The waning and the waxing of the moon. The darkness and light of subdued nature, a bit of happiness and a bit of gloom.
The stain on the wall. The cup by the sink. The smudge on the carpet. The stained spot on my shirt. A thread from the yarn. The dust on the lamp. Broken wing of the fan. The twig from a nearby tree. The lost leaf from the courtyard. The crack on the windowpane. The scratch on the painted door. The scar on the cemented floor. The dislodged hinge of the wardrobe. The creaking of the toilet door. The grim on the cooking range. The left-overs from the last night's dinner. The tassels on the fan. The cobwebs on the wall. The strewn cotton from the mattress. The lost pearl from the necklace. A loose stitch on the evening gown. The disgruntled zipper on my denim shorts. The last drop in the juice jar. The last of coriander leaves in the refrigerator. The line of ants in the kitchen. The moss in the fishbowl. A spoonful of washing powder in the sachet. The unbuttoned washing machine. The broken sling of the sack. The karaoke of a dead singer. The broken string of my guitar. The lost tune of my song.
The last alphabet in a word. The last word in a sentence. The last sentence in a paragraph. The last paragraph in a story. The last story of my Life. The last life of my nine lives...
10:30 pm
6th April, 2oo6
Ahmedabad-Mumbai : Gujarat Mail
8 reactions:
love it....u r back!!!
Thanks. Would appreciate if you leave a name behind
hey... glad 2 c u writing again! :)gr8 stuff!
here's some more thoughts... reply..
absence makes the heart grow crazier... its like a constant trip.. everything is intensified...
a randomness of order, a swapping of emotions...
the distances make me want 2 fight more 4 what is mine... what i miss..
but im fighting against a part of myself to complete another part of me... how ironical..*
its a mind fucking experience... never felt this way before.. never thought this day wd come.... all my little elves are making merry by mutilating me...!
blood label on the rocks is my new drink, i eat and i feel like im tearing my flesh out, i walk and im stomping my eyeballs, i knot my shoelaces only to realise that its really my veins, i breathe and im poisoning my own, i exist and i sin.
suddenly it feels too close for comfort.. where did the distance go??? i thought it was far? why then does the disturbed breath of another miles away become my cyanide?
they say the world is round... so is everything else that creates or destroys,
if creation = destruction, life = death, me = you, then why is it not as simple as it seems? have i gone blind? i guess i destroyed my eyes somewhere along the way...
to exist is to be.. a vaccum?
* energy can neither be created, nor be destroyed, only transferred from one form to another...?!?!?
Hey - I have no clue you are but you have some stuff that left me .. lets say mindnumb..
So what you want me to reply ??
ya.. whats ur response? i've seen what ur capable of!
to maintain my anonymity... refer to me as Y.
That's nice. But I still would prefer to connect to my reader ...
I would definitely try and reply in my next post... of course, I need to be drunk as hell to think .. dark...
Y will be best.
Activite the alcohol in your body... and you will not need any external substances to reach the true depths of your creativity...
All the best! Happy Writing... :)
- Y
Ok no questions asked and no replies to seek.
Have a great night and yes happy writing. I am obliged.
P.S: Now I shall get back to you with a new post :)
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