Paramour

From the words of one of the most beautiful person I know....

I want the things that he doesn't do for me, have always wanted them even before meeting him. My anger or sorrow means nothing to him at times. He's detached, he's strong, the kind of person who when you see, you know he won't change for anyone, not at all.
I always knew myself to be strong adamant and demanding , but yet his presence in person or may be even just in my thoughts makes me loose myself, makes me forget who I am, I just give in. For those moments every other thought, every care in the world is gone from my mind. Just that one thought, one question haunts me at that time, Why?
Why am I involved, engrossed , lost, intoxicated with him.
After a long time I have met someone who stimulates me physically, mentally, intellectually. And I love the high that this gives me. The only fault in this otherwise perfect thing  is that he stimulates me emotionally too. Every word he says, everything he does around me somehow matters to me, a lot. I would never have thought that I would ever see that as a problem, but it is when you know you are just another girl he wants to be with right now and that it means nothing more to him than that.
I can't blame him for that though. It harldy ever happens that two ppl feel the same things, the same emotions, the same urge to just have the other person around. And that is just impossible when things start so casually, so impulsively, just randomly. I have never even tried to tell him how I feel... 

Ecstasy

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Just a taste of the elixir
and they fall like an open book
A couple of glasses makes them loose
all sense of time and place...
loosing themselves like falling in love,
an insatiable desire for it.

They lift the spirit for their much awaited ensconce.
The clinking of glasses offering an excursion into another dimension.
Little do they know the darkness that lay beyond their fading selves.
Preferring to stay unenlightened to better appreciate the dark.

Each moment awakens a deep buried fear,
a guilty remorse or perhaps another thunderous laugh.
Issues of the mortal world smoked between puffs and blown out in a heap of ash.

Promises that could never be made (within the limits of the three dimensions) materialize.
Limits of trust and faith stretch beyond their selves.
Like having a first friend, getting your first crush, first love, first kiss...
magic flows through their veins and throbs between their heart beats.

As it burns through their throat, ripping open their chest,
detaching from the under world and placing them next to the gods of men.
Wildest of dreams running through their forest reach a clearing,
sun burnt desires roaming the desert find their oasis.

Every glass promises a step closer to reality.
Their reality.
That lay oblivious to the sane and the conscious.
It is perhaps this reality of dreams and delusions,
this path of wavering steps and intimate promises that keeps them coming for more...
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Catharsis

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Her dance continued....

while I watched the marbled floor turn red
"hope" is a sweet poison!
I waited like a frog in boiling water..
to come to terms with the rising temperature

The blows kept getting harsher
Her weapons of choice getting deadlier
Every wound was gushing red
The paintings watched...
as she threatened to exsanguinate me

The dying self respect...
heaved its last cry
Like a dying man's last breath
unable to say its last goodbye..
twitches every muscle for an ounce of strength

I dashed out the door
with no where to go
She had been my caretaker
That room had been my tomb
Outside...I was deserted
An island uninhabited inspite of all its beauty..

And so the fire burned...
with heaving jungles and roaring rivers
The flames kissed my wounds
I knew they would destroy a part of me
But they will also cauterize...

I returned one last time..
Not to watch her dance
she was gone
But only to burn those paintings
and the silken curtains
with their horrified glances

As each painting burnt..
I heard its cry in crackling fire
I felt its pain in its greenish-blue despair
And then its peace as it turned to ash...

Bit by bit....each memory came
and submitted itself to the flames
Each sleepless night gathered around
and was offered its purgation.
I left the smoldering ruins
meandering through the rivers...escaping to  the ocean...
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Hypnotic eyes

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Dressed to kill..
Comfortably carrying her awe inspiring beauty
A subtle angelic smile and hypnotic eyes..
Such profound words begin to describe her
and yet they merely glide over the surface to what she truly is..

Leaves turning brown...blowing in d romantic autumn breeze..
Gliding past me like smoke on water....she caught my imagination
With grace in every step like a ballet dancer on stage..
Eyes like a curious child searching for a new story, a new experience
Cheeks matching the reddish hue of her sweater
And a smile that could light up the world..

She entered my world

I was invisible to her....like all other mortals
But I felt her eyes land on me and then pass through me
Stripping me and tearing me apart..
I felt drawn to her like falling in the middle of a whirlpool...
she being the center of that universe

Her hearty laugh would make my heart jump
with a caffeine induced like euphoria.
Hypnotic grey eyes consumed me bit by bit

Her crazy demands engulfed me

I was her friend, her paramour

She would approach me like the sweet morning dew
Awaken me from my dreams or perhaps help me enter another dimension..

Where my name on her lips would sound
so intoxicating that I would reach over to taste it...

A thousand things I would want to say to her
and a thousand things I would want to hear
But none as sweet as the few that she would never say....
a few that I would never hear...
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Words for thought..

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Ever thought about the thoughts we have?
Wondered if “differently abled” people have thoughts just the way we do.
Or if animals and other life forms have a similar thought procedure?

It often occurs to me that every thought I have is in a language that I speak. Conversely, if it so happened that I knew no language or was otherwise incapable of learning a means to communicate, would I still have the same thoughts? or worse, would I still have thoughts at all...??

It is known that people who are blind by birth are incapable of having dreams with images. Then is it possible that if a person who never learns any means to communicate would cease to have any thoughts or imagination whatsoever?

Language, it now seems is actually one of the greatest of man’s creation. Or perhaps it was created because man needed it to express himself and widen his conscious.

Either way, it seems theoretically possible that if someone gains enough power to modify language at the basic root level, that person would have the power to control the very thoughts of every person. It would prove to be a much more powerful and dominating weapon ever imagined. The very thought of retaliating against such power can be eliminated by eliminating the word retaliation and all its synonyms from the language.

The human mind can be forced (without it even knowing) to have a very limited number of thoughts in a very limited expanse defined by the language itself. If words are destroyed and the language is cut to the very bone, verbs and adjectives erased, antonyms and synonyms made obsolete, the entire literature would simply cease to exist as we know. All great thinkers and writers like Byron, Tennyson, Chaucer, Milton, Shakespeare would have wasted their lives in their pursuit of expression.

Thoughts and expressions are results of individualism and eccentricity. If language is made rigid and enforced within a realm of defined parameters, the expression would succumb to the limits of vocabulary which defines the range of thoughts that an individual can have. The inborn eccentricity in humans would eventually cease to exist, making us no better than any other organism inhabiting the planet.

The vagueness of language, apart from giving a wider horizon to express, in itself generates the ideas of puns and humour. If antonyms and synonyms are made obsolete, nouns are removed and the “shades of words” eliminated. If only one extreme word is kept housing its other extreme in itself (by prefixing a negative word), the range of thought can be limited. So many professions made redundant. Making the vocabulary smaller would slowly limit the range of thought making it impossible to express oneself thus ultimately preventing any thought (outside the language barrier) to occur at all.

Language would eventually become like mathematics, absolute and clear. Where every “needed” concept can be defined in a single word and every “optional” concept is eliminated from language and finally from ever existing.
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Requiem

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A log of discarded wood.

That was all it ever was.

Lying in a lush green meadow,

flowers blooming all around it.

The soft breeze of spring would

brush past it and tickle it playfully.

Its days would go dreaming of the time

it was a majestic tree in this very place.

He would bear juicy fruits for the weary and the hungry.

Spread out its branches sprinkled with leaves

and sway them around in the playful breeze

offering relief to the men and animals from the hot summer sun.

It was a glorious time of life.

Friends and family would lay under its shade,

children would climb its highest of branches and

pluck the most unreachable fruits

as it would bear them in its arms like its own.

Squirrels would store their nuts in its body

and it would keep them safe like little secrets.

Lying in the sun like an ancient war hero,

eyes with a fleeting glint of the grand history

they endured but the body wrinkled and withered by the sun and the rain.

Years of storms had left it weak but

they had been unable to take its pride away.

All its life, everyone drew nourishment, relief, strength

and love from it till they skinned it to its bone,

took its heart out and hacked its limbs away

for their selfish motives.

They uprooted it from the very place

where it was born and raised with love and care,

where it spread itself and blossomed the meadow

and adorned it and where it will now be buried

and consumed till every bit of its body has given strength to a new life.
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I wish for Morpheus...

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She was no more than an ordinary girl. Far from the sort of company he prefers...or atleast he believed so. That first conversation changed everything. He was still the same without her but her presence used to bring a phenomenal change in his very being that even he acknowledged. She never knew his other self personally, only a few of his stories from the past had casually introduced them. Stories he didn't even believe himself to be true (in her presence).

Their texting would stretch till late at night. Somnus alone seemed to have the power to stop that. Every morning he would wake just to meet her, imagining a million things he would talk about. Things they didn't get time to discuss in texts. Things of no particular importance but yet seemingly essential.
But, the conversations would rather be quite. The pauses were not awkward, though they struggle to find the same rhythm in speaking that was already present in written exchanges, often switching from one language to another. She would sometimes jokingly suggest texting even in presence of each other. The incredulous fact would often occur to him how shy he feels in the presence of someone he knows so well. She on the contrary, would explicitly demand her rights on him and would ask for things he considered reserved only for himself.

Their meeting would send charges of energy in air, ripping through him. He would imagine reaching over and touching her, hugging her maybe...but tends to play with his restless hands instead. Unsure how she might react, hesitant of shattering this beautiful dream, fearful of disturbing the delicate camaraderie they have been building. He would prefer to steal glances instead, watching as light falls on her skin, her broad smile and the hearty laughs they would share. He would find her doing the same at times, their eyes would meet but such moments are too sublime.

He would chase her like a love sick puppy. Shadowing and complimenting every move she makes. Feeling lost when she isn't around, irritated and deserted when his texts were not reciprocated. Fearfully expressing it sometimes, trying to stay within the realm of established parameters.

The hesitation and fear decided to let her make the first move, always living with a lurking feeling that she might be having the same thoughts as well. Her childish playfulness, the occasional and seemingly joking indifference to his romantic advances always kept him feeling like a paramour...
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water water everywhere...not a drop it rained

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Water streams pouring on me
Falling like beads from my hair
Like an army of ants...
They march to my shoulder and once again coalesce
Only to be divided into streams once again
Running down to my feet
Falling to the floor..

I can see my skin getting wet
Bursts of mist rising from where it had been
But its warmth does not seem to engulf me
The cold whiffs of air that remind me..
How warm it had felt were also lost
Like it had never touched me
But still managed to run rampant over me

My hands try to contain it
Push it back and forth
Trying to move it all over my body
Expecting that it would atleast..
Make me feel cold......if not warm

Begging it to stay
Even after its purpose was lost
It just slips through my hands
Parts of it are left lingering on me
But they are already leaving
And soon would be gone..

I am still standing there......waiting...
For the one who stripped me off
Violated me
And left me untouched
Still waiting for that one lingering drop
Running down my leg
Even for that smoke of mist
That would reach for the ceiling and disappear
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Confessions of an insomniac

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Exiting from that room with purpled floor and dyed curtains, I began picturing that spotless white marble floor and those angelic silks that draped from the windows when I first entered it. Her enigmatic beauty seemed to radiate from every corner of the room. Every painting on the wall was priceless. None painted by some famous artist but nonetheless had their significance in that house. Paintings someone would die for to adorn their houses with. Paintings which now reeked of horror and violence they had witnessed recently.

I had entered such rooms before and never ever paid any attention to such paintings, flooring and beautiful decorations. Perhaps, I never knew what this experience was until then. And I definitely never felt the way I do now. Living in the awe of this beauty for so long had made me feel possessive about it. I believed that I own it, deserve it in every respect. I had forgotten all my past sins. The sins that forbade me from even being close to such a place. The sins which sublimed in the pure presence of this energy. Well....atleast I thought that they had....

The demons had never left. Nine times they tried and each time I escaped like a cat. They knew I had no more lives left and came for a final blow. Plotting in ways known only to the most devious of species. They led me to my own piece of personal hell. Awed by the beauty I had only felt in dreams. Simplicity, only limited by my imagination. And purity and love radiating and ripping through my body and soul. I walked into my own torture chamber at free will.

She danced around like a ruthless assassin. Stabbing at all the right places, piercing the statue that lay at her mercy. I relished every blow in a masochistic desire for pleasure. Every sin had come to witness this murder. Every sleepless night that had gone by, came to haunt me. Self respect was hacked like limbs from my body. Strength was caving in. The blood-shed I witnessed had left me begging for peace. The violence of every blow, blood oozing from every gaping wound, skin ripped off like clothes from my body. Mercy was a privilege I didn’t deserve coz I never had it for anyone else. I had become accustomed to such blood stained floors from the time when I used to dance like her. Every wailing cry I never heard, now rang in my ears all night. Every pain I ever caused was being returned to me. I begged for the eternal sleep but even that was denied.

Many a times like today, I had decided to exit this tomb. My body is free to move, the doors offering me the escape with arms wide open. Many a times like today, I dragged my incapacitated self across the stained hall and to the door. Many a times like today, I had tried to escape. And every time like today, I had realised that this is where I belong because she is the one who still loves me and would always want to be with me inspite of all my incapacities. She is my care-taker and my under-taker who would finally offer me my sleep...
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Angel of Death

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Dressed in seductive white
Her enigma ripping through me
Like the most obvious truth,
A truth I find hard to agree to.
Denying all logic and reason.

The most beautiful and yet
The most terrifying mistress.
Her embrace...inescapable,
Her love...irresistible,
Her plan...flawless.

Embraced by some,
Celebrated by few and
Feared by others...
She is the only certainty
The only truth to rely on..

She silently waits for me
Loving me for my ignorance
Admiring me for my courage
Hanging on like a spider to her bait
She would take me away..

Her persistence always pays
My defenses would eventually fall for her
Entering her is like....a peaceful sleep
Like the world is beautiful again
Only it doesn’t really matter anymore

She opens the doors to eternity
Promising me my freedom
Untying the weight dragging me down
the weight of life and relations
Freeing me even from herself...

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The first Kiss...

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Our hands touched and she reacted
arousing a hunger within.
Hands held tight trying to contain that fire
but the distance between fueling it.

Moving closer turned it to an inferno.
Reason was left somewhere behind.
On this ecstatic ride,
we were losing ourselves...

Scent of her hair filling me up.
Smothering her,
my crude hands were hurting her
but we didn't seem to care.

Her touch bursting me open.
Hearts racing, lips running dry
touched like a dying man
reaching for life...

Gnawing like animals,
tongues swiveling like snakes,
fighting for our share on the other.
An insatiable desire.

I was
Inhaling her, consuming her...
The aphrodite herself provoking us.
Till the Ausōs appeared.

Burning like a poisoned person
she turned me cold like dead.
Her weight in my lap kept me from crashing.
Crashing into insanity.

Maybe she was winning...
Maybe I wanted to loose...
but it wasn't a war
It was just a new voyage
a new adventure...
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day after day....

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Regular,

Mundane,

Monotonous...

These define his life. No adventure everyday, no lurking dangers at every step...nothing like a movie seen or a story told.

What keeps it going are these daily chores and brick-a-brack.

Waking up to an irritating alarm,

Rushing through breakfast to get to work on time,

Complaining about life,

A romantic evening with his love,

And those regular fights over petty things...

And yet he goes satisfied and content to his bed at night.

Everyone despises him and yet...

They all carry a part of him.

He is the face to their harsh reality

The reality they try to dissolve...

In fake laughs of achievements,

Merry making,

And their adventures (so called).

But he enjoys it all

His every day is a struggle,

Like the great war...

A war against himself,

Day after day...going through the same routine

He wakes up to his monotonous life

Coz yet again its just another day...

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The Island

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Seated right between the entire world,

There it was...

Oblivious to its surroundings.

Ever evolving,

Ever changing like all others.

Yet somehow invisible to all...

Maintaining its sanctity.

That was its life...

That was its destiny.

Visitors would visit and leave...

They would always leave it untouched

Unstirred by the winds

Unscathed by the storms...

She was its bridge

Its only contact to the living...

To the other side...

To the reality (as we believe).

She had touched its soil...

Felt its waters,

Inhaled its air,

Consumed it bit by bit....

The masochistic fool was in love....

In love with a bridge,

A feeble connection to the lie outside,

The lie called reality...

Still unaware of its truth,

Unknown to its own condition.

It was an island afterall,

Destined to stay between everyone yet away from ‘em. . . . .

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☺•☺•☺•☺

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You've been around since years
but i never knew you...
Today I brought a paper to you
and there you are...
split into these beautiful words

I'm overwhelmed with these ______
struggling to keep them in..
Failing myself with every effort
I'm like an adamant kid.

I've always been so intense but
its frustrating coz i fail to understand it.
Your presence a sweet drug to me,
this simplicity intoxicates me...

You turn my abilities to rust...
Never ever have i lost such self-control
You support me at my WORST
and claim me at my BEST...

My strength is caving in
my fortress falling to dust
and i rejoice like a madman
for this "nakedness" you've brought me to....

You've hacked me in two
One reaching out to you and
the other pulling it back...
I wish I could save you from...
from this beast inside of me..
I wish I could render it harmless..
I wish I could _______
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The untouched WHORE

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I am despised by all
and yet they all come looking for me
they yearn for my presence
and I know exactly what they seek for...

I am their guide,
their friend,
their enemy and their mentor
all at once...

Their 'lust' is my playground
their misfortunes.....my allies.
Their vulnerability is my weapon
and that 'experience'.....their prize.

I am the wise one
and yet the one sold like a commodity.
My knowledge gained from vile ways
of no avail to the world
My body served to their aphrodisiac hunger.

Libidos served, and bodies exhausted...
they all leave me 'untouched'.
Every man reveals his darkness
and then comes back to me like an addict...

Their violence is all i deserve
my bruises and wounds unscathed by LOVE
Their wild beings, projected on me
I still am the "untouched" whore....
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public transport to HELL

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Public transport has become a common means to commute for an Indian, specially the buses. These 4 wheeler cuboidal vehicles are found stuffed with people. Their doors and windows clanging together produce the music during the adventurous ride along with the driver's "favourites" playing full volume on the stereo system on board.

I recently had an experience of the most adventurous vehicle on indian roads.

The journey started from my home-town bus stop on a nice chilly morning. The man in khaki standing outside the  bus was shouting his guts off, calling out to travellers. As I approached him, he pushed me inside the bus without even listening to my destination. For an instance, I had a feeling I was being kidnapped..!!

The 7 hour journey made me realize every possible human emotion i could ever have. Most of it was full of frustration and anger but every feeling made its appearance, some even made their debut..!!

It started with the long wait for the bus to start off....
Probably the bus driver did not share the enthusiasm with which the bus conductor pushed me into the bus. The urgency with which I was ushered into the bus made me feel like I was boarding Noah's ark and that the world was about to end. But probably Noah (i mean the bus driver ;-) ) was busy at some tea stall sipping tea.

Well,
To start with, my anxiety level was building up waiting for the driver door to open and the driver to get seated. Steadily, as I waited for which seemed like eternity, I reached to the peak of my emotions where i could no longer stay seated in a bus that probably was going no where. Just as I was about to disembark, the door opened with a jolt and a head popped up to the driver seat. I guess from his years of experience in the field, he knew exactly when the passengers would get fed up from sitting in the bus, so that he could pop up at the right moment like a Saviour.

But, probably that wasn't the end of his little game and our misery. He seemed to enter the bus only because he was probably tired of standing near the tea stall. As, the passengers wondered what he was doing sitting idle, he started praying to the pictures of the deities he had stuck in-front of him. And only after making sure of the fact that we were anxious enough to even start a civil war did he revved up the engine to life.
The vibrating frame of the bus underneath us made our faces glow even brighter than the SUN. We felt like

               "Bus once started is half the journey travelled"

But, little did we know that it was just the start of something much more excruciating than that.

The bus had started almost 30 minutes late than the expected time. But that was not all. As soon as we hit the highway, I noticed that almost every kind of vehicle on the road was overtaking us. For a moment it occurred to me that we had stopped again but the slowly moving buildings on each side of the road kept me from jumping out of the window.

There was a noisy one year old with my co-passenger who was constantly crying out for milk, food, toys and at times for apparently no reason at all. But his crying was not the only annoying sound around me, somehow the clanging of the window panes of the bus added to the cacophony and made it even more unbearable. Just as I  thought my head would burst open and my brains would spill all over the place, the driver turned on the sound system. Like it wasn't enough already, the blaring music of the "driver's favorites" added exponentially to the crying and the clanging. I found myself searching for unconsciousness....

I have no idea for how long the cacophony continued, I guess I passed out, like most of the other passengers when I couldn't take it any longer.

When I regained my consciousness, the bus had halted in front of a food joint along the highway. My first thought was to shoot out of the bus and run for my life. I somehow, suppressed my instincts and got down slowly just to check out the place.

It was a nice place to eat and drink with a few shops for gifts and stationery and an ATM. After all I had just gone through, this place seemed to me like an "oasis" in a desert.
But like all good things have to come to an end, the conductor's whistle marked an end of my stay in this "oasis". I was supposed to embark the same dreaded vehicle again. I got on board again like I was on a suicidal mission......

The clanging started again but to my relief, the child seemed to enjoy his ride now and even the driver seemed to be in no mood for the "music". I had almost tuned myself into the clanging by now so it didn't bother me anymore. Now that I felt out of danger, I was worried bout reaching my destination on time. I started planning the rest of my day.

I was still lost in thought when a strange high pitched sound made me jump like a young bronco coming out of a chute for the first time. The bus had entered a city and the sound was that of a "bus to bus salesman". He was apparently selling some multi-utility, easy to use, juicer. His way of describing the product and giving out promises like it was the best season's sale ever was typical. After him, more of similar kind boarded the bus with products and promises and each one of them had the similar tone to their voice. It was almost like a hallmark. The range of products they came with was almost as impressive as their promises.


It was almost 6 hours since I had boarded the bus and I had completely lost track of time ( even if I ever had any ). The bus driver seemed to not care for the small watch on his console at all and probably thats why it showed no movement now. That stopped watch somehow seemed metaphorical to me.


As we moved on I wondered if the world outside was still the same as I had left it when I decided to undertake this ride. I hopelessly prayed that time had stopped there too. My associate who was supposed to meet me at the other end was getting worried and restless as the watch showed an hour of delay and still no sign of me. Soon, my cell phone began to ring furiously as I received a rather annoyed and worried call from the other side. I helplessly explained my plight which was almost immediately considered but was never acknowledged. I was continuously tortured by frantic calls every 15 minutes telling me to hurry up (like it was in my hands...).

My anger level rose with each call and I was angry at almost everything in sight. Everything seemed to mess up my trip and ultimately my entire day. Our cursed vehicle of HELL reached about an hour and a half late with tired and somewhat frightened passengers swearing never to ride a bus again in their entire life span on this planet.

As for me, after this long and tiresome journey that seemed to almost last a few lifetimes, I finally reached my destination but with almost no spirits left to do all the stuff I had planned on my ride. I was received by a fuming person cursing almost all authorities and ultimately the government of INDIA for the delay of a bus. But I had more important things to think of right now......I was thinking of the shortest way to reach a hotel and grab a bed so that I can fall off to sleep. Somehow, I kept feeling like I would wake up shouting at some point of time and find out that it was all a nightmare but god didn't grant me that luxury....
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riding my way into the unknown...

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the night came closer...
mortals returning back home
but we waited with anticipation
the dark kingdom threatened to engulf the world
and i wasn't the saviour

my sole companion roared and revved
as we tread onto the path into the unknown
the deathly silence around us greeted its crazy guests
not a single soul was in sight
the highway lit by my companion's lights

the chilly wind tore into my clothes
but i didn't feel it
the heat within was too strong
perhaps the wind just saved me
from getting burnt by my own heat...

the monotonous roar of the engine,
the lonely speck of light on the highway,
marked my territory
and it kept moving on...

i wasn't thinking
i wasn't feeling
maybe i was alive...but death wasnt far behind

all i could hear was the angry roar of the engines
all i could smell was the burning of the tarmac
all i could feel was the wind ripping through me

i died that night...
the lucifer* revealed to the world
what was left of me
what was left of my companion

it too died with me that night
it wasn't my way of transportation that night
it was my soulmate
it was my way of living...
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*lucifer - morning star
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EROTICA-69

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That night felt special,
we were together as it had always been.
That embrace with the touch of rose.
The faint scent filled me up
with a moistened mark.

I couldn't help but reciprocate...
and it got heated with each contact.
The sensation changed positions,
exploring the exotic each time.

The veils were disappearing.
Her hands ruffled my hair.
We were doing our best...
but we never got enough of each other.

My hands sent chills down her spine,
and those gasps were choking her.
Nails dug deeper into my back,
and fibers sublimed in that intense heat
as our dry souls touched wet grounds.

That passion made our mouths run dry.
my hand glided over her...
touching her...arousing her.
The movements quickened...
it was a like a dance we had always done together.

Rain poured like sweat,
We danced till the lucifer appeared in the sky
and the grass outside got wet with dew.
It was a state of ecstasy.

The pace quickened,
as the end was near.
It was like a giant wave passing...and riding it.
But was it really the end??
Or perhaps, a beginning of something new...
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Its FRIDAY the 13th

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Its FRIDAY the 13th...
Hail and rejoice..!!
the undertaker will soon walk on you...

Let this day be lucky for you.
as the angels are banished to hell...
the devils will serve u with rotten flesh

chaos and confusion envelope the world...
may you feel cold and gloomy in this blanket
as the world ends in a holocaust..!!

your worst fears are being realized
hail and rejoice...once again
its FRIDAY the 13th..

the good is interred with bones and flesh
seek the terror and the evil
let deceit be your king
and pain be its son..

shame sublimes as wrath becomes your weapon
let the bodies hit the purpled floor
in honour of those who treasoned...
let the DEAD hail and rejoice
its FRIDAY the 13th again...
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rememberance...

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My passion was reciprocated in her.

This bond makes me whole within this incompleteness.

The craving has always been there...

like smoking the grass...this marijuana in my blood.

The desperation slowly taking over me...

My days....incomplete without our long talks.

But do we talk much..??

Perhaps it would never be enuff..

It has never been..!!

Desires insatiable, needs gaping...

and a handful of togetherness.

Soon, time would become a thrifty miser.

Do the ANGELS guide us??

Or has the DEVIL done its deed??

But wherever it heads us....its a one way street..!!

This distant reality....

naked in our faces..!

This love,

this desperation,

and the wholesome INCOMPLETENESS....

has taken over the ages.

The fights and tears..

the crazy times.

Senseless chit-chats..stupid arguments.

Now it bothers me as the time runs scarce.

Our parallel paths...

may keep us together.

or else the worst is anticipated..!!

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LOVE

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They say LOVE makes you achieve miracles.It can make you transcend your own limitations, make you feel at ease even at the most difficult of times...You reach out to people and spread it like a disease.It makes you feel euphoric..!!It works just like magic..!!

Then why is it that at times that same LOVE makes you feel scared of your own-self? Scared of the people who care for you. You run away and try to avoid them...You lie in your bed waiting for some miracle to happen....knowing the fact that it won't happen without you being there...

You want to reach out to every person you know but it STOPS you..It breaches its own boundaries and the "tables are turned".

You hate yourself for being what you are and for doing what you did but even that doesn't make you retrace your steps while you still can...

Its like a clock......ticking.....waiting and anticipating for the worst to happen....for your most feared nightmare to come true and throw your life into chaos, apathy and a prolonged GLOOM...

Its like a paranoia but somehow...it still retains its name : "LOVE" but then......Is it still LOVE that keeps you from "loving"..??
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Passion..!!

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Passion makes a person stop eating, sleeping, working, feeling at peace. A lot of people are frightened because, when it appears, it demolishes all the old things it finds in its path. No one wants their life thrown into chaos. That is why a lot of people keep that threat under control.

Other people think exactly the opposite: they surrender themselves without a second thought, hoping to find in passion the solutions to all their problems. They make the other person responsible for their happiness and blame them for their possible unhappiness.
They are either euphoric because something marvellous has happened or depressed because something unexpected has just ruined everything.

Keeping passion at bay or surrendering blindly to it – which of these two attitudes is the least destructive?
I don’t know...
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