Dear Frederick Wil Mc Nuggets,
You are such a compelling and thought-provoking character. I wonder if you know that. And while writing about you takes me to the wall in a voyeuristic rush, I just can’t seem to stop myself from actually reading and writing more about you.
Please don’t misunderstand.
I’m not sure how you feed your mind with frothing obscenity or frail sand bar.
How your brain secretly twists, turns and twists again and go cart-wheel.
Maybe you think I’m in deep shit hallucinating my way into barbecue skewers for always writing about love and romance as in ‘oh come on, don’t you have another life doing other fancy stuff?’
Perhaps you wonder why all of a sudden my WordPress website wardrobe is flooded with the glossy images of you, descriptions leading towards your silken and regal totality and obscurity or anything related with disgracing– the kind that’s skin crawling, bone marrow sucking and eye sweating dark chanting and deep delusions about you.
Matter of fact, I’ve got a bunch of precious things going on in my life from house makeover, food selling to babysitting to public speaking, self-studying to writing, reading and then soul-searching to rewriting and the list goes on.
I believe you are an artist in your own fantastic, peculiar and outlandish ways. The same way I feel about myself who have seen you in an all new different light particularly not part of the roygbiv family. 😂
I will not be second-guessing how I find pure inspiration in you. There is just something in your magnetism that keeps my eyes from closing. Inborn cataract around my lenses don’t prevent me from not seeing and seeking such a brilliant light in you plastered by your stream of weakness and a bountiful past I probably won’t even know. Hence, these make you very extraordinary.
So please don’t misunderstand.
How my passion for words and writing dresses itself with muscles and tissues as if a living creature that dwells within your energy.
What I do and not do, the things I write, the ideas I share, what I think and feel about you and things like making you the ‘subject, the canvas and the raw material’ for my seascape.
Please don’t misunderstand all of them.
Seriously, they don’t bite but I do. 😂
Blood veins on a page
darted by lust;
bladed by rage.
A paper blemished with pain
blocked the letters under the rain.
Cold and wet on a stormy night
Words like coals in the furnace burnt
With the ashes as ink
On a scented paper
ramped the unwritten words
Of shadows and thorns
The profuse swelling of dark red blood
Of a heart not mending
Was saved by one’s musing.