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Relatable inner thoughts

I.See.It.All

Divergence.

Artful flow over dusky woollen cloth,

Stitch by stitch feverishly towards completion.

A pattern halfway deserted with needle in-between.

Then as if world is hoaxing, even a minor prick

Twinges more than a mind can envisage.

Each word a tussle, each act a combat.

Minutes into years, detailing is a mess.

Until fingers trigger again, pattern completes.

Euphorically passes over another cloth.

No more burning off; fog congregates, and thoughts 

Are spurned. Perhaps divergence is the key.

Amid my dreams, I have always avowed adventures, exclusively. Never pondered why until now. ‘Live in the moment’ thing doesn’t always help. Periodically one has to escape without an explicit propósito and from this I mean thoughts, precisely. 

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”

“I don’t much care where –”

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.” 

― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


Suffering in the present or pains from past will undoubtedly persist however, run away may assist but only if one intends to. 

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Lady In Black

To and fro till dusk,

Crooked head since the episode commenced.

Betides twice a month never

An alarm to convulse the limbs.

From cleavage to pelvis and pelvis 

To feet, bewildered and

Tall like stony skeleton,

Neither inanimate nor alive.

Blue-black contusions each inch,

They thought of a shadow, stigmatized utterly.

Ceiling darkened, an attempt 

For security. But gyved until episode ends. 


It had been hard. But then ‘Bruised Not Broken’ apparently is the rationale. Took several lives to ultimately step out. 

Burn off. Burn off, I will the fog. But it is as stubborn as the Dutch fog. Or maybe my will is as weak as the winter sun. Either way, it doesn’t burn off  – Gayle Forman

Umm yeah, pretty much. But am I supposed to inculpate this fucking disorder? Is it in any way linked to my will? I have this feud between ‘I can’t help it’ and ‘It’s all in the head’ from years. For me heart is just overrated, it’s nugatory yet keeping me alive simultaneously. But yeah, I am still fighting with no hope yet I am here writing again after everything, after a reborn with a tiny coup d’oeil of out of reach scintilla, dreaming to catch it. Let’s see if it’s the head, I conjecture I will get it and preserve it someday.

Syndrome!

Morning alarms and maltreatment literally are two faces of one coin named ‘Welcome To Hell’. Yeah, it might feel very intimate and soul-satisfying conviction to scarcely any and very churlish and obnoxious to the rest. Well, I lie in none of them. For me, the situation is something equivalent to how a weak sighted person would give importance to the features of an ant while passing through a street at a busy day of work. For me my wake up call starts since the very moment I step onto my (oh so alluring yet ridiculed for its job) bed. 

It is not long ago when I became cognizant of my condition – umm less than 3 years. Yep I was diagnosed with a (not so crucial but still not salubrious) syndrome. I am able to see the good but then demoralize the good simultaneously without endeavour. Today; when somehow my dreams are a step ahead, I consciously come 1000 steps back though never willingly. My tendency of doing things are inevitably too high to be stopped but by my precipitous switch of doing the obverse, which might not be voluntarily, it freaking happens. My brain somehow adjusts to the change ghastly and convinces my heart for the good coming ahead in my life. It is really harrowing to accept changes sometimes but then it always seems more cushy than my first verdicts. 


When Tagetes accelerate the delirium,

Opuntia prick to the point of mopery.

When aardvarks tag along with

A spate of legion yarns whole night.

When finches unequivocally vanquish top-tier musicians,

Whether at dawn or a little late.

When Saturn V rocket launch can’t rouse her,

As if hibernating for the entire life.

When either acute fainting is tolerable

Or ready to make theropods head for the hills.


I am pretty sure I sound like a dumb trying to talk to herself but then I always believe people don’t understand me. I wonder if one day I opt for death even when life seems more propitious. I dunno. Until then just trying to live in the moment. 

Itsy-bitsy me…

They dug and made room for the tiniest thing possible. The filthy sludge was too minute for such a mass of people who worked on it. Funny how they deployed all their faculties on one mini life when it could assuredly waste hundreds. Astounding was the defying aptitude of hers, never agreed on bowing until they couldn’t undergo and landed up at this verdict. 

Once inside; sweltered, suffocated, tyrannised at downright inky setting, now thinking of a place to seek shelter and forever it took. Praying of immortality after this life as neither in nor out is tranquility but in death. 


Wide open, petrified and striving to adjust,

Up in a second, teetering and tumbling,

Through the Stygian ginnel, soggy and deserted,

Darker it gets, with proceeding prints,

Never a lump scintillating and stimulating, never a guide

Notices that it’s needed.

Smallest coin the universe occupies,

Smaller than that is what means nada,

No dictionary obliging but laments

Her being weeny, the type always derided and disgusted.

Lost way, lost self, feart of all-

Just not death.


Never an eye catches attention as the site is far-flung, lost in space though around them. While there, the only activity is waiting for enough red to be seen as it will entail whole to be used but then prayers will be heard. So until then, let’s wait tatlım, just wait. 

Am I done?

Million years flew by, still unnoticed yet never yearned like the first few years. The phase however returned but wholly different this time; longed to be known that she turned cold-blooded, no more the same ardent beast. Well; today in a different habitat, life is serene and airy, no more topsy-turvy to haunt her. 

Silent and silence all-around, a quintessential meaning of paradise for her mini heart yet massive simultaneously. Little things have started to amuse her, no more craving for attention and big things to please her. Did they always want this side of her? Or the opposite? Either way, they gave her nowt but torment as if none of the sides ever satisfied them. Doesn’t matter anymore, lively or lifeless-still out of sight, never a voice came to call her.

“Cold-blooded”

Lying torpefied and iced, an isolated terra.

Recollecting when they came and left with nothing

But insult on their chassis, while some

Still jacose as if callous strange how

At ease after burying and deforming a life.


Now sauntering through Lemaire Channel,

Steep-sided, iceberg-flanked passageway.

Always fancies it.

Uninhabited except her few mates.

Downright cold and dry as if only for her.


Those blue-eyed shags nesting on cliffs,

Humpback whales and Euphausia superba,

Visible whenever she hankers.

Diomedea exulans flying, offering her food.

The only contentment is idolizing Aptenodytes forsteri feeding the infants.


Oft-times visits the exotic coastline fringed by ice shelves.

And reaches the nunataks because well, no resistance.

They applaud and invigorate, after all it’s only her!

None but a dead life too proud to grizzle.

If only they understood, if only they could see inside.


Now Weddell Seals skating on her inner glaciers,

Smile is what she decides to show yet,

Evergreen is the snow, never concurs on melting.

Longing for this state, in this life and beyond,

Sighs. ‘Not anymore’.

Believing that words no longer mean anything, gutsy enough to discover the reality. Lemme tell she’s a threat though a tiny innocuous threat no one has surely found out. They say, try to assure but they don’t know as they never tried, none of it means a thing to her. 

Struggling With Myself!

After hella arduous work the entire night; by and by I cajoled my mind to douse the fire for an hour though it failed to water it utterly but still enough for me to visit the obscure and exotic world I often step into, after all it is all mine. With espresso craving to be drunk filled in my favourite mug in one hand with words ‘About.To.Vanish’ written artistically on it for only me to understand. I managed my frigid toes in my slippers carefully in a way that no toe touched its edges pitifully and once the struggle was done, I was ready to flee. 


It was Sunday afternoon, yet tranquil and inky was home on the spot. I wandered the entire home and finally found her. She was hiding in the most recherche and anomalous place, not even a champion of hide and seek could think of. I didn’t castigate her as it was my delusion. I made her wait for me and I was sorry to have her too late though I was sure I am gonna be forgiven. She is a part of me. 


Achingly and longingly, I toiled to make it to the top of stairs and she was beside me. She said nothing just cursed me for not wearing socks and just a crop top. I slammed her down for being a bitch and not advocating earlier because now I was at a point in my life from where there was no going back. Ultimately I was one step away from the top and I saw her standing there. I bawled at her for always thinking too high when she deserves nothing but despondency and crap. Moments later, I heard her snivelling and felt her warm tears on my arm. I promptly pulled my arm and managed myself to let go of the de trop thoughts. As soon as I thrived, she was nothing but a statue, wholly silent and strong. I was proud of her. She counselled me to sit on a chair I found huckery but I had no other choice. So after opening the door of the roof I sat in front and almost cursed the whole world when repugnant thought of my espresso being cold invaded my mind but then the world was safe, coffee was still warm hehe. After relishing the glacial breeze for a couple of minutes, she stood in front of me and dominated my heart, soul and mind. I was shackled though it felt heavenly. 


After blinking my eye for once; I was there, far into my world, just wandering and ordering, making various decisions and fell several times but stood up whimpering. She helped me in standing up and I was totally in love with how powerful she is. Ignorantly, I kept strolling and falling and later after years I found myself in rain and I was wet.


With my puppy eyes, she hit me savagely and took me inside. Once I stepped on my bed she was gone and I was lifeless. 

Bizarre

Parlous and horrendous, her stomp.

Ill-lit gets thoroughfare, she flows.

Virulent her torso, slayed numerous.

Luscious enough, thaws icebergs.

Yet she disregarded the potential.

Unwitting wholly, stashed in shell.

Hankered forever, but nowt.

Overlooked; shabby, scabrous, knocked by none.

Cicuta Maculata, her name thus,

They steer clear of that micro missile. 

Those footsteps, enough to make Dracula vamoose. Those blazing eyes with each contact narrating a different story, profound and prickling. Stack of tales, unread and beautiful is what her brain contains. A lot to say but she is in self fight, having a war against words and mostly she wins and her silent words dominate the universe. A few ask as if curiosity has kidnapped them and they are at gunpoint. Once known, she becomes fragile as if she is older than Megalithic Temples of Malta. Her figure aches utterly and she bawls. They scourge her and her weakness becomes their utmost power. Thus, silent her portrait is what brings her joie de vivre and ataraxy. 

The Girl She Was..

Ferocious, plucky, frenzied and giving,

Once wild, enraging soul,

Burnt rocks they didn’t know,

Owned hearts until the ONE.
Hell, yearned her pardon.

Orchids and Gazanias, pleaded her clemency.

Ground, quivered as she strutted.

A heart, open, free and enamoured of flying.

Covered in humus; tiny twigs, rotten leaves and warmth, shuddered one day, cleaved the shell gradually until enough for her to get out. 

Later in the arms of loved ones who were proud and owned her in every way. 

Pompous, sophisticated and ravishing are words that defined her. Hardly forgiving but open to the universe, she devastated many. Seas envied her fire as they always failed in their job. No more the same, the girl is hush, at ease trapped in the same shell…

Gone..!

It was eight in the morning; with my body snug and stationary,  my mind deep in the unconscious world fancying the view of the exquisite landscape, totally nonchalant, merry and unaware of the realities of the world. By and by, I got alert a bit late from usual but expectedly, the noise was irksome but then it was time to leave the fairyland. 

As I took off my nighty and flung on the already messed up and chaotic pile of clothes, I felt the air nauseatic and isolated as if only I existed. I felt myself the biggest criminal of all time to be late at funeral. Yeah! It’s something I am least relishing to write about. I miss my Bubby. I am gonna miss his panting for my presence. 

It took forever for me to process the words ‘He is dead’. It still feels illusory, something even my demons would not dare to think about. My planning of all those frolicsome events to adore together huh-all gone. My body is still sore from last night’s ailment but at least my heart was healthy-life once again took my peace, as I always say, it never pities me…..


Lilies, all over alley,

Spreading gloom.

Stuck in sludge; several failed strives, 

This ache, million times less.

The beats in me, moaning.

Thousands passed, as if blind.

On my own, won three steps.

Took forever but thrived.

White into red gown,

Patches looked alluring to them.

Fell, scarcely touching it,

Heard his sob from inside the box.

‘Only if’, he said,

‘Only if’, I replied. 

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