Symphony

If I could write you a sonnet, I would translate the words into a melody,

If I could write you a verse, I would dry the oceans with my ink,

But as we fornicate and life fucks us over

My words fall short and become a few feeble grunts.

I dream about the days in the woods, the sun flooded your hair,

I day dreamt with the parchment in my hand, I would create a symphony.

The symphony unwind in my mind, the mind which never betrayed me.

Today again I am short of words as we lie together on the white soiled sheets, 

I hear the symphony in your breaths, Didn't I say?

My mind never betrayed me. 

-Ex.

Lost yet pretentious

The idea of cigarettes, is intoxicating to me. They provide such buzz, it's probably because it is something I do and be a person who is different from the real time me. Real time me, who may not necessarily be the real me, but there isn't much need to spell such things out.

When the smoke hits the throat, it burns with a weak tinge. Maybe its a newbie thing, but I have gotten used to the aftertaste. the smoke as it escape my lips, form a cloud and I walk through that living a dream, a short alternate reality, so ephemeral, such an evanescent sense of high it gives me, that bleak little puff.

The nights, I remember sitting on top of a roof or another, puffing in, dragging on and not worry about the threats of the future, the clashes of the titan downstairs in which  I am a meager Pawn. I pawn who had dreamt of  one to checkmate the white king, but stands here, insignificant and to be sacrificed without a blink of the eye.

The roof is a wonderful place, it lets you be. It is undisturbed and it welcomes me in spite of me being lost, having nothing to show for myself, it doesn't care. It hugs me anyway. I cradle into its lap and smoke away thinking about the days when my glory was my addiction and my mistake. I floated half of my life and I continue to float away most of my sober days, my guarding angle has stopped tsking her tongue and she has moved over to the next more probable for success candidate. And I, I sit here in the lap of this roof or the other, being intoxicated by the idea of life and the transcendence it my success.  

Drunk Dog

DATE: 17^TH OCT

When did I lose my way? When did I lose my will? When did I really become a lost cause? Is there an important date I can’t remember? Maybe an event which slipped my mind as I walked away from a party. When did it happen, I can’t seem to locate my soul on this land anymore. The vibrant and almost flamboyant self walked out on and I slept on it, stupidly.

There was little I could do, that’s what I kept telling myself. Still tell myself, there wasn’t anything I could do. There has been so much telling and listening that the sounds in my head are a blurred buzz. Which doesn’t really mean anything anymore?

Have you ever seen a drunken dog? It’s the happiest. Just wagging its tail and running around with its tongue out. They eyes glazed as he ran from one corner to another and as elation reduces, the sleep slips inside and there is no need for anything else. He practically floats through the whole thing and worries about nothing. That I what I am doing right now. I am the drunken dog. I have been drunk and now I am sleeping, sleeping in spite of the worries, in spite of the tragedies around, and I have a smile pasted across my face, a smile which is so dull yet omnipresent. 

Errors.

We pick up bad habits as we stroll through life
We try to shake them, but they cling on tight.
I picked up my darlings on the way to nowhere,
as I brood about it, I smoke one of them away.

The lighter clicks sparing me a silent satisfaction,
and the golden flames burn with a gay realisation.
It puffs with pride as the paper burns and the leaves
in lieu provide simmer to my errors.

I sit on the terrace with a brick as friend,
I smoke away my worries as I call in a few debts.
The mellow sky mocks me with white clouds,
I, irked, smirk through my loose grey shroud.

The Brick kindly sits next me,
aware of the delusions, which I readily believed.
Brick is a better man than I will ever be, you see
For it just smiled politely as I grew dull,
And only tsk'ed as I lulled feeling Oh so free.

The books which claim helping!

Some people are destined for greatness, some are meant to be put at a pedestal and being admired. There life is an elegantly written manuscript on which they, very expertly, crave their way to greatness. Opportunities fall their way, and they grab them with all the ten fingers. Well, its not that easy. The opportunity don't just fall their way, hey look for it and take what they rightfully own.

There are things which they do differently from people like me.
First, I think, is that they never undermine themselves, for if you don't believe in yourself how will others find faith in you.
Second, I guess, is they never doubt their ability to do what they think is right. Their feet is strong on the ground when they take a stand, and they are ready to show the world what's what. That i think is really important.
Third, i suppose is that, they are not lazy, they have the desire to keep going and they are ready to take the world by the collar and make it its own. Yes, THIS, This is the most important think there is to do, not the previous one.
Fourth. Believe. There is nothing which can be said more clearly and enunciated in a more crystal way than the fact that one need to believe in themselves, and believe that their talent, vision, belief is true and nothing can be said to move their faith from it. The world will believe only if you believe.

Well, that was mighty easy to write. In reality all the 'point' so graciously explaining life's real treasures, are something I am not. I lack each and every one of these points. I wonder whether all the self help books are written by such lost souls who only write these books to overcome the lack of the quality in there own life, because for a minute my life seemed awfully easy.

Its very satisfying to switch off the real troubles and sit in front of the screen and become someone else, even it is for a little while, everybody needs their escape i suppose. Me, I can't become someone else, the self-righteous (wishful thinking ! ) gene in my body does not let me do it. But I wasn't talking about that, I was talking about how some people are destined for greatness.

There are people around me who I know will be great and theirs will the name I read on the paper in a few years. A few. Out of these few, i am proud of most of them, but when they happen to share a tiny bit of your DNA, the pride quickly turns into jealousy. The point to note is the phrase 'tiny bit of DNA'. A distant relative, who also happens to be sharing your age bracket. I have that. I go through that most of the days of my kind of sort of insignificant life.

BUT, this wasn't supposed to be the usual rant of the PMSing inferiority complexed girl. So I break the tip of my pen here, but before I do that, I need to ask, any of you have tips of how to get over jealousy?

-Ex  

Oyster

There was a cubicle, white as snow and pale as the bloodless corpse. She was asked to come in everyday, her freedom was bought in exchange of perks to facilitate her freedom, make it more colourful.
Irony sits on her giant throne and smiles her sly smile. Its important, you see that she lets the world understand what she truely is and how much joy she can bring into the world.

Someone had once told her that 'we are supposed to be here for atleast 9 hours a day. The employees at least, but you trainees can leave early. No issues.'the mouth spoke those words but the eyes said, 'i won't let you leave. Oh no!'

So she sat at a corner of the office, an alley turned cubicles, slowingly freezing to death as the world unfolded its new colors, every second.

Someone came intervened with the query, 'What would you rather be doing?'
She replied in a jiffy, ' The world is my oyster!?' 'Is it?' 'Isn't it?'

Someone smiled, sameone smirked on her face, someone patted her head and stiffled a laugh.

Yes, oyster. Sure! And the Television is the pearl, yes?
All she heard now was laughter, loud booming laughter.

And then it dawned on her. Painting the world red was just and advertisement on the idiot box. And it was all in her head, the oyster ultimately was just a blue padded cell. And she was on the corner, with a tatasky remote.

She wanted to go to a different cubicle now.

Fess up, Bitch.

Okay, so it has been a while since i have written anything and honestly there cannot be a worse timing. I have my exam tomorrow and it would be better if i studied, but then again mind is a fickle thing which does not understand the constrains of exams or irony!

Demons. An incredible song by Imagine Dragons. In fact I am listening to it right now. We all have our demons, I know I do. In fact my number is more than the amount I would like to have. And for some reason, these seem to reproduce more demons, and they are eating me up. As cliched as it is, I do feel like a hollow shell. But then again, who doesn't?

College has to be an interesting stop in the journey called Life. And I will be honest it has been very interesting, in its own fucked up way. It has been quite interesting. But in the past 3 years, things have changed. drastic changes. I have changed. My mom slapped this fact across my face that I have in fact become a shallow little biyatch. (Those may not have been her exact words, but the thought was the same!) I have changed. And i am not proud of that person. I want to go back to being that one little girl who kept a book in her bag at all points, had things to talk about, knew things about things and was everything there was to be. But I have changed, and I am hating every moment of it, and now that it has been pushed in front of my face, I can't ignore it.

This is not what is bothering me, what really is the problem is that I can't seem to care about anything. Anything at all. I can't really pin point when it really started, but its been a while that nothing interests me, or irks me. Nothing. The other day, I had this scare that I had lost my phone but you know I didn't care.. I mean it didn't bother me. And this is a very small example. If I do try to care or think deep I have this extreme lethargy which makes me want to go to sleep. Even though it sounds ridiculous but its true.

I don't know how to make it go away! I am not able to read books, I am not able to write, I am not able to understand anything or relate to things. I don't know what is wrong and how do I fix this! Some might say that its mental or I am not feeling this way only imagining or something, but I don't think its like that.

I think I really need help but I don't where to go. What to do, where to seek help from? In fact I am not sure whether I really need help or its just my mind fucking with me.


-Ex.