lost in the red

i know not what is wrong. have been chasing my tail, nay suspect i’ve been reduced to laying sprawled on a cold concrete floor, rendered unconscious from the beating of the everyday. it doesn’t translate well or perhaps too well into an incessant throbbing in the right temple. have to speak plainly, too often have i spoken in rehearsed circles so that my words now hold no meaning and are as empty as my soul. shriveled and seeking. no longer an absolution but perhaps something else, which my finger has not found. why i ceased writing i know not either. perhaps it was easier not to know what was, what is, what runs the wheels in my head and so i shroud myself in this eternal rage that does not abate even with the gentlest of cajoles. that builds and which i fear will only explode in a horrible bloody mess. does my heart still desire him? or has it been reduced to a stubborn stupidity that has neither recourse nor sense to seek one? i do not know. do i abhor this life or negate it from habit? do i feel or parade the semblance of emotion? do i care? sincerely? genuinely? or enjoy i this dance i have made up so that i may forever partake of this lockstep, a prison of my own making? what of this life i seem to be seeking? where does it lead? a vast open space i hope so that i may make out a path with my heavy feet. too much runs through my head yet too little makes sense or that i have skirted the issues too long that the surface will soon crack. perhaps why i return to this. i will not break yet i will, not that i willed it so but that it comes to pass out of evasion, dishonesty and illusion. this frustration that i carry of the world i see, i wonder why you see it not. do you not see what we are doing? that we are all culpable for the ruin of the world and the deaths of these people we know not and not of? why can you not feel the pain of that violent act while i feel too much? can you share my burden, it weighs heavy on my shoulders. distance i need so that i may see clearly and not get lost in the emotion, which too often is the case. i need to find myself. i am lost yet again. this time i didn’t even know i’d lost myself. to what? red.

gnats, gnats go away

it’s been a while, and again i have almost forgotten my words, reason and bobbing along the stream of consciousness. help, there’s an incessant pounding in my head and gnats buzzing outside the room.

i implore thee; implode.

period.

am not certain but i might be mad at myself. perhaps i imagined it, that it was to me what it was not to him. with the passing of time, history, malleable as one’s memory becomes what one wills and then you lose sight of the reality that had passed. how does one know the direction of one’s heart? does the heart or head rule or does the head override the what might actually the heart feel? or perhaps there is too much noise in the head and i hear not the heart or that it was all the figment of my imagination. time passes and it does get easier to breath but find myself thinking of him at the most unexpected moments, catching myself and the realisation stumped. am not sure if i speak honestly. sometimes think am only as honest as the people around me and right now am surrounded by the worst of the lot. too much of a chamealon for my own good. no matter, at the end i turn to reason and hold on tenaciously to this one thing that i would like to believe i have and rationalise everything into neat bundles to fit into these compartments of my making. stubborn singular stupidity, that’s my strong suit.

someone new comes along and i wonder if it is what it could be or that it is one of those transient moments that flits as passing butterflies and it’s all that i am allowed to have. in fleeting moments i should satisfy this unyielding passion that i am perhaps too eager to lavish on one person?

is it that am unaccustomed to talking about this or that am just full of shit?! am not certain. perhaps on hindsight but when is that to come? when will i look back and know that it was an illusion that i have so carelessly indulged in and squandered my heart on nothingness but a figment of my imagination. i loved you. perhaps i still do. perhaps it is not a question i want to answer. perhaps i should stop.

it gets easier to breathe with the passing of time. never did i fathom that that could happen. always cautious, always never expecting so it was surprising to have tripped. it was not a extraordinary in the scheme of things but neither was it an every day occurrence. so you breathe and move on. it gets easier to breathe.

fools are fools

the willing fool i am

my stubborn heart learns not

its lessons my head writes

and so i play

the willing fool unwillingly

of clobbers

when polite society comes loud-mouthed, self-righteous, self-important and crass, it makes for an easy target of revulsion and loathing. am rediscovering how unpalatable company is worse than no company at all. and to that i withdraw into my space, where it’s still punctuated by the loud bellow of elitism, broken occasionally by a warble. life might be teaching me the virtues of patience and tolerance, a lesson which i might not have learnt as well as i should have.

i wonder if a pot or a cleaver makes for a better clobber.

of unexpected snowfalls

human relations are not easy but when you throw fast and easy into the equation think it just empties everything of meaning, even the semblance of it is lost. i didn’t get the handbook. i don’t flatter easily, i don’t like flattery and i don’t fancy being fancied by them oily ones, while most of my species get giddy delirious and are pleased no end with the attention. it seems notches on the bed post is something to crow about. don’t think it’s a good idea to start something i know i’d have to end. why indulge the transient, vapid possibilities that pass you by, when you could seek what is real?

because it exists but in theory. so you take pleasure in fleeting moments to make a whole that becomes a life. i think i shall wait in the rain, maybe nature will send me snow on a scorching sunday. or i’ll trip over stools to find porcini.

nots and knots

know not why i dwell as a bottom-feeder. tire of this eternal trough when it was that my heart has learnt and learnt its lesson well. twas so, had to be so for damn if it were a mock truce. perhaps the melancholy suits me or perhaps i lie and all it is is drama or an unyielding stupidity that will only take me further. let it not be so.

morrow to

i had forgotten how cathartic this was. to spill on paper the secrets of my heart. all of it seems so overwhelming and i don’t know where i’ve kept it all. perhaps in my pockets. time to dissect and examine. my life, my thoughts and everything else in between. too many things coming at me, spinning me on my head.

till the morrow. adieu

recourse to life

home beckons. am refusing to heed the call because i know what lies there is certain death, of a soul that has just awoken and discovered colours and smells and possibilities. feel this divide within. have always known that i would come upon this fork in the road. there was never much of an option otherwise and to my father there was never any other option. do i give up everything i believe in, return shackled by prior responsibilities? or do i leap off the first edge my feet find and plunge into the unknown? i know where my heart lies. the script is already written; it awaits the actors to read their roles. it is no comedy for mirth indulges no conflict. i fear what lies ahead. it will gnaw at me indefinitely. there is no answer for no question has been asked. it is but written and it will be read. it offers no solace, tears will fall in place, words exchanged but nothing said or heard for the wounded hear not the pain of others. as the end draws closer, i walk the plank.

there is no other way.