~ Trusted people who exhibited sympathy when I was at my most vulnerable phase.
~ Sticking to the norms and trying to meet the expectations of people, being the "good girl". I failed to live my life to the fullest. Being the good girl i failed to remember that this soul needs some fun and relaxation too, in order to have companions and well wishers with whom we can goof around and also share our deepest secrets and tears with
~ Always believing that family and blood relation was everything and that they would always stand by me no matter what. But, i was wrong.
My m̶i̶ (stakes)
• "We are in the ocean of love, with each one of us being mere anchovies envisaging prodigious cachet of a foreign fisherman's reward woefully ending up at the dinner table" When a blanket of winter's fog suffocated my illuminating sky deluging my empyrean viridescent meadows with maroon gore. I lurked alongside my shadow enumerating blobs of unswerving tears. And when the sky rained stars ensuing after a thousand epoch, rousing me from a perdurable slumber, like a child among the fallen leaves my hands knitted utopic dreams. Little did i knew, the sonnets i weave from silence were a pitch of fantasy in a glass full of reality. Everything comes with a price. My feet unaquainted with the waves of the sea, espoused the terra firma as an epitome of Nirvana. His love was the bud, I bloomed pain and bliss together
• "Depths of an ocean, a skeleton sunken city, a sulfer bottom whale perched on a throne. Life- eternal and endless, superiority embellished on its flippers, a heart weighing 400 pounds derelict, devoid of any companion." Head full of fire flies, tender fingers adhered to praxis of mensuration nodus, swallowing catamenial pangs. My little frame burgeoned stacking regimen laid out by stern pedagogues, praised for my well bred demeanor by elders. However, when the solemn skies depeleted of azure, I found myself surrounded by desolation. Was I enough alone?
• "An ataraxic moana, appeasing countless fishes, under the sole shelter, birthing in cognated animalia but is kinship just about blood?" The scars and burnt marks on the fingers of my mother's brittle hands, narrated to me with tacit silence, the mephitic paramountcy of men in a family pursuing patriarchy. When each time,a gallant lassie was labelled "Vile" and her coexisting brother termed "Manly". The moment childhood ended, I cognized multitudinous wolves in sheepskin through the mist, under the shelter of the same ancestry, veins carrying homogeneous blood.
The shabby toys and plushies in my cupboard reposes stashing a handful of anamnesis in derisory spaces of the shelf. Where credulous silence often plays hide and seek with transient kalopsia The sofa sets in the living room are adorned with carmine Threadbare covers tacked meticulously by mother's delicate hands I often asked her about the innumerable scars on her palms and the ones that purloined the pink tint in her fingers. And secured with a bright smile, she'd decode it as years of her alliance with the kitchen knives and Ladles since juvenescent days.
The sewing machine, roughly three decades old, but closer than an inch to her heart, embraces the rust on its tear stained cheeks . Lingering on the same corner of the spare room fixing a mirthful grin across its face during the day And grieving one thousand pieces of elegies when the sun departs for a ~ s i e s t a ~
The vacant side of my father's queen sized bed permeates a concoction of odour reverberating her untimely demise and a fragrance spritzing her fabricated existence And few romantic novels stacked on a tiny shelf of my drawer, half read, inflict frowns each time I open it by mistake For love had retired bit by bit like changing hues of the leaves, since the moment my fingers placed white flowers on her grave and my weak moth-screams bid a farewell to August
I am watching the painted sky when the trees shed lies. In juxtaposition of the sombre streets, a Labryinth that grants the vagabonds some borrowed days. I stand against the wind ,my heart bound in blazing chains and trauma on my ribcage grips like lifeless roots looming a mage. I wandered lonely as a child, my body a warehouse of tattooed scars like the night's sky adorned with stars. I am the midnight of forgotten memories, but when the sky wears a may dress and the clouds accoutre itself in a cerulean suit The rejuvenated tint of my dead lips diffuse coffee dates and cocoa charms Climb into my skin and I would escort you via the melody of dust on my dermis and through the peripherals of my eyes, You could see the crimson crimes and violet deaths etched on the canyon of my mind like unsaid goodbyes. I am not just my pain, I'm also my poetry
And if you insist, I shall carry you to my poesies in a luxurious voyage through my veins where lies a cemetery That chants infinite syllables besceehing "Teach me how to love again". If you' d look closely, I would hide my tear stained cheeks under fabricated laughters and if you rummage through all the crumpled papers, you might perceive the twisted promises stacked neatly in the drawers of my brain The ink of my quill gathers the fragrance of my bruised hands, his love is the mystery i can't crack. And when papercut pierced deeper than knives, I attained solace in solitude and fortitude in pain. Between faded and forgotten I chose to abandon my past in a treasured stack
A halt before the nefarious shop and a gruntled gaze of the butcher amidst silent chaos. In the cramped cage where we count our breaths and wait for death where time is a living paradox and sequent goodbyes plummet incessant tepid rivulets gloomier than a serpent's alley My eyes loiter at the horrendous sight One after another, the hair on her skin twitched out callously. I glance away as the cleaver touch her naked skin, and as her overpowering screams take over the streets, my heart palpitate thousand protests like everytime one of us is dragged and chopped for the sake of the gluttony of these pitiless chickens. The screams of my sister cease to a resting point and I look over to check the butcher's hands soused in red and million sins. Exchanging few merciless smiles, and notes of five hundreds, I watch over big lump of tears, impotent to her rescue. a sin handed over to the gratified chicken in a black polythene
~ & ~
A figment of my imagination are the branches of the same tree of verisimilitude. Drop by drop i fill my belly with tears when boulevards of the town are congested with desolation. In the night's ocean, kissed by ice, through the moss covered pathways I loiter. When hunger balances on a cliff, eventually falling towards the end, You will see me sleep curled up in a sphere in one of the secluded footpaths Away from the cosmos where opulent dogs accoutred in black suits drive past the streets of the town in lavish Lamborghini. Sometimes the sky appears crystal clear like flutes of champagne And few hands stroke our grungy heads and drop chunks of breads on our paws. In a city where "humans" are slaughtered for meat and abandoned in the streets, are we anything more than transient bag of bones and a heart counting its steps towards death ?