Entries By BatonNoir
Displaying 1 To 9 Of 9 Entries
A metallic triangle. A Pisces symbol. Peace sign. A small cloth strap from Okinawa. A key.
Symbols hanging from a key ring. All cheap, all seemingly meaningless.
But they are weighed down with your memories. They are you.
You told me to let go.
I will never let go.
You will keep on dangling, on this little keyring of mine.Posted By BatonNoir On 02.28.2011 @ 10:39 am
Strength, i.e. power. The thing that a large majority of humanity strive towards.
But for what exactly? Control over others? Control over themselves? A chance to have a sensation of dictating their own destiny?
Strength is an admirable thing to have, certainly.
But will there be one, when the time comes, who will be strong enough to defeat the final adversary – Death himself?Posted By BatonNoir On 02.27.2011 @ 4:42 am
My friend pushed me in, roughly. Almost tripped on the thick electrical wires looping all over the place.
“Honestly, why on Earth are we here? I never expect YOU to bring me here, of all people.”
“Just relax and enjoy the show. You need to experience everything at least once.”
And the girls danced away, their high heels slamming on the beer-soaked tabletops.Posted By BatonNoir On 02.26.2011 @ 1:59 am
Many may find it amusing that any trip I make to the barber’s is fraught with distress and terror.
Not that the terror is the “Sweeney Todd” kind. Although that may be amusing, I do not have an irrational fear of having myself turned into delicious pastries every time I go get my haircut.
No, it is the inevitable disfiguration of my hair that brings so much fear to me whenever I make my trips to the godforsaken barbershop.Posted By BatonNoir On 02.25.2011 @ 6:13 am
Something particularly hard, and rather pointy, fell on my head. Momentarily blinded by pain, I looked around for what it was.
A mango. From the tree above. Ridiculous. Doesn’t this kind of thing happen in only cartoons and such?
To think I’ve been victimized by such a bizarre attack from nature itself. How lucky I must be.Posted By BatonNoir On 02.23.2011 @ 4:02 am
They were scattered all across the floor.
I picked one up.
… eight of hearts. Rubbish. Tossed it aside.
… Joker. A distant bell in my mind.
… She was a Joker, too. An enigma. Could never read what was behind that face of hers. Those jokes – they hid her. And I could never find her.Posted By BatonNoir On 02.20.2011 @ 11:02 am