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TRADE

Tick – tock.
The time walks.
What do I do in this misery?

Plop – plop.
The bodies drop,
Synched with heartbeats, ironically,

Clink – Clink.
The liquid spills.
I drink whatever is left of it, greedily.

Think – think.
The brain shrieks.
To derive pleasure from this is sickly.

Hiss – hiss.
The serpent laughs.
It has now bitten into me.

Sigh – sigh.
I wave goodbye
To peace, calm and sanity.

Hush – hush.
The winds brush,
the scared leaves of the tree to sleep.

Wait – wait.
The soul leaps
away from this piece of satan’s prey.

Help – help.
The body screams?
Or I scream? No this is not me; it can never be.


An older poem.

I was just imagining a bunch of scenes and wanted to try to write in a different sort of way. I titled it ‘Trade’ because it’s supposed to be a person’s descent to insanity and/or evil. You know, the whole ‘trading the soul to the devil’ thing. In the end, the person is just a shadow and helpless. I’m not very sure about what it means, this is one of those poems where I didn’t think much and wrote whatever came to my mind. Also, it has this sort of nursery rhyme feel to it.

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Morby Junior

As a kid I was really curious about what were the criterions for getting into heaven. And so I started asking my parents and relatives, and they told me all kids go to heaven.

So now I knew when a newborn or a kid dies they are ‘technically’ going to heaven because, of course they’re untouched by the dirty fingers of the world, right?

But then as a kid who really just wanted that eternal jackpot, I wanted to know at what age exactly does one stop going to heaven? After tedious attempts they finally told me that if you died before the age of 12 you could directly go to heaven.

Now this heaven was supposed to be an amazing place where you get unlimited everything. I was unsure why couldn’t we (not-yet-12-year-olds) just kill ourselves and win the lottery. For a long time after I heard the amazing news, the 8 year old me used to begrudgingly mutter to myself while planning my own death, why can’t I just go to heaven?

Well, those sentiments didn’t seem very morbid at that time. But when I look back at it, I understand why I don’t have friends.
Haha, just kidding- I do have friends.
riGhT.

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Blog Banners, Logos, Book Covers..

Well, I am not a designer or anything but I like making these little graphics which include Blog Banners, e-Book covers, logos and such.

So If you’d like one, you can comment below. I just have to know a few things. If anything is confusing, just let me know. I’ll try to make it in a day or two.

✥ FORM ✥

❑ Desired dimensions and/or for what purpose? (a ebook cover, social media post or a banner, etc) :

❑ Theme/ colours/ style :

❑ Other specifications :


I’ll find some recent examples (these are quite minimalistic but I can do other styles too):

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Poems

GYST


It is slightly hard but much required
to get rid of some assumptions that we’ve acquired.
We will shed off our old skins,
wriggle out of it and throw it in the bins.
At the same time, we will retain ourselves.
Remember the things we love, but in the past we will not dwell.

We will rise up stronger.
We will rise up wiser.
We will learn to accept our flaws
and learn to love ourselves, without a clause.
We will learn to teach ourselves.
We will learn to steady ourselves.
Collect ourselves
Control ourselves
Console ourselves,
Without the need of someone else.

This change will take time
but this sense of self-awareness was prime.

So brace yourself, unleash your reins.
Dilate and puffen your pupils and veins.
You better get your shit together, son
Because nothing is lost, the race has just begun.


This is one of my poems, I wrote for myself while in a confusing phase. I, for the very first of times, like how the poem turned out – considering the conditions.

So, the ‘gist’ of the g.y.s.t. poem is telling myself to ‘get my shit together’.

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Mauerbauer-Traurigkeit.

Mauerbauer-Traurigkeit.
n. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.
(from https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com – there are some really nice words there).

A few days ago I was being really irritable and pitiful too. Feeling all Mauerbauer-Traurigkeit, you know. Pushing away people and having all sorts of morby thoughts of how there’s nobody actually likes me and everybody secretly hates me (and some not so secretly). I felt this urge of just abandoning whatever friendships and such things I have, live alone like a hermit and disconnected.

Well, it maybe a made up word but it really resonated with me when I looked at the meaning. As in, it felt nice to have something to name whatever I was feeling.

I’m much over the feeling of MBT now. People aren’t that hard, some things are just simple but I like to complicate stuff. I felt so ungrateful and bad after I was so accusing and arrogant.

I wish I don’t ever feel MBT but now even if I do, I’ll be okay with it. Once you ‘normalize’ (whatever the hell that is) things, it’s easier to say – okay, that was okay, you’re okay. So yeah, that’s that.


Just a kid who found an interesting word and wanted it to share it. I’m listening to the Strokes nowadays (and right now), they’re goOod. Okay cya.

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Whimsical Whistles

This is about yesterday night, when I heard this pentasyllabic whistle.

Okay, I may be paranoid or maybe just hearing things. But hear me out, I was sleeping alone on my bed and the windows where all shut. Suddenly as I was trying to sleep, I hear this kind of accusing whistle. It was so clear, crisp and I can swear on my liver that I heard it from inside the room.

Of course, there are no ghosts in my room right? Right? Anyways but that whistle gave me the shudders. I began making so many possibilities. I’ll list my thoughts down here:

– It is a ghost. ( My heart beating in my throat and eyes darting all around the room.)

– Well it can’t be ghost, so it’s a person hiding in one of those cupboards.

– But then, a person can’t fit into those cupboards, and the voice would be muffled so..

– It is a ghost. ( Oh dear, oh dear Lord help your child. *frantically doing the sign of the cross* )

– Okay, so maybe it isn’t a ghost I’m just having audible hallucinations.

– WAIT, AM I HAVING A HALLUCINATION?

– oh shit.

– It’s alright, I’m freaking out unnecessarily.

– (slightest ruffle of a paper or something) shit, shit, shit. Let me cover myself fully with the blanket, especially my feet because them monsters always grab them feet first.

– Or maybe I was the one whistling? But I don’t know how to whistle.

– Nothing is real anymore.

– Please take me away, ye Whimsical Whistling Alien. (Chanting)

Yeah, there’s definitely so many more thoughts which I can’t remember and it’s becoming too boring. And then I got into a spaceship and flew away.

“Take me away, ye Whimsical Whistling Alien”

Morby 2K20

So pro-tip #1 – If you ever hear any unwarranted whistles, you say -“Take me away, ye Whimsical Whistling Alien” (thrice) with total re

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mean•ing + bit of con•tem•pla•tion

Meaning of got the morbs is ‘ temporary melancholy’. I found this Victorian phrase amusing, therefore I named this website We Got The Morbs.

Right now I’m feeling ‘morby’ but that’s the cycle of life.

Getting the morbs and then getting rid of the morbs and getting the morbs again, and so on.

Some people believe or have this idea that once they do something, or maybe reach their goal in life, or get rid of something, they’ll be able to live ‘happily ever after’. Maybe that’s not true, there’s no Happy Mount we can climb and reach the peak of happiness. So many rotten skulls and bones lie on the way to the happy peak. All these people have lost their lives chasing idealized happiness.

One must realize that true happiness is found internally. Money, success or any other thing can’t guarantee permanent happiness (I mean of course, we all know this. I should think of something original…).

Try to find joy in little things, take care.
Goodbye~