The music danced over the surface of her snow coloured skin. Her eyes, as of a wolf who stares into the horizon with curiosity upon a prey faraway from the devouring canines. Such thought that humbles a wolf and makes it look innocent. Those eyes blinking over lips, pink as smudges of twilight that embrace the falling sun, force you to believe in one longing sight that falls on such beauty. A sight that makes you trade your very existence for it.
This writing won’t replace the cold slabs under my stiff buttocks though it might make my indifference colder. There’s a competition between the stone and man’s perseverance. You must have heard about ice over oceans which gets harder against harsh winters. These slabs are water and I’m the ice. I don’t know when the winter of my confinement will end but I won’t break until the end. This irks them the most. They are mere command following officials. Hard working young men, trying to break me everyday but failing. I hate to see them exhausted and angered when they throw me in this isolated cell for revolting with my silence. They are not at fault. They exist in the same whirlpool that keeps me confined and details them to watch over me, where in the vortex I dance with the victim.
Are you the victim, love my life? I might be a loathed rapist but the implications have made me a thinker and transformed thought into word. What a wonderful experience it is to be disgusted in courts and public and papers as a perpetuator of beastitly. Prison is the only place that harbours beasts and the inmates respect me in the most heinous ways. I don’t stay with them because I’m not one of them but they don’t know. No one knows that but me and you darling. I can taste blood in the corners of my mouth from yesterday’s punch by the warden. My bones creak under the flurry of batons. But I sit alone, in the calm, memorising these words to write them on a paper until I’m provided with one. I see you in the dark. I see Me. You are the best con of my life but I’m the artist this world doesn’t dare to see. I’m coming! And I would love to see the look in your eyes when you see me. You won’t be scared I know, but the look of defeat in your eyes and impatience for the next plan to throw me back would be my ecstasy. I’m coming! Alive? I don’t know but life has never been a medium for me. Just a life imprisonment more and I will be there. You know what I would have become by then. You out of all the people know that well. Convey it to whom it concerns. Prepare yourself before I put these words on the first paper I find. Prepare yourself for I’m coming!
I have not lived in reveries since you left, yet there have been instances when I think of the time when your presence danced around me. I could have felt you for life if you would have been a bit more manly when we parted. Let me tell you that this letter is not to remind me of a desolated state that you left me in, neither does it entreat you to come back to me. These things don’t mean much to me now. Continue reading A letter!
Lovin you in your love
Fallin over my weary shoes
Watched suns kissin moons have I Continue reading Love for you!
I have met women and seen them in wondrous joys and bursts of romance, some in the veils of shyness covered by a thick line of dust. I have met men who deserve to be called men with their fine composure of manliness, yet I have seen few weeping like a nursed child.I gave myself in to all and they were scared. They are all scared. We are all scared.
There’s a woman who breaks herself free from the bounds of society but cannot break free from the bounds of her heart even if she transforms her body. Continue reading Thought
He sat there in the uncomfortable plastic chair, cheaply available for festive occasions, as he avoided the flickering lights, embracing the dancing girls and men in the party, to which he was invited out of compulsion. The host beckoned and then forcefully pulled him to the dance floor. He moved his legs like a snail until he was too drunk or physically done with the dance. Continue reading Party last night…
‘How many queens?’
Did you read the word ‘worship’?
Certainly you would have
I know a lot and I know nothing Continue reading Last Writing!
Let me ask
Or not today
Shall I ask
Silence to cast
Over my bloody last Continue reading The Original Truth!
Sing me words of silence
You behold in your bosom
Why live and try?
Let us die the moment
That passes by Continue reading The Sinful Entrée
‘You have to go through all this.’ Sarah loved saying that to people, ‘Perks of being with me.’
‘I never objected that.’ He replied watching Sarah recline in her chair. The same chair that has been a trademark of every office, with steel legs to support the uncomfortable leather seat. Continue reading Fucking Besties!