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Reservoir Chronicles: The Real Mi

"Let me tell you about Mi" she said....

....I chase after something that I myself do not know....

....I have the ability to kill, and I know it....

....Everything about life is a game to me, you loose some, you win some....

....I like good boys because its a puzzle finding whats bad about them....

....I hate self sacrifice....

....I smile as a reaction to all things, no emotional change....

"Let me tell you about Mi" she said....

....There is someplace I want to be, though I don't know where....

....I hate it when people make a completely false image about me to me....

....I love boys because they are more complicated and fun to pick apart....

....I would go with you to any length, simply to see how far you would go....

....I don't like girls partly because I am one....

...I want someone to understand me, yet I don't want to tell anyone about me....

....I love fast things....

....I love 'happily-ever-afters' in others...

....I want someone to tell us apart, yet I don't want to give any hints....

....And as I stared and listened to her, I wanted to say....

There is a fire in your eyes,

and it flashes through your smile.

There is a radiance that i know only comes with my glow.

There is a reason that I'm here,

And its something that I fear,

We refuse to release the other,

And there in lies the problem.

The Illusion before you,

Is a mere shadow of what lies beneath.

The face you see,

Is a mere representation of what side it holds.

The voice you hear,

Is a mere cover for the true tales it tells.

The smile you behold,

is never loyal to one emotion.

Would you like to see the real Mi??

As would I.

Diabolical lover

In the wake of the night,
I saw.
The shadows illuminated my room’s sky,
Forcing my unwavering attention.
The soft fiery glow warmed my cheeks,
Yet I knew for a fact one touch would scourge.
Like the ever living fires of Hades.


He came to me.
In sleep or dream I do not know,
But he came.
The skies became the baby blue of dawn,
Yet he glowed and smelt as the twilight.


Gentle kisses he placed,
And I felt them like rain droplets.
Yet I did not touch him.
Plead and cajole he tried, Immortal none the less; I refused.
Relishing the power.


His eyes now grey,
I fear a storm cometh.
He placed a hand on my chest.
I shivered.
His hands burned and cooled as they moved.
A sensation I did not know to scream from or weep with joy.


He kissed me,
I tasted his lips.
He tasted of the sea, the dead sea.
My eyes flew open, the cock crowed.
It was morning on earth.


Night and day he torments me.
Leading mi up the torturous pleasures of ecstasy,
Only to leave me hanging at death's door.


Yet day and night I long for him.
Like the sex craved drug addict he turned me into.
Sodom and Gomorrah had the right idea I wish to say,
For he alone would drive me insane.

The Art of Boredom

The definition of boredom would be Mi, at this moment, sitting in an office space by myself with nothing to do. This is not meant to be the case though. And while I sit here pondering if I should be joyful or sad that my participants did not show up, I am also plagued with the ever living nightmare that this is just a glimpse into the everyday cycle of some people, i.e. 9-5ers, and I'm further reminded that there is no way in hell I would survive in their world. At least retaining my sanity.

Sometime soon, I am going to need to find a permanent solution to this seemingly life halting problem that plagues my 'daymeres' ever so often. But for now, my next participant is here, Thankest God, so I have to go work.