August 19th, 2014
My eyes burn as if they went about picking cinders in a cauldron. And the skin that keeps my eyelids up seems too uptight to prevent them from dropping down like curtains after a show is done and over with.
I know though that I am not done and over with what I want to see, with what I want to feel, with what I want to melt into...
Tuesday mornings are beginning to look like symbols of Mondays and I don't want to do anything about it. I believe in letting people be - in letting people dress the way they want to. And that belief I extend to the days of the week as well. There's only one problem: Those symbols are too heavy to be worn as pendants around my neck. As a result of which, I feel a bit bogged down...
A numbness of the most magnificent kind is keen on visiting me. I have asked it to delay its arrival. But apparently, it's as stubborn as a relative of mine and refuses to consider my say in the matter. I can sense it arriving for my fingers start to slow down to a point where I feel their tips dab rather than click on things. Consequently, the swiftness in my actions starts to ebb away into a tide of nothingness - a blank dark tide of water that glistens and sharpens its teeth to bite into my being...
Its bite is rather heavy to bear. It clasps the back of my neck and sends a sliver of pain up into my head. And that's when I have to let it be, let it finish with what it began, and hope it finishes soon...
I really really wish I were a child all over again. The child who stood at the window of the balcony and was happy to see the lights of the marriage hall, the tinkling glisten of Chevrolet Impalas making their way to the wedding, and the dull bland bright white of the tubelights in the shops across the road...
My eyes burn as if they went about picking cinders in a cauldron. And the skin that keeps my eyelids up seems too uptight to prevent them from dropping down like curtains after a show is done and over with.
I know though that I am not done and over with what I want to see, with what I want to feel, with what I want to melt into...
Tuesday mornings are beginning to look like symbols of Mondays and I don't want to do anything about it. I believe in letting people be - in letting people dress the way they want to. And that belief I extend to the days of the week as well. There's only one problem: Those symbols are too heavy to be worn as pendants around my neck. As a result of which, I feel a bit bogged down...
A numbness of the most magnificent kind is keen on visiting me. I have asked it to delay its arrival. But apparently, it's as stubborn as a relative of mine and refuses to consider my say in the matter. I can sense it arriving for my fingers start to slow down to a point where I feel their tips dab rather than click on things. Consequently, the swiftness in my actions starts to ebb away into a tide of nothingness - a blank dark tide of water that glistens and sharpens its teeth to bite into my being...
Its bite is rather heavy to bear. It clasps the back of my neck and sends a sliver of pain up into my head. And that's when I have to let it be, let it finish with what it began, and hope it finishes soon...
I really really wish I were a child all over again. The child who stood at the window of the balcony and was happy to see the lights of the marriage hall, the tinkling glisten of Chevrolet Impalas making their way to the wedding, and the dull bland bright white of the tubelights in the shops across the road...
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