Never let me go

Never let me go
by me(whatever)
to: Florence + The Machine- Never Let Me Go

Never let me go,
all of these memories,
that make me who I am,
untrustworthy enough,
to keep that childhood promise.

I might tell you that I've solved them all,
those questions that torture your soul.
But you ask them because you don't see me,
and nobody can trust their own reflection.

I could tell you that you were wrong,
everything twisted to your own perception.
But you lie to yourself because you're afraid,
and you can only climb that wall alone.

Never let me go,
this nonexistence I lead,
like static on the wrong channel,
untrustworthy enough,
that no one can see who I am. 

I might tell you that you've stolen it all away,
the freedom I used to have, you spit it up,
like it was foul in your mouth, and couldn't sing you to sleep.
But if I told you..., you'd steal away those words.

I might tell you that I was like you,
unable to feel the other people around me.
But I've found my answer, a reason I'm alive,
and someone can only find that once they're dead.

Never let me go,
when I could believe,
when I was from the wild,
when I could be happy,
when I was a child.

There's nothing left of you.

Apple Sauce

Apple Sauce

by me(whatever)

to: miku- Outside the Window

Oil drips from the handle,

the juice spills through the metal.

Turning the apples to mush,

my mother stirs the sauce over heat,

while it bubbles like caramel, refusing to settle.

The whole house is humid,

and smells like the almost burnt fruit.

Dark clouds from the window,

spooning abhorrent spheres from soup,

wooden pounder; smashing it down the chute.

The sun goes down,

the sky is in monochrome.

Glass jars in a pot of broiling wrath,

lids, ringers, and spilled mess,

it feels like home.

Please don't say that.

Please don't say that.
by me(whatever)
to Miku- Don't look at me in that way

[
Anger
Terror
Mentality
Abuse
Distrust
Coward
]

Lucky

[
Quiet
Kind
Mentality
Gentle
Trust
Brave
]

Depreciate

Envy
.
.
.

Argument

Argument
by me(whatever)
to: KANA-BOON- ないものねだり

We're in a Chinese restaurant,
called something like 'Dragon star',
those kind of names that sound the same.
It's empty at 2,
but just a little less as we sit down.

What is it that you want from me?
Wait, don't answer that question.
Because it was obvious from the start
that I'm not going to listen.

3 out of 4, we all order the same thing
something shrimpy and noodley.
Phoenix and Dragon arguing on the wall,
the chairs are too straight,
like my back is to a pole.

Washing my hands from last's nights memory,
the whole place is clean,
but I guess it neglected the smell from the stalls.

I just want to go home,
but those people across the table just ignore me like the plague.
With that horrible summer sun blazing out there,
it's been a while since I've been this angry.

My Littlest Brother

My Littlest Brother
by me(whatever)

He said he wanted to die.
I heard him as he said this,
the little brother I never knew.

Even though, in several times of pain,
I had said the same.
This was different as a child of nine
spouted my silly words into the air.

I was afraid, and in times pretended to care.
But, I admit, I was the same as my hate;
the only person I cared for was myself.

And after the war,
of two sides of our nationality
I remembered the peace before,
and wanted him to feel it.

I started out without any knowledge,
feeling fake in every pore.
But he accepted the thing I gave readily,
and I became real.

Hugging, reading books at night,
running to meet each other, complimenting on a drawing,
rollerblading in the sprinkling sidewalk, laughing,
and,
always smiling.

I'm striving towards a goal,
a goal I thought impossible before.
you know? that yellow thing that reminds me of daisies and the sun,
the thing called happiness.

The first time I saw him, it was the last day of first grade,
he was purple all over, my newborn littlest brother.
I remembered my feeling that someone wasn't here yet from before,
put my finger in his palm,
and as those stump fingers curled around it,
the feeling was fulfilled.

I remember him being bathed in a dish-like thing,
and my mother wrapping him in a yellow hood towel.

I remember him running around in saggy diapers,
flushing kitchen things down the toilet,
writing his name on the bathroom wall after my mothers new coat of paint.

I had meant to teach him what childhood meant,
what affection meant.
But he was the one who spurred my old woman brain,
and HE re-taught me how to hug,
how to have fun,
how to smile,
what my childhood meant,
and how to love.

He doesn't say he wants to die anymore.

Yes, Happy Birthday

Yes, Happy Birthday
by me(whatever)


Ambushed from the stairs,
what more is there to say?
Strings of celebration,
although I hadn't caught reality,
Happy Birthday.

An unnoticed squeak in her hair,
a mutant orange for lunch,
a chocolate orange for pessimism,
December girl hanging with a pencil case,
Orange dress wearing a pink bathrobe,
a booklet of late mails, and a nostalgic song,
a promised illustration.

With the gifts wrapped in a list,
I gorge on my favorite foods once a year,
inhaling sushi with gusto,
sipping Udon,
all the while,
feeling quite spoiled.

Except,
of course,
we forgot the "cake".

So I Went to see The Nutcracker

Yesterday on Saturday, I went to see The Nutcracker. I don't really think it matters why I went, or who performed it, or where I went, but I'll tell you that I went to see The Nutcracker. I remember in the last few days of October, I told myself that I would go if I could, and it turned out exactly that way, although I didn't really do much of anything to figure anything out. The reason I had wanted to go was because of my Scarlet Notes of Hood blog that I was writing at the time. In that blog I wrote exactly 31 diary entries of Little Red Riding Hood as she traveled through the wood Jarnvior, and meets fairy tail people from other stories. It was pretty fun to write, although it tired me out considerably. In the last post, there's a masquerade party that has the nutcracker pop up. I had to research a bit about the story on Wikipedia, and when I finally read the story for the first time, I wanted to go see it. All the other times I had ever seen The Nutcracker I had never understood what the heck was going on. So this time I knew what was going on, and I enjoyed it quite all the way through. I was not bored once. And it snowed too, outside when it was over.

Before it began, my sister and I actually graffitied the pamphlet. It was awesome, with all the ballerinas with wings, and holding spiders and ice cream cones, and stick figures climbing up a guys back as he talks to a lady with a moustache. By the way, that guy had a spider familiar who was trying to protect him from the stick figures. Ha ha, and there was also a Peter Pan play ad, that was just perfect for me to draw wings and a halo on him. I mean, where is Peter Pans wings? A little boy that was sitting on his papa's lap was watching us the whole time, and tried to get his dads attention to our drawings too. Oh, goodness it's great when you let go of your maturity and do fun things like that. I think that 'maturity' is most times just something people put about themselves to make themselves seem cooler anyways. I mean, even I do it sometimes, so I understand.

When I watched the forest of lighted Christmas trees outside, I realized that I had see those probably ever since the moment I was born. Since I was born in December and my birthday is coming up really soon. I don't want to turn older. Blegh. But those Christmas trees were really beautiful.

Kitchen Heart

Kitchen Heart
by Me(whatever)

This heart of mine is a kitchen,
if I were to describe it to you specifically.
the walls change colors on different days,
and the windows close and re-open,
according to the temperature of the weather. 

The pictures lined up prettily on the changing wall-paper,
need to be dusted every once in a while.
If the decor is disarrayed and messy,
I must use my hands, -quickly
before a guest comes.

The dishes can become dirty as they sit in the sink,
eventually a rotting smell seeps out.
I can ignore dirt and grime for a while,
holding my nose as I walk by,
though in the end I can't bear it.

And when I become hungry,
the refrigerator sits in the corner,
Preserving  memories I haven't thrown away.
Though they've cooled with time,
I can easily reheat them in the microwave!

If I wish to bake some cookies for someone,
the oven stands to be heated.
Though things I've kept in the freezer,
hoping never to be melted,
may also accidentally be thrown in.

The knives reside in their places,
clean and ready to be used.
To feed my boredom,
I grab the things I bought elsewhere,
and even if I'm cut, I chop and cook.

Pots large enough for a family,
and spiders unseen deep down in the cupboards.
Sneaky mice thieves running in at night,
the drawer that holds all the useless gizmo's,
thrown in by indifferent fingertips.

Yes, the chip bag hidden for a self-pleasure,
the cans over five years old,
people opening doorways searching for nourishment,
the stinky thing they find,
and the performance of dancing silverware.

Conversations are held here,
singing, twirling, crying, wondering.
The bottles of cleaning supplies sweep the floor,
scrubbing away with all their might,
a discoloration of Clorox. 

Plates all stacked up,
occasionally becoming broken,
the counter-top grandly adorned with candy wrappers,
the aroma of spices,
and the acquaintances walking through.

Hey,
if I said,
"my heart is a kitchen"
what would the glass vase roses say,
that are in the dining room?

Because,
no doubt,
a kitchen,
is a dangerous place.

Green Apple

Green Apple
By Me(Whatomic)
to HedgeHog's Dilemma (ost Evangelion)

two gifts wrapped for two sisters,
I get second choice
and in the crinkling wrapping, there was
The flavor of green apple

Not blue, Not red;
No peace, No love
Childish memories sprawl over each-other 
Attempting to grow sweeter


But I am the second choice;
Not sugar or spice
The one unfitting
is Sour

I can hide my jealousy
Green-eyes behind Blue
But if you cut into me
you'll taste it

Tart and taught,
I will screw up your lips
If you can speak still after
please remain silent

My insides may be white,
Juices evaporating as removed
But, don't be fooled
The aroma is the same

(Battle-scars reflecting a cat's curiosity
shared by humans
How far can I go on?
(Without being eaten)I still don't know)

Though, perhaps if the sun falls on me one day
My skin might start to change color
And I'm hoping if that day comes,
I will ripen to red.

Pandora's Rain in The Underworld

Pandora's Rain

*Written by Me(Whatomic) 7/16/12
to this song: Sora kara futtekita Shoujo (All that Jazz- Castle in the Sky Ost) Ghibli
All of the Ghibli 'All that Jazz' songs are amazing; check them out.

Yes, a long time ago
It began and never ended
this spinning melody.

I can smell the rain starting to fall
An old woman walks with her face hidden by her umbrella
You see, I can't hold all of my fears back.

A dark day
Is brighter to me
A roar in the silent wind.

It has fallen again; the illusion.
Enveloping the end of the Earth is a Pandora's box
The one thing left behind by you is Hope.

Shh,
The eyes are slowly closing on your Heart
Only the patter of Rain is sounding.


SAYA IN UNDERWORLD

So yeah, totally changing subjects from nostalgic rainy thinking to Japanese Horror; I found a new site! Well actually, I was recommended and pressed to read it by my brother who is an avid Horror fan. The blog I'm talking about is SAYA IN UNDERWORLD. It's a blog where 'Saya' has translated a whole bunch of Japanese Horror stories into English At first I was skeptical since I'm typically a non-horror story person( I was when I was little, but then I decided I liked my sleep more), but when I actually went on I was surprised that I couldn't stop reading them one after another. They're so interesting! The scariest one I have come across so far is 'The Red Room'. It makes me shudder to think about it. Ick. But I must thank my brother who told me about it. Thanks Mass- and- Inertia! I doubt I will sleep anymore!

I listen to Raujika-Bamboo when I read the stories. A link to the blog is also in 'The blogs I'm following List' at the side of the page to the right among the clutter of gadgets(sorry about that).

Scary Stories per Second-CAvEs

Summer is s  o    b  o r  i   n  g! It's still hard to believe school is really over. It's pretty bittersweet, I guess. I have to write a lot these two months. One of the things I have to write is a short horror story that came up as a challenge. My mother, 2 oldest brothers, and I(maybe a few other peeps) are doing a horror story contest. The end date to get it in is the last day of June. I gotta get cracking. I'll post it up here when it's done. The idea is kind-of weird.

Here's my three favorite soundtrack songs from the movie '5 centimeters per second' for you romantic but dumped people: One more time, One more chance(Masayoshi Yamazaki) (the lyrics to this one are beautiful, look them up if you have time to see what they mean). One more time, One more chance piano version self explanatory. 05-Kiss part of soundtrack.


Here's a short story(really short) that I wrote on a whim yesterday. You won't get it unless you're part of my family, since it's made up of inside jokes and people close to me. However, I'm going to write it down here, nonetheless.


CAVES
written yesterday

In the dark depths of an underground cave, there lies the creature called the Devil. Now, some might misunderstand and say that his name is actually DEVIN, but I know better, since I'm the highly esteemed narrator, so ignore them. Anyways, this Devil, oh, I mean, THE Devil, resides in the cave below mine(I am a troll, but how I came to be one is another story) and I can hear the voices of suspicious activities from below when I'm trying to get my wart-treatment sleep. Most of these 'activities' sound somewhat like a mix of rap music, angry voices, and a clicky arcade. The noise keeps persisting late into the night, and while I am generally a kind neighbor, my warts are hazardly decreasing in size and population. After another night of a commonly loud activity-filled night, my patience dwindled into nothingness, and I stomped out of my cave down the steps heading towards the underworld. I stopped in front of the entrance to his cave, however, because I realized it would be foolishness to take him one alone. So instead, I turned to his next door neighbor, the Mummy. Now, the Mummy worked the grave-shift, so I wasn't sure if she would be there, but I tried the door bell anyway. The try resulted in failure-no one answered. Sighing, I turned away, and was about to walk into the entrance of the Devils cave to take him on alone, when a barking sounded from behind me. Whirling around, I was face to face with Cerberus; the 2-headed dog. I would have to get past the dog to get to the Devil. I took my battle stance. The mutt growled and growled, and just as I was about to pummel him, a horrible stench erupted from one of his heads. It was so gruesome, I turned and ran back to my cave of sanctuary. I had heard of fellow trolls mentioning that the Devil called Cerberus by an alternate name of Butt-head. Now I finally understood why.

Remembering that odor was so traumatizing, that I never attempted to scold the Devil again. A week later I found the answer to my pains. Beautiful, Beautiful ear plugs.

'Tac-Ti-Turn' =Box in my closet

Memory Box

by Whatomic(Me)

Can you decipher it?
The weaving language of the summer wind-
The bouncy laughter floating on bubbles of life-
My lost balloons still wandering in the sky-
A sound existing only on feathers;
Wistful sunny Flight.

Can you Feel it?
Just around the bend of an alleyway-
Before the beginning-
After the ending-
When you turn the knob of your door-
When you tell the most important thing;
precious everyday anticipation.

Can you remember it?
Things you ate for breakfast-
toys you played with as a child-
Long forgotten?-No, -buried-
The face of the person you loved-
The melody sang below the pavement,
but just above the sun-
Memories of loved ones.

                          "The box I had in my closet,
                                  old letters and photos....
                               things I used to feel, hear, see.....
                                                Are they completely gone?"



Tac-ti-turn -favorite word of the day

3-9-12

3-9-12
written 3/14/12 and 3/18/12
by whatomic (me)

We were playing hide-and-seek,
taking turns disappearing behind brick and grass.
Simply at a place where I had been before,
illuminated by streetlamps and moonlight.

A pair of floppy ears and an ignorant nose,
ran playfully attending to find us.
We, laughing, gave out sounding clues for a wagging tail,
which resulted in holes in my sleeves.

As the game began to end, we started off,
our shoes squishing in the slight damp.
However, holding onto one more thread of gold,
we flattened ourselves to the ground.

Hid, we lost sight of the brown in front of us,
yet we kept still not realizing it had gone.
Our eyes in a blindfold of shadows,
at fault of not calling out.

An invisible knife pierced through our ears,
awakening our feet to the pavement.
Desperate doubts slipped as sand through our minds,
though not a word was sped.

We found the limp tail we had declared too alive,
aside the blood-shot fogged goggles in strawberry mouths.
And I began to worry,
The holes would be no more.

BitterSweet Grand-Concert

It's a real bittersweet feeling when you get back from performing in a concert.

And when your worlds collide with each-other.

When you feel torn between two acquaintances.

And you simply can't decide,

If you feel relieved from the busy time.

Or sad because it ends.



In the future we may never meet again.

At least not as we are now.

We'll both change because of experience,

And our relationship will never be the same again.

However,
as long as you are relatively O-K,
I won't lose hope.
Or be too sad for too long.
I hope you won't either.


Because,
It's a real bittersweet feeling when you get back from performing in a concert.

You have to let loose all anxiousness.

Talking excessively and laughing while tears fall down your face.

You realize you miss that person more than you thought.

Though you never talked much,

You remember.



 *written by me