The lion cub

I’m blotting out several sounds at once. I want to disbelieve what I’m seeing, what you’re showing to me, but its taking effort. I keep getting distracted, but…this is how it goes down. Yes.

Things dictate themselves, over and over again, like lab rodents, hamsters in their wheel, guinea pigs who need ulterior motives. And you ask me to do what?

You give me memories that haunt me for hours and hours and days later. Memories that I sometimes find difficult to escape from. I want release, but do I really? I wish they did not exist, but now I will accept them, embrace them...but make them my own?

I am in a state of mental anguish. Anguish. Chaos. Pain.
Sound. Noise. Heat.
Feeling.

Warmth radiates out from our little circle, our alcove of peace and security. You may try to penetrate it, but you'll probably come up with nothing. It is empty now, polluted by, nothing in particular, and yet very much.

So God help me.

Picking flowers

Sometimes I cannot figure out where the beginning is and where the end. Endless words and feelings pop up in my head and images flicker back and forth like entire film reels. Emotions.

I’m just a silly little girl who thinks she knows a lot but actually knows nothing about anything.

I make mistakes everyday, and now it seems I have started a chain of mistakes that are linked to each other and keep going on and on, a chain reaction I cannot stop, a trail of problems that will not end, a withered daisy-chain that my fingers will not, cannot, stop building.

So help me, God.

It is difficult to point my finger at a single point and say that this is where it all started – my daisy-chain is deceiving…it looks the same wherever I look at it from. Every flower is innocently alike. How cute.

Pathetic is one way to describe me. Foolish is another. Feel free to pick more.

While i wait i might as well discourse

I do not know what I am doing. I did not know I had such little self-control. I want to stop..then I want to start...then I want to stop again - and it goes on and on. Is it wrong? Is it right? Can I explain my actions to someone else? If I cannot, does it mean that it is wrong? Or does it just mean that this is something that other people will not understand?

Of course it is wrong. Of course. Too much happiness is outlawed. It is illegal. It is unfair. One person cannot have so much. I'm trying to stick with it, but soon nature will snatch it back from me. That's how nature goes, that's how it's supposed to work.

Adios love.

Strength from you to me

I need strength. I need it now. I want it to flow from you to me. You forge a connection; hold hands. Warmth flows. Strengthens. Me. You.

Tears dry. Throats unchoke. Laughter returns. But the feel of your hand on mine remains forever.

Early morning poetry

It started with a single verse of Pink Floyd. And he wrote. And i wrote.
It is... I


Pink Floyd: Tongue-tied and twisted just an earthbound misfit.. I


D: Left-alone mystery just an unimportant history.. I


R: Blue black and bruised just a solitary muse.. I


D: Pink purple cliche'd just an only climax delayed.. I


R: Wrap-around and hopeful just an introverted local.. I


D: Much taunted insanity mixed glum-haunted sanity.. I


R: Whipped-up dreaming with cotton candy scheming.. I


D: Stuffed up confusions but unstoppable intrusions.. I


R: Darned holy intentions and yet screwed up redemptions.. I

This shall be my escape

Those three little words...reverberating in my head...again and again and again. They had been whispered for someone else, but i knew they belonged to me too.

Whispers.

Echoes.


They pounded against my skull like the drumbeat from some mystic lore, some myth that had resurfaced. I tried to whisk it away, flapping my hands around my ears; tried to blot it out by sheer will, and by holding my breath, and by closing my eyes, and by surrendering to.. begging for..bad dreams. But i couldnt escape it.

Films flashed before my eyes - entire reels with big block letters that did more than just taunt. Much more.


Take away the little security i had did you?

quaint

"mein ne rkhay thay kahin dil mein chupa kar kuch log
ab mujhe yad nhi kon kidhar rakha tha"

Faisal Ajmi

june 24th

I have carved your name in ebonywood,
Solid black with spidery rifts.
Stick figures dancing across the length and breadth;
Essence
Of scented sandalwood.
You will run your fingers across these scars
Until
The numbness gets imprinted.

a week..or more..

Thoughts swirl in and around my head all day – thoughts that shift and jump and morph from one form to another; half-formed barely-virgin ideas, salted, unsalted; bittersweet poignance moulding into rough, crabby chunks of unreasonable reckoning; stringy and bold fancies warp into petite, contrite thought-substance – and yet…faced with an empty page, I cannot remember what it is I wanted to discourse on.
I had dozens of ideas to expound upon…and now I am empty – more so than the page.

Even then. Let us begin.

I have found it rather pleasing to put into words this phenomenon that I have been noticing recently. You form an idea, or opinion about something, and then you revise it. Again and again and again. New thoughts come about and change your thinking, and you voice a slightly changed opinion…and this goes on.
The only problem is…who to voice it to.
I’m being overwhelmed with emotion.
I must stop.


-

i am bitter...aaho!

-

I was goth today. It felt strangely liberating. It meant I could be however I wanted to be and not have to face any of the ugly, stubby fingers people like to point at me. Yessir...that is my definition of it!

I've gotten back in that race, when time begins to matter. Your pulse races along with every tick of the clock, every second, and a single misstep threatens to throw you off balance and turn your world upside-down.

I want to write in flowing ink, watching the black fluid spread across the page in chinese runes, every dash of the brush elegant and smooth.
I want.
But I am bitter.

No wants with bitter.

End bitter
first

Hard.
Very hard.

*sigh*
-

I am a back and I hurt.

-
Scheduled outage at 2 a.m :D

It's not that late yet, me thinks. But my back is giving way.

Let it drag!

-
There is nothing more strange than thinking about something passively and then suddenly seeing it erupt into existence right before your eyes.
*smile*

I believe in slow, passive thoughts at the moment. Thoughts that are slowly swished around the mind; watching them sparkle in the light, grow, and change shape with each turning movement; thoughts that leave this satisfying warmth as you watch them mould into new ones, leaving that stardust impression in their wake on your subconscious.

I need more flexibility, and more freedom. I haven't yet let down those walls around me, and the stiffness is painfully visible. I wish to flaunt, but am held back. I don't know if it will just take time, or the right kind of atmosphere. Or maybe both.

I can wait.

-