Skip to main content

Scattered.


Because I can't feel my legs anymore.
They're dangling on the floor of a room miles away, where they wish to be. Not here. They were not meant to be here this long.
Fingers try to make castles out of the humid dry air.
Nothing.
The dark is blinding. And I see everything. That's why it all mixes up into one single colour. The colour of the world.
And you think I can't see a thing.
And my mind? You ask if my mind was in the right place?
Could you point me out where it is actually supposed to be?
Is it supposed to be dangling on the butcher's where all of you have laid yours?
Have you thrown it to the sea because you wanted to start clear?
You know where my mind is?
It's in the middle of a bridge.
One side of it leads to your reality.
Another leads to my home.
Tell me where I should go.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Week After The Valentine's I haven't understood love. As we grow up, our perception of love and life differs greatly. Often, we tend to overshadow one with the other, and that is exactly where we make mistakes. Balance. Balance. Balance. It's everything we want. What's worse, is that we are flawless humans, which means we have a chain of imperfections and we constantly need someone to appreciate them. Why, I wonder, can't we do it ourselves? My greatest struggle with self is acceptance. Appreciation. I'm divided. I want to show people that I am divided. Then I want them to love me even more. That's love for me. Valentine's day comes and goes, yet not a single day do you accept yourself. We leave the job of loving ourselves to each other. We praise each other, talk at lengths about each other, find ourselves in each other. Because we chose the other, before ourselves. We tend to sink in the gravity of someone else's affection. It's ou...
2 comments
Read more

Ageing Heart

My ageing heart is a tree, on the far end of this park I wait and watch its twigs and trunks, even when it's quite dark Your memory has latched onto the branches, like a leaf And I a fool, always thought they'd wilt like autumn leaves But autumn came and went, and the leaves stayed strong Surpassing time, grief and acceptance, for far too long The memory bothers the soul, who is busy writing the encore It knocks too hard, and often too loud at its porous door This memory is messy and it smells It has no love for me, just no respect It captures attention and laughs, it spills the spoils Memory is not strong, it's not smart, but oh god the chatter, the moil It dries up my throat in the middle of the night Overflows my heart at inappropriate times And the leaves just don't leave! They defile my beautiful ageing heart of a tree I ask for it to stay strong, so it weeps silently How I wait for a gardener to come and tell me some lie "I've checked all over, and everyt...
Post a Comment
Read more

Squiggles and Scribbles of Sashi

Sashi woke up today, annoyed and at 4 a.m. Her thinning blanket somehow turned over and her oiled-up feet were exposed to the ruthless chills of Magh. She angrily switched on the light, as if to scold the walls and windows of her room for the restless night.  Her belongings in the one-person rental flat are quite minimal, although symmetrically pleasing, like something straight out of a Wes Anderson movie, only, without the colours. Her clothes, from her mother's sarees to her work uniform had to put up a fight with her undiagnosed O.C.D; even the softest of the fabric was disciplined into a neat pile.  Her bathroom had nothing more than a single soap, dry on one side and slimy on the other. Her toothbrush, however, looked more worried, for the woman brushed ferociously, disappointed at her slightly yellow teeth which were now accompanied by often bleeding gums.  Her kitchen was completely empty, as she had decided not to eat in her room. The ventilation in the tiny flat ...
2 comments
Read more