Chaos is a seething ocean. Turbulent, consuming, destructive and I am one step away from being caught in its whirlpool swirling in my heart. I have been seeing nightmares in black and white. Of people, of incidences locked up in the abyss of my memories, like an album but there's no last page and so, on and off it goes again and again and I am one step away from being pronounced insane.
Silence is the last recourse for the battered heart and Anger, it's offspring. Sometimes I think I am a crack on the window pane. A slight wrong move, a forced push, a sudden yank and I'll be one countless shred of glasses that cuts and wounds.
Anger is like a creeper. Growing, circling and choking until there's no life left in you. Oftentimes, I confess, I have found it snaking its way up to my throat, threatening to suffocate me. Silence, I feel speaks the loudest. Mind though, only a good listener gets to hear it. And if you are one, you will find it has a distinct haunting voice. It is like the sound of a funeral dirge, like the wind wailing on a windy march night.
Pain, in its nature, licks and burns and gnaws until what's left of you is a flesh picked bone on sunken eyes cradling despair. It's like gravity, there is freefalling but there's no destination. I saw pain the day you walked out on us that winter morning and winter has never been the same since. I grew to dislike it. It chills me to the bone and there's nothing fire can do to revive me.
Trauma is the demon hiding inside your closet. But on certain days when it rains, there's this bolt of lightning that illuminates it all and there's no hiding it anymore. You are a bundle of mess and your tangled hair and tears soaked face is a testament that there's no salvation. Sometimes, it's like a bad tattoo, etched deep into your skin to stay forever. Itching because it is infected and as much as you wish to do nothing with it, you cannot help your fingers from scratching it.
This ramble? Yes, this ramble is a product of a sleep starved soul. You call it insomnia but I call it a blood sucking parasite for the energy it drains me off. In between the twists and turns, I have never been more philosophical and never been more jealous of you too. Philosophical because there's life and in my delirium, I dissect it to solve it's mystery but who am I to solve it when there's the rest of others who cannot decide what came first, the egg or the chicken. Jealous because there's you, peacefully asleep, sweetly smiling to a dream your soul has taken you to while I lay awake battling it out.
Thoughts running in my empty mind I feel the goosebumps But nothing I could find. I know I have closed the door to past memories But I dont know why I have tears. My hands heavy as if they are trying to hold on to me. I am feeling hollow .....but why As if I am in a desert and above cloudy sky. The memories live with you as your part But if you have to make a fresh start With them you have to part. And goodbyes are always painful. No matter how much I try. For sometime I have to cry. The tears have never been so warm as heavy emotions swarm. The heart will squirm one last time I hope , me it will forgive. I hope this time I create good ones the stories that I have to live. I want to tell you Its very sad though.
* There's this arabic song I happened to listen on you tube by chance. Its so haunting. Gave me goosebumps. Though I did not understood a word. Its beautiful. (Best arabian music- shirin abdul wahab - ma thasebneesh)