Always. And Forever

I pick myself off the floor, and then you tell me, I’m done with you. You don’t realize the blood all over your hands, was this all a part of your plans? I love you, I hate you, I just can’t live without you. I hear voices in my head, telling me don’t be so blind. But then I guess I’m done with you and I still don’t quite get it.
Never. Quite.
The whispers grow incessant. And as I walk out of the door, all I can hear is the same. I ask you even as the sounds grow louder. And curiously, they all resemble the slamming of doors. In all directions, of glass shattering and imploding in on me. I instinctively raise my hands to ward off the exploding shards, then I realize it’s just me. And nothing all around for miles. I need to come to terms with this shroud of solitude being wrapped around my consciousness. And I concur in silence. That I’m done with you, aye.

- Inspired by Always (International Radio Edit): Saliva (Alternative Rock)

Falling. Falling......

Just hold your breath.
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you……Over again.
Don't make me change my mind
Lest I never be the same again.

Oh How I wish things weren’t so.
How I wish I were stronger.
And that incessant voice in my head which keeps telling me, I told you so!
Would just shut up for a while.

What’s wrong with me? I don’t know. I wouldn’t know.
Just hold your breath tonight. And now breathe in so deep.
So you breathe me in.
And keep me in forever.
And ever.......

The Quandary

You need to focus all the misguided energy in the right direction, lest you burn yourself up pining away over broken hearts and missed promises.
I plunged myself back into that beautiful imaginary world of gunslingers and phantoms and demons. I gave myself up on that road to the dark tower, to die in the company of brave Roland Deschain and his Ka-tet, in the quest for his mystic Dark Tower and to die protecting the beautiful red rose. The forlorn patch of land between 42nd and 43rd avenue in New York.
I took to writing with a passion. I finish a chapter on the pirate lords at sea, come back to my hero Jake’s days of glory at Emerald Isle. And here I’m stumped. Coz it’s all about the roaring passion between Jake and the only girl he ever loved, Alice that I needtcha pen now/ and I laugh at Ka. The cruel joke that Ka has pulled on me. Here was I, trying hard to get out from an unbelievably beautiful five years of my life, where I thought I was in love, but now have understood it all to be an imaginary phase of my previous life where I was bombed out of my skull on ‘love’ and sugar-pie nothings whispered into my ears!! And I was supposed to wax eloquent about the one emotion which I had so foolishly pursued with relentless passion, all the while chasing a ghost. L
Do you understand the depth of ironical quandary I’m in? I cannot move on. I need to face the ghosts. I need to flesh out the love story between Jake and his girl. The one who dies later on. Ah! There I shall redeem myself. In the death of Jake’s love/ but before we reach the juicy gory details of Alice’s merciless murder, I need to plough through the dreary fake lands of whispered nothings and hollow promises Jake and Alice exchange with each other. Oh Lord, lend me flight through these islands of make-believe!

The Dreary Existence

They say pain makes you wax eloquent.
Buoyed by such confidence in the wisdom of the crowd (in MBA jargon, they would have called it the Tribal Wisdom!) I try my hands yet again at blogging.
Ah, but where’s the pain you say?
The worse ones ain’t physical, and cut deep. I’m now reminded of a metaphor I drew a long time back, before my hands were singed and burned by the disease called Love. A toddler who’s been led by hand on a steep incline uphill and now left all alone to fend for himself. Naturally, Jack came tumbling down. Jill ran away with Naali Ka Keeda.

And now I’m Jack’s broken heart.
Cheated. Hurt like never before. Vulnerable. Helpless. In anguish. An angry ugly purple welt in the place that hurts the most, a patch that rankles like hell. For being taken on the trip of my lifetime.
Yeah, I ought not stretch your sympathy too much, eh? For someone who pledged oaths for a life-time with me, all it took was one strong realization a fine blue morning. And out came the fangs. Pulled all the plugs of my life away, leaving me stumped and stupefied on the ground, without having realized what hit me. I’m still trying to find my frame of reference and decode the mangled up remains of life. 42 ain’t really very consoling an answer you know. It runs deeper yet. And I’m still digging.

I miss a lot of things in my new life. I cannot help reflect on the bitter sweet irony of almost all the songs that I listen to, because at a past point in my life, all of it held beautiful promises and were pregnant with meaning. Now they sound like gibberish and I can only smile in riposte. Oh How I hate love songs. I cannot bear to look up at the beautiful gibbous moon wreathed in smiley lines. Ridiculous, you say? Trust me; wait until you fall in love. Clichéd, and yet I cannot forgo making this dig, now I know why they call it ‘falling’ in love! J And yet, the new life comes easy to me. Probably because I’m away from where most of the action had happened. I’m actually living the good life at home now. Books, music, movies, food, love (yeah, it has multiple hues, you idiot!) I’m content being the icon of extreme self-indulgence at home before I start back on the corporate rat race. Worse news again, my joining has been postponed by a week again. Damn! Welcome to thassophobic heartbroken existence for a little while longer !