Babooshya

Babooshya

Dedicated to:
To the lady who gave life, to a woman who gave birth; TO ME.


She laid there still and lifeless, as if she was asleep with her eyes open, on that Advance Series bed. A bed that has more buttons and controls on it that a universal TV remote. She was under white cotton sheets, and a white pillow. I sat there by her side on a chair that was also covered in a white gown matching hers.

She had multi-toned everything; starting from her bicolored lips with dull reds and vibrant purples. Her bottom lip perched a bit further out than her upper lip. The bottom one was quite fuller than the top lip. They showed remains of past lovers decades ago, they reminisced of a loving deceased significant other. They wer battered, cracked, broken, and dry.

Her eyes were small and beady. Shining of resentment, regret, and suffering. As inviting and honest as they were, they seemed to be gaurding her, and sheltering her from others to view her passionate, worn out soul.

Her neck as well as over all skin was soft, and streched out; like taffy. It had khaki colored freckles, mixed into the overpowering cadaverous complexion, with shades and hints of red. Her skin had loose hairs running around, that haven't been tamed in ages. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a woman of sugh age, that she was.

She had needles and tubes and clips attached to every and any possible part of her body, and the only empty spaces on her body; that had no IV's full of water, oxygen, or morphine. Either left her cruised in black and blues, as well as greens and yellows on her skin, were only left alone, becayse of the amounts of blood drawn from these medically man-made holes, using nothing but never0ending needles.

She hadn't eaten or drank a single thing in three days, and yet she didn't complain a word. She looked weak and helpless, but even under those conditions was to prideful to ask and of the medical sisters for assitance of any kind.

Tequilla Mocking Bird With an AK-1989ine

I guess we will call this;

Tequilla Mocking Bird With an AK-1989ine



I looked across the crowded room and then my eyes caught a glimpse of her. As I scaled the room around, I couldn't help but take a second glance. Her beauty was subjective, She kept tattoos instead of diaries; with every artistic creation etched into her skin there was a story. A story that lied beneath every vividly colored visual expression. Behind it was a memory; of a love affair won and lost, every battle scar hidden in the background with a intricately placed foreground. A hint of foreshadow of what she's been through and how it has shaped her into who she is now.

She was of a pale complexion with lightly pinkish-hued cheeks. She had short hair with extravagant extensions and it was perfectly placed in a disarranged manner. She had Bombay Sapphire colored eyes. I stared at those eyes, begging to G*D that at some point she would acknowledge my existence and just turn and look my way.

Then, it finally happened, our eyes finally met. I fancied how that visual connection made her smile and me tremble. Tremble because it felt as though, as though she had captivated my soul. As dumb as this may sound, at the moment, I... I understood right there, right there, at that mere fucking moment of our eyes meeting, that my heart would ache without her. I had to introduce myself to her.

As I tried to make my way past this crowded-teenage-filled-ALMOST-cult-like-gathering-of-a-party, I shook. My heart was racing, just pounding to such an extent that I saw it move my shirt. I felt anxious, and although I wanted to blame it highly inebriated ratio of Alcohol to blood level in my body, I knew. I knew it was because of her, I was feeling like this. My palms were clammy, I felt awkward.

As I got closer, I noticed; she had a perfect bone structure and an elite pose, mixed with such confidence it felt like she could break me down with one fierce stare, only to use her later known kindness and love to build me back up again. I wanted to have a smoke so G*D damn, fucking bad, at that moment. But, I didn't have one on me at the moment. I had just finished my pack.

I smiled at her, a very awkward smile. Almost could be called a 'forced' smile. She noticed it, I know she did. But she didn't remark on it.
-'Hi.' I said, as I took my trembling, wet, hand out of my constrictingly tight, monochromatic black jeans.

-'Hey, I'm Sophie.' she replied, with a breathtaking smile that almost made me drop to the ground, as gracefully, as a pin.

First Post

First Post

Dedicated to Samantha Yocus, for no particular reason other than; I only made this blog because I saw she had one... I secretly want to be her but, shhhhh! Don't fucking tell her I said that. I saw this amazing movie today; Keith. I recommend everyone to go out and fucking see it here http://watch-movies.net/movies/keith/. I have had a lot going on in my life recently. My birthday passed about 5ive days ago; Monday. My mother got out of the hospital a few days ago; Tuesday. I started getting my life back on track as well. I broke up with my girlfriend about 2wo days ago. (Don't give me sympathy, I am happy I broke things off with her, things were not going in the right direction to say the least, and It's better I ended it sooner than later.)


I started talking to this girl Samantha Yocus; we went to high school together for 4our years, and yet, I feel as though I have gotten closer to her in the past week than I ever could have through out my entire high school career. She is an amazing girl, I feel as though I can learn from her, as well as enjoy have her in my life as the ultimate epitome of the word passed time.

:]


I guess, I don't really have anything exciting to really post today. Oh well give me a few days, something will come up. I will leave this blog with a writing peice I did not to long ago when I was drunk and filled with thoughts, called; DOT

Life.
Okay then.
Live.
But, if you want meaning to that life.
Well, then find love.
Find happiness.
Find that special girl, that you can click with.
From the start. (Not keyboard clicks, I mean spiritual syncronization.) 'It's all about a chance, an unexpected spark of fate', she said.I didn't believe in anything till I met her.
Not fate, nor love.
At very least did I believe in promises.
She told me she has a promise I can keep.
I asked, 'What that could possibly be?'
She said, 'Promise me that I will talk to you again...Perhaps tomorrow?'(I smiled a genuine smile; the kind a fifth grader would when holding his first 'real crushes' hand.
She was breathtaking.
I couldn't believe she asked me something so simple, to make me feel so significant.
It was brilliant.
All that I could respond to her was, 'You might, it all depends what happens... I can't make any promises, life has to many things that could change all of a sudden, or prevent you rather from these promises.
Promises that are unfulfilled are designed destruction.
Broken promises are the worst thing that could happe-'
'If you truly want to make someone happy, you keep the promises you make. That is what love is,' She interrupted. She is very smart, I couldn't disagree with this girl. She seemed to have remark for every statement I threw at her. It was as if she was reading lines out of a script; that stated everything I was going to say, right before I said it. She was to witty for my teenage philosophical life views.
It was stimulating. It was intriguing. It was aggravating. 'How do you seem to have all these answers?' I questioned her. 'It's easy to have answers, when they come from the heart. I believe that everyone you meet is for a reason.' she replied.'Oh yeah, and what are these reasons?' I squealed.'You meet a person, to either; A. Learn something from them. Or, B. To teach them something.' She said in a very coy manner.I asked,'Then why did we meet? so you can teach me something, I'm guessing.''Nope, wrong again sill boy. This time it's kind of a fifty-fifty deal.' She laughed. She looked into my eyes, took my hands, and cupped them in between hers.(Her hands were soft, a bit damp, and warm. Mine were shaking uncontrollably. I was terrified and anxious.) She kissed my hands; Her lips were wet, full, and kind. She then lifted her head looked up at me and smiled her perfect smile. Whispered in my ear, 'Keep your promise to me, and you will keep me around your presence, boy.' As she walked away.