man can be prone to inflicting pain to ourselves just to inversely gain a minute of self control over one's own mind and destiny. Now that is power. Those who claim holier-than-thou mock us of our 'weakness' but i've seen the truth. They themselves fear the temptation of giving in to the power. The only weak ones here are those who dare not see it as it is. Like what i've been all these years. But now its changed. I see life not in black and white but in full magnificent colour. I am alive.
She tugged at my sleeve, wakin me up to the dark reality. "Daddy, i'm tired of walkin. Let's go," she says. I picked up and sat her on my shoulder, nodding my head. I guess it is time to go. To where there is never an answer.

He lives in two lives, none of which is a lie. He is intertwined in fate's pleasure in seeing mere mortals' hopes perish with indignity. In one he is the wonder, the pride of his kind, suffering the turmoils of the real world, fighting against the future preset for him, written in the blood of his lineage. In the other he battles inner demons within the inner circle, infected through sins of man which threaten the lives of the ones he love the most. Truth and lies both mute and stab his already broken heart. He runs through both these lives with constant aNiMosiTy, praying for a miracle that can break its cycle. No escape. No safe haven. No justice. Just periods in limbo, away from his reponsibilities, in the curious rarity that they come along, can provide him peace. Cutting his veins, he pleads for a saviour only to be answered by a claustrophobic silence. He wonders, maybe what he searches for lies only in the darkness beyond. Maybe.

Religions, one too many.
Complications bound us all.
Constrictions, they confound me.
Slow our progress to a crawl.
Why do you do that?
Why do you plead?
There's nothing i can do now.
This is what i creed.
Heart is willing.
Mind is weak.
Go ahead.
Call me a freak.
So easy to love.
Yet hard to live by.
You are my Lord's answer.
So cute, you and your sigh.
Of course i want you here.
I will do stupid things.
Who do u want to blame?
The devil made me a jinx.

{The street lights pass as a blur, as i ride in my Porsche .8 spider. The winds of night brush my auburn hair into a mess, caressing my skin with moisture. I stare blankly at the empty road ahead. I could still smell her on my white cotton shirt, buttoned down to cool myself down. In fact, i could still see her, lying on her silk red sheets, glistening from head to toe of her sweat, sleeping so silently like a child, exhausted of all energy. They were always like that after. She didn't even tussle in bed when i left. She was special, this one. She looked a little bit like my first love. And yet, i know that in an hour i shall forget her, name and face completely wipes off my memory. It is better this way. The rest too were special in their own way, but still having nothing that would have pushed me to stay.
I tapped the pockets of my coat, feeling every content, making sure everything was there. I always made sure no trace of me had been left behind. It has become much like a routine. Alas, its a new day. Another mindless array of clients to settle at the office. There is that cute young intern to keep me company. But my father taught me never to mix business with pleasure. It is much too messy. I figured i would check out that new club the guys had kept buggin me to go to. I hear tonight's ladies night.}
Player by M. Rushdy

She comes in a dress of yellow, shining even in the light of dawn. Her movement, hurried, as though her life depended on her tardiness. My imagination flashed. Dress equates non-school associations. Ideas cropped up. Job? No. Playing hooky? No. Racial Harmony Day? Could be. I can only gaze as she passes, me unnoticed. She disappears as fast as her arrival. I could only whisper a hello, before ending my one sided greeting with a silent goodbye. My beloved friend, how I wished to again share a short company of u. Alas, a meeting would only stall u from the whirlwinds of your own life. However, the day was young. I spent the next 11 hrs at the theatre, performing passions of the uncouthed. As I walked home, I met a girl, common to me though we've never met. I had seen her many a times before. Awaiting the green man to light the way at the junction, she crosses my path a moment still in the red, as we crossed at the junction, brushing me a whiff of her scent. Artificial though, light chemicals from her shampoo or conditioner, I would never know. None the less, a treat to my tired senses. Its funny that people rush and lose what the simple things in life they had held dear before. By the way, tomorrow's a day to make or break. May god be with us.

Beauty, plagues me with rages
of insanity, putting my innocence in the line of fire, questioning my
identity of religious sanctions but alas, resist u i cannot. The more i
try to look away, the more i'm tested to turn again. She moves, uniform
in motion with her troupe, so intuned with the music u could have sworn
she wasn't a mere mortal. In my mind i crumble, bowing before the
majestic glow of this entity, much more of a goddess. I can only wait
like a stone on my seat to hide my shame of inferiority, drawing my
hands over my head, maintaining my composure. She puts up a smile,
stabbing my soul with agony. Lord, my heart is willing but my mind is
much to weak for this passage to happiness. Another hour of lust,
another day wasted. This is my world. Gd nite cretins. Sleep well.

{ Time, tender like a bruised heart. I sit by the ledge of my apartment balcony, 13 floors up, feet dangling in the night's breeze. Of course i could not feel the cold on my legs. I had never felt anything from my waist down since the accident. I never really grew bothered with everyone who said that it was a miracle i survived and i should be happy to be alive. I had stopped staring back at those who gaze at me with their beady eyes and simple minds when i pass them on my wheel-chair, as though i was a freak in a circus. The thought never crossed my mind to sue the bastard who had done this to me. The man had enough grief from seeing his pregnant wife in that twisted piece of shrapnel of which was his car. Its funny how death can wake up a drunk man to sanity. He did provide compensation though, as what our lawyers had decided upon. Well, actually, they were more my parents' lawyers than mine. I did not try to argue with my folks. Well, here i am, all alone. Girlfriend left me for some national swimmer. Said i was becoming a recluse and pushing her away.
"I lost my fuckin legs, bitch. Can't u understand," the last words i said to her. Well, she deserved better. Beautiful and talented, i wonder why she stuck with me for so long. Was it love, i don't know. But it is no matter now. The paramedics lift my body from the asphalt. Police were in my room, lookin of evidence of foulplay. Imbeciles. Can't even tell a simple suicide if it bit them in the leg. }
Top View by M.Rushdy

{ Thy sky was neon red against the cool air, moist from the torrentials. She appears from the corner, light of step swinging her hand against the wind's embrace. Like Helen, her smile could have begun a war. I sit, unattached from the world, like a stone. Her silhouette was focussed unlike the palette of shadows behind her. Voices around me muted away. I decided to make a move, realising if i did not, there would be no assurance of another opportunity like this. A thought flashed through my mind, wat do i say? If she replied, what could i do?
Bam! I crumble onto the cement. A ball bounces beside my aching head. I crawl onto my feet. "Boy, u alright?" "Yes.Yes." I glanced around. She was gone. A fever shot through my head less of pain but more of anguish. I dropped my body on the bed, feeling the hard springs under the sheets. I pulled my arm from behind my head, caught a familiar smell, stinging, as i faced the crimson stain on my palm. }
Day Dreams by M.Rushdy

"I shed a tear, crimson like my second skin." Matthew Murdock