Time and night again

Staring at the ceiling

pretending I'm looking at the moon

in perfect pitch black darkness

of my flower scented room

when nights are lazy

you compliment them

with absolutely nothing else to do

a whole lot of nothing

as nothing as zero

The clock isn't ticking

each second is an hour late

I'm hacking at inky veins

of this night

with a hopelessly dull blade

In the vain hope

it might bleed some sleep

in the vain hope

it might leech some dreams

or even nightmares

I'd gladly keep

The clock mocks me 

and I'm resolved, to mock it back

by mimicking time

by falling asleep

by pretending I've stuff to do

and so I mask my disappointment

with a nonchalant glue

masquerading as a dreamer

I shut my eyes

and still peer through

through a thicket of eyelashes

I could beat up time black & blue

..Because honestly time!

did you know you suck? 

sometimes you gallop, sprint, run

sometimes you're obstinately stuck

But why am I chiding time?

I can kill it

with nothing to do

more nothing than any nothing

as nothing as zero

Sun does weird things

Have you helped yourself to a bit of mourning every morning? Or even moaned about how the night lay torn out of your window, like dead skin; flaked out and irrelevant.

On a sunlit pyre, no smoke no fire, burn the moments from yesterday, you cherished with life. Incinerating in the now everything that was. 

A room clouded with smokes from everything past. A breath, a word, tears or laugh. A haze of experiences you gathered from yesterday, to implement in the today or forget the next day.

Have you ever woken up and tried to drown in the bottomless oceans of your guts, excavating a heart. Resuscitating it, nourishing it and letting it afloat. Then foraging for food, only you know your heart feasts on?

Food for the heart to fatten the fool, or you could make your own anatomy  chart, pin that heart with a pining dart. Starve it, bleed it let it sob; whispering, weeping a long lost howl..and when it starts to drown in its tears, anchor it with a septic spear. 

Small talks

A cheerless preening peroxide babe remarked at the naturalness of my hair colour. 'Your deep bronze streaks are so subtly done, where did you get it and what colour is it'? She asked.

I told her it's the womb special. I got it while I was being cooked inside of my mother. It looks so natural cuz it is goddamn natural, and this hair colour is called DNA infusion.

Why do I feel like looking at everyone through a sniper scope? 

(In hindsight she was probably trying to make small talks with another bored waiting passenger, but an airport toilet is hardly the place to make conversations..or is it?) 

Airport ughs

Why?????

do people with kids have such complete disregard for those who don't. 

I mean here's an annoying kid (at the airport), pulling at my bag, pushing his dirty little shoes in my sparkling white 'in law friendly' ensemble. 

He's shouting, pulling at my designer bag strings, trying to push around my ginkgo leaf pattern stroller, and his parents don't care a goddamn smidgen. Not just, they're not even looking in that direction, not telling the kid to shut the fuck up.

I mean yeah it's a kid. A four year old satan seed and not even cute. Well, he could've resembled Michael Fassbender and I'd still get annoyed. 

I mean dude, keep your dirty feet off my white gossamer, your filthy hands off my red tote and stop playing with my luggage. 

So what does one do in situations like these? Take the easy way out and change seats in an already overcrowded waiting lounge at the airport?

Tell the kid to shut up? With a whack on his head, rendering him seriously demented for the rest of his life ( though I think he must be deranged to play around a person who's clearly not entertaining his apparently cute shenanigans, cuz they're so not cute) 

Or should one just approach his parents and ask them to lock this thing in a fucking zoo.

I've already tsk tsked in the direction and now I'm going to yell. 

And why the fuck are all the flights delayed? Goddamn ATC!!

This is one of those moments I could be hired as an assassin and I'd do most stuff pro bono.

Waking moments

There you are 

again and again and again 

an ancient clockwork

dying moon 

rising sun 

white morning 

blue sky

encouragement to wake up

wake up for this morning race

swollen eyes

puffy face

now introspect!

a long list

of inconsequential breaths

flipping through pages

of mornings gone previous

each an exact replica

repetition since ages

So here's a white flag

I'm calling a truce

a V shaped peace sign

I can't bear no more bruise

now introspect!

a long list

of inconsequential breaths

smile wide

surprise yourself

Recuperating rhymes

Today on my way

to post some cards

boxing match

a couple of chew cud stars

locking horns

a death match

but did I care

my hair looks shiny

so here's a selfie

sans fards

Today till now

I'm faking colours in my life. Hah. It's like affirmations really. Or maybe not. I don't care. Is been a rough few days, too much work.

And worst of all, stepping out of the house every goddamn day. The weather is warm, cool, warm, hot, sizzling, sunny, pleasant, blistering, odd. 

Had gone to the post office today (Gol Dak khana), and it's as kafkaesque as it gets. 

Totally surreal, and oddly romantic. 

(I never thought the insides of such an efficient system looked so rustic creak)

Felt like a philatelic freak today..and these aren't the stamps I want to lick, still in each life some rain must fall..and I've been fending tornadoes for a while. 

Lack of sleep and wedding work, multiplied by cat catastrophe, liberally supplemented by the sads can be a terrible thing. Nay, ..its woeful. 

I've a crick in my neck, and feel like a broken puppet with minimal head movements and exaggerated joker like smile. 

The crick that started as ignorable ache is now massive. To the point that I had to pop in a painkiller, but still it persists. 

 

I should rest I know, but I'd rather be exhausted numb.amnesiac. I wish j had amnesia.