I have no direction in my life and I've never been happier. Weekends are suppose to be like these. Curled up in bed a little longer with you. It is hard to forget I said, when there is such an empty space when you are gone. I won't deny the fool I was as a scientist. Experimenting theories and fascinations. There was nothing to discover. I am back. Here. With you. "I'll be back so soon you won't have time to miss me. Look after my heart - I've left it with you."

bliss

Is lying gently in your loving arms,
feeling your soft breathing beside my ear,
Where two bodies touch in tender embrace.
I breathe you in deeply and quietly,
running my fingers through your luscious hair,
wondering how long this moment shall linger,
a moment where I am one with the world,
shaded under your parasol of love.
Your chaste gentle kisses upon my cheeks,
is latent with playful wanting passion.
I close my eyes shivering silently,
overwhelmed as you press your lips to mine.
In that moment no words ever mattered,
as your heart whispers deep into my soul,
telling me that I am yours forever.

for 25th March 2009

I write a lot.
To the point where I am always out of paper and I have to rely on my cellphone and (certain) recipients who are willing to read the words that I pen down. I am neither a student nor a professor in English & Literature. But I just like putting words together to form sentences to ponder about. Reflective phrases. I do not like to leave words unwritten.
In photography, photographs are ought to be taken/shot to capture or to seal that moment in time, similarly, words should be written just as they were thought of.
So I think a lot.

Because I write a lot.
Because I can't wait to see you again.
So I'll see you soon, love.

Bed philosophy

You aren't missing out on anything in the day. Because nothing happens. So don't feel like you are missing out on a lot when you are stuck at work. Being at home the past few days, has been a blessing and a realization too. I got plentiful of rest. I am recovering from the virus. Being able to drift off to sleep as and when I like. Having no concern with the speed of time. It was all good. I look younger actually. The power of sleep is amazing. Restores strength and youth. Home is a lonely place during the day. Because no one is at home. Everyone is busy with their own work and lives during the day. So home is an empty place during the day.

I am not too sure if I am able to hop back into the whole hectic routine of work tomorrow. But we will see. Five solid days at home has really been so so good. Just what the body needed. You do not realize the impact society, work and life has done to you unless you are made to stay in bed to see for yourself. How tired and exhausted every inch of your body is. And it feels like sleep is never enough. I look a whole lot younger now. I feel at peace with my body and my soul. I feel at ease and relaxed.

So stay in bed people.

twenty three fifty nine

I wonder what the eagle saw today as it flew into the sun, and all it became was a specter of white light. I do not know if it is true that after a downpour a new sun would appear; fresh and bright, as if nothing has ever happened. Everyday is a Dark Night. Accepting has been an easier route to take. No use fighting the system of things. We never win.

Distance does strange things to us - me. It makes the moments that aren't there anymore, scream the loudest. Made you not being around - amplified. One minute a day of you is just not enough. Twenty three fifty nine, without you, unbearable. I miss the little details of things like holding you in crowded places. Imagine how crowded yet empty I feel at the train station or inside a train? How close, bodies to bodies, skin on skin, everyone is, yet are such strangers at the same time.

See you soon... sounds so endearing now.

I miss you love.

to Joyner

I know its been hard on you my love.. its a first for the both of us.. lets just keep in mind that we shall handle a day at a time, and leave the worries of tomorrow for tomorrow.. we haven't got much time for ourselves.. lets cherish these times and leave the worrying for later.. similar in the ways we are, I do understand what its like, when thoughts gets flooded into your mind.. lets just phase out these cacophony of the surroundings.. fall into the arms of each other, be what we are.. I think I heard these from a part of a song, and I find it meaningful..

Strangers in the night..
exchanging glances,
wondering what would be their chances..
two lovely people of the world..

Somehow, its speaks a lot about us.. the way we met, the flow we progressed, till what we are now.. I cherish every moment we have together, restricted in ways we are.. slowly, but surely, we shall break free from these shackles and binds.. and be free to be who and what we are.. I will be looking forward to this day.. ever so anxious..

veer

This weekend has been a revelation all over again to my life. I grasped this lesson a long time before but it just had been a really long while since it hit again. Yes, my experiment was a little sadistic and painful but it was exactly what I need to smack the right senses into me.

Brida was right when she said: "Disappointment, defeat and despair are the tools God uses to show us the way." Strange tools. But I must say they are rather much more effective. For someone like me; I administer unto self.

So I rented a car. And drove like an insane being. I enjoyed the speed, the skids, the thrills of driving through red lights and the pouring rain, fantastic U-turns that slams everyone in the same direction, the compliments of my awesome driving and not crashing, to save a friend from being evicted, seizing every waking possible moment not sleeping just driving. Picture perfect; my guitar in the boot, a radio-tumbler (of ice, coke, wine, beer, mocha), candles, giant party poppers, a change of clothes, a book.

3rd March: I will live life as though I am driving with blindfolds on; without releasing the gas paddle.

I just did. Everything on impulse. At the edge of the knife, I filtered the things and people that mattered. Truly. Madly. So. What you planned, are just your flights of fancy (which ceases to happen). The unplanned, is your only entity; reality.

8 March: Forgive me for the fool that I am. They don't hear my screams like you do.

I drive, you ride, and I love you.

let the right one in

The only time that I will ever own you and call you mine. Is here and now. And when all this has passed, I will never again be able to put up our picture, or call your name, or watch a movie with you, or hold your hand, or sink into your arms to hear your heart beat before you depart. Of all this, I will never be able to do, when I loose you. We are slipping through time together now. It does not matter how we end. Here and now is crucial, despite everything not making any sense.


Here's my favourite screen shot of the week:-

Under water, seconds are slipping, breaths are getting shorter...
A ripple, a struggle on the surface of the water on the other side.. Silently a head falls in... followed by a quick shudder of the arm holding Oskar's head, detached, and descends gently by his side.. But all this, he does not see.

He opens his eyes to see her perfectly round glistening eyes... tinted with blood.

Priceless. Let the right one in.

farther

I'm thinking again. I won't flood you with my messages today. I shall write here while I can. It must be the weather and this song on repeat. Step into my head for awhile now, I'm thinking; How different we love. How our characteristics and personalities form the base and skeleton of a relationship, the birth and the end of it. If you really look deep beyond our flesh and bones, skin and clothes, you realize that our upbringing, beliefs, influences, habits, hobbies, likings & dislikes, intervals of life changing decisions, silently molds the style of our relationships with others. It is fascinating, maybe we all thought about it, but just did not get a chance to put it down in words.

On 22nd February I wrote: "I guess everyone loves very differently. Some needs to be controlled. Some enjoys wearing the pants. Some craves power and respect. Some needs to be free. Some love more than they should."

So how do you love.

People walk in and out of our lives, but it is us, who controls whether they are allowed to stay or go. It was never their decision, it was ours - all along.

billet

To own this in time I have to write it.

I flew a kite today. Really high. I thought about something while flying the kite. In time to come. We don't need them to come back anymore. Their shadows that we would cling on will see us through. And just like that, moving on crept in, without knowledge, without you. Not accepting felt easier and safe. But now to acknowledge that you did, finally after years of chasing the wind, felt just like running with the wind, in the direction of the wind, while the kite soars. Or running and feeling that it is done. It is finally over. Straight and fast out of the labyrinth. I choose it. We choose it. Being in the same room didn't matter. Seeing clearly happened whilst history did not repeat. Out the window I saw for myself what was out there, that you did not see, and I knew that you will never see. Never mind that you won't see. But thank you for leading me back to the start where I fell. The fall was so beautiful that I allowed your blinding light. It is not you, it was me that made you beautiful.

labyrinth

How will I get out of this labyrinth. I just did. Today is an epiphany. I like that word. Along with, "extremist". They said I could explore those options. I am wide awake without sleep. I am sober yet not quite. All that is resounding in my head is, what is next? So I will do anything to feel alive again. But. Nothing. I am and was and still surprised by nothing. Fascinated by nothing even. Annihilation. I just did. I knew.

All along.

I did.

Alright...

"Vulnerable" to end the day.

valentine

I get it now.

What it means to believe in love. It is to accept how vulnerable and unreliable it is. Just to live and believe in that fleeting moment, that love exist.

My first valentine.

replay

Silently, I find myself archiving all that you left behind. In simple notes and those words in those files, it is only then you are there. As the music plays my mind pulls out selectively all that has your name on it which is signed and enclosed with your invisible hands. I did put them away just long enough for the dust to settle, just enough for me to believe the reminders I put in place. I would test minutes and time again, and then I'll pack and sleep. But I already know this reality too well. Too familiar with the aftertaste. It is not what we have that makes the most sense, it is what we don't. I know you would say I am crazy, I already know the whole script of how the shoutings would be. I cannot keep you. Still. I smile to believe it. I will even lie to believe it. So I will play this one more time just to hear those imprints on lyrics, just to hear your ghost; speak to me. You didn't matter enough to hurt me, but you did. I will turn off the lights in defeat and lie in my bed to wait. I know I should sleep as I will have to pay the price of today, tomorrow. I slipped up.

They said, don't give up. Keep writing. Because when words fail so will I die. How else do I reach out invisible hands to eyes and mind of this reality. Now that we are safely separated by walls, space and cement, this is the only way. Each step I take bring shots of pain, piercing, sharply through every nerves in my lower body, which is actually nothing compared to the other lingering ones that would had done greater damage.

I couldn't write the story. How do I continue an end?

antithesis

There are just too many things I cannot put a finger on. I understand damage. But when I look at you, your eyes, your actions, your words just do not telly. What sides do you expect me to take when I do not even know which side you are on. I cannot do what you expect me to do with that contradicting look on your face, you left me with no choice but to walk away. Are we like that? Am I like that? Knowing that we would be damaged further beyond any sort of repair, hurt beyond any form of repair, do we still let ourselves be cut up into shreds. Was I like that in your eyes too? Disgustingly damaged, that you are finally going through what I had to. But are you taking this a little too far? And they would say, what if every deed was done out of love, would damage still face the same penalty? Same criticism? Same judgment? Do you think they would call us Romeo or even Shakespeare?

So when you reach the same level of senselessness in life as I am, what are you going to do next? I would like to know.

9 Hours Later...
I did not know when I mentioned the word senseless, meant that I needed to witness a fight, with blood and someone unconscious on the floor. But it did woke me up, sadistically, felt alive, like an emotion finally passed through me, to end the night.

recognition

How often, we do that. Clinging onto ghosts of things, memories, and people. When we refuse to accept and acknowledge the fact that the moment has passed, our internal turmoil begins. It grows along with time, it does not fade, it does not die, it does not allow itself to be forgotten, it stays, it linger, it remains. Convincing or accepting wholeheartedly are two separate truths to ourselves. One of which sets you free, the other lies. So it was not so bad after all. Everything was less scripted, less manipulative, less awkward. The same wit made things just a little familiar. It is not a tragedy anymore, rather an awakening. Because I refused, I forfeited. I get that now. It is time to put certain things into the grave. The living must go on. I do not blame the fairy tales anymore. It was not their fault, to neglect the loopholes and thresholds. It was us. Weren't they labelled as fiction from the start? Our reality was just not so prominently classified to us.

The past was nothing to her; offered no lesson which she was willing to heed. The future was a mystery which she never attempted to penetrate. The present alone was significant...
- Kate Chopin -

impression

It is hard to narrate when the beginning was not even clear in the first place. So I will try my best to recover the start...

I do have this impression that maybe if it wasn't this heart, I would not be the one writing.

Till now I do not comprehend the screaming amidst the music and poetry blaring from my ear phones, but I am thankful that it creates a beautiful distraction, an attempt to steal a little part of me away. I am the master of distance, loving and never loved, waiting and never waited, the author that will never be understood. The replica is the price I pay to retain your ghost. Every anger and frustration is a constant reminder of why I am still here. Then I recalled that you have been dead for awhile. You, who had held me, would never return to hold me again. You, who had kissed me, would never grace my lips again. What I see are just shadows, lingering at the corner of my eyes, showing me the things that I desire to see. I cannot tell the difference between reality and fantasy anymore. Because accepting either possibility is harsh and brutal; you will never come back again. These words are constant reminders of your death. A time that I have missed and I would never relive again. Unless the gods decide to persecute me in an exquisite, psychotic manner that would make me submit willingly. The poignant predicament is that I know exactly how.

You did not come back for me, to tell me that I am already dead.

Silence

From Silence, Not At All

experimental story : Preface

Preface

So I grief, letting my eyes fill to the capacity that it can hold. "Wait for it" my mind whispered. So I obediently wait for the gasps to come; this is significant for it marks the release and birth of the unseen turmoil that battles to break out. I fumble around this limited space I have thinking, how do I let this flow through any easier or faster in fact. Would the lights matter, should I be standing now? Unknowingly my hand reaches for my heart, did it matter that it didn't do much to stop the splitting pain? Or maybe this act reassures me that by doing so I won't snap, or break into two; holding my heart and torso in place, and what ever that connects this useless, fragile shell of a body.

Now I can't tell if it was real. For I lie to myself too many times that you don't exist. I could sketch this image but what if it was all a lie again? It was picture perfect; fading lights of these colours, yellow, orange and black to reenact your swift departure. The outlines, wrong, too vivid, too focus. It screams your name.

echo

As easy as breathing...

The last time we slept together
There was something that was not there
You never wanted to alarm me
But I'm the one that's drowning now

I could sleep forever these days
'Cause in my dreams I see you again
But this time fleshed out fuller faced

It was so like you to visit me
To let me know you were OK
It was so like you to visit me
Always worried about someone else

At your funeral, I was so upset
So, so upset
In your life you were larger than this
Statuesque

I see signs now all the time
That you're not dead, you're sleeping
I believe in anything that brings you back home to me

- Signs -

aurora

Covet

The scene plays itself out, so simple yet intense. Watch his eyes, watching her. Constant replays on that one emotion. For the thrill or the ride or price. He only sees her. Her every move hurts him. She glances at him, but he tilts her head back, away. Looks of an angel, but her touch could kill. It is not the chess game that he can't escape. It is the knowing, that he will never own her in this life. And all that he can do is watch. So walk away.

Dusk

A piano riff starts the scene... He lies there under the sheets, contented, satisfied, and peaceful. It is a rare state for anyone to be in. Knowing that just this moment in life was enough. But a pull and a shudder was all it took, to take him away. She waits, pacing around that small space, not knowing that was all it took to loose him. The scenes would have changed, wouldn't it? If she had changed a little faster, moved a little quicker. But this isn't it.

That one moment, where his spirit, and her conscious connected. That instant. That light. That whisper of her name. That pathway. That only interconnecting point. That twilight zone. Gone.
It's ain't over till it's over.

Separated my heart from my head, to feel what's inside.
I don't like what I see, so I say goodnight.
Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming colours.
I've never been so deep inside a shadow.
Gotta figure it out. I need a story to tell. Where's the feeling I long for. Before I loose you love.
Listen to my shaky heart.
I want to make it right.
It won't be alright.