Mesong

Not always for me the unspoken. 
Not always for me the subtle. 

I am a brown girl from the earth. 
I grew in the middle of everything. 
I grew in the corner of everywhere. 
I grew being big. Strong. Wilful. Lazy-limbed. 
Not for me the mildly hinted. 
Not for me the whispered.
I thrive on the oft-repeated. 
In the shouted. In the brutal honesty. In the Bald truth. 
I can gleefully chomp on the borrowed. 
I can woefully cry for the unknown. 
I can roll with the punches. I can take that hit. Again and Again, and Again. 
I can carry off the black and blue with the brown. 
I dont tuck my hair behind my ears. 
I dont decry my burden. My Brownness.
I dance. Drunk with the power of the transparent. 
I sway. Heady with the scent of me. Known. Common. Citrusy. 
Men fear. They laugh from afar. Or think me someone else. And hint at something and run away. When I roar at them with my eyes. 
I snap my curls and it rains camaraderie and I gather them in a knot and friends grow foe. My tense calves flex at my bursting energy.
I scatter secrets with my eyelashes and gather love stories with my ears. 
My heart is in the right place and mind sinks in the weedy waters of my neighbourhood pond. 
My intentions are always kind and my actions lost in the serpentine lanes of the monday markets of lust. 
I was born into a maze of thoughts. Into a melting pot of identities. Into the back alley of modesty. Into the slum of morality. But I grew a giantess. And chandeliers glittered in my hair. 
And I can barely see where my feet land. But I stomp on. And on. On rubble of pulled down vanities. 
On the down filled dream of the ancestors. On the mud filled gullies of a silly hometown. And sometimes I fall in puddles fiilled with rainbow. 
And sometimes I fall in trenches of the polite. 
And I grow strong and die. I grow weak but survive. 
Hope eludes me. Hope is in my pocket. Hope is my best friend. Hope deceives me. 
And I wipe my eyelashes on my torn heartsleeves. 
And I fly again. Blind. Scared. Stupid. Hopeful.

This Time With Less Trepidation

I dreamt that you gave yourself to me

walked into my bed without your mask

that you abandoned the nights of old

And I gave up the disgraces of my past

That Sheets no longer smelt of that blue deluge

I watched you dream of me watching you.

ghosts threw pebbles at our window

and I dreamt that you gave yourself to me.

Baby girl!

O the rain the rain. I can’t believe this is the end of summer. It was unbelievably short toh! Yeah the last few days were unbearably hot. I fell sick. Really. But what? This is it? Personally I don’t think so. It’ll be back for sure may be just for a few scorching days. Hai re Global warming! Long strange winter. Short Summer and Rains in May. What’s up! Really. I know I sound like an old woman complaining about the changes around her. Oh but I am. :) Went for my first Karaoke night last night. Hated it. Ha ha. Loved the company of course. But that’s it. The lyrics captivated me yeah. Twas fun to see and read the song. Which is what I like to do anyway. But don’t get the frenzy at all. Whole of Google was there. And most were quite friendly with me. Wonder what’s changed. Why I don’t scare them still? :) One ex- colleague actually hugged and lifted me up. Awwwww loved that. :) The nights are a bit scary in my new house. I lock up the doors and windows but the breeze or Laila outside makes them knock strangely. And I have intruders on my mind all the time now, so I do get a bit scared and cry at the drop of a hat at night. Usually am a thriller person, but haven’t got any of tose from home, instead loaded up as many romances I could find to keep me company. Watched Mirror has 2 faces last night. Love that movie. Usually I cry watching it. Dint last night. Wonder why. Might watch Wake up Sid next. Once Sush moves in I will open all the movies with ‘Murder’ in them. :) Sush baby! I got all the Agatha Christie DVDs I have. Yay! Also. Realizing the futility of love as every minute passes. I hate that love makes me so childlike and hey! It reflects in my writing too. Make me Cynical again and ever-editing and passive – in approach to life and writing. Heh heh. Don’t think anyone got that joke. :) Shit this reads worse than my 8^th std journal entries. Will post anyway. Cos not self-conscious. There. See.

Swinging: This way and that.

That space. So unusual. Right out of my dream for a home of my own I suppose -  Couldn’t have come at a wronger time. Job extremely unsure. Mood kind off Volatile. Good friends and pillars of my support system have left or leaving the country. The weather is balmy (shit can’t believe have stooped to this level. Complaining about the weather? Really!) Old Old friends bugging the fuck outta me. Making me wonder how patient and tolerant was I? And what happened to me? And if it’s a bad thing? This change into expecting people around me to be interesting at least if not irritating. House warming party was fun. But I guess I had lesser fun than rest of them. I hate playing the hostess. Always gets me soberer. Drank like big wineglass Mega Pegs of Rum. 3 one after the other and then never went back. Dint play the kissing game either. Din’t feel like. I hate having feelings. Carefree Carefree. Make me carefree again, someone (Soon I know. Very soon. I will be. But the wait, I hate. But Time Heals and all) Now, I realize how much I like T.V and newspapers. Need to get a good broadband connection so can start watching older episodes of Dexter and House and HIMYM and the rest again to feel less alone, bored or plain scared. The space is too huge for me. Love T.V. Am a totally huge believer in escapism. Why not? There are other realities, than what ‘They’ say there is. So now I have no money. No fridge or TV. No maid. Am constantly cleaning the house and though it’s close to a week since my dog moved out, her fur still rotate in circles at myriad corners of my house. My jhaadus fail to gather them up well. Waiting for Sushmit and some pragmatism to help me out here. Just another week I guess and They’ll be here. What else what else? So heartsick last week was. And yes it was PMS. It arrived so early, it had thrown me off and I kept thinking this is the real thing. Real thing meaning sadness. “Just cos it’s in your head, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Who said that? Am I better now. Every hour, there are these 2 mins where I feel like, “There. See. Nothing is wrong. I am having a perfect moment wherein I am thinking about these other things and having conversations with people about work, or politics. And that thing that is bothering me so much is quite out of mind. See at this point I don’t feel anything for him.” And then like that - it’s gone. But, I am old enough to know that these moments will soon add up and soon I will be over feeling what I am feeling and I will be over all those feeling. But am also old enough to really feel that am tired of moving on and getting over.  So yeah. Right now life is weirdly all over the place. But then I have been looking for this right? Growing up. Becoming an adult (gawd 10 years too late!!!) being lonely, having to make new friends, new colleagues, earn money, budget oneself, being spontaneous, getting into trouble, getting out of it. Feeling a bit overwhelmed is ok at this point I guess. And ‘Feeling’ means being alive. Right? I should be glad (and I am) that am able to feel love (and hate) instead of that that dead-woman –walking thing that had engulfed me the last couple of years. And the hurt that inevitably accompanies love makes me sometimes wish that I was back to my unfeeling, scary self, but not really. When it rains and I can feel the amazement that I am experiencing at the bottom of my heart bubble over and spill, I know that this is just the other side of the same coin of hurt. And my friends call me - old and new and they call me over to 10d, or Mocha (yay!) and I see myself feeling a bit alright again! 10d tonight then girls!?  :)

Between

Between the 2.
Constantly.
Abruptly.
Carpet to chandelier.
suddenly.
feelingly.
Airy to dust
love to not and back again.
in a matter of heartbeats.
its the same again.
its the same.
in a matter of heart beats,
she's begun swinging.
Alarmingly
swiftly.
she's running around in circles again.
From door to wrong door,
she runs in circles.
stupidly
full-knowingly.

On waking

Toes on the window sill

Strain with urgency.

Little chips of ancient paint

Break and float away

(Revealing a previous coat

By a now-forgotten tenant).

Calves dimple up hard and taut

Revealing a truer inner intent.

Toes on the window sill

Turn white around the edges

Blood thrums in louder and redder.

Heels feel weightless and skinless

Against the back of brown thighs.

Toes quiver now, some lose grip,

She readjusts her position.

Sits still on a borrowed window sill

(She’ll look like a brooding bird from below,

Nothing further from the barren truth)

And surveys the neighbour’s water tank.

Toes now cold as her hair and neck,

She dreams of flying, she dreams of drowning,

She has given up living now, in sepia

screens of her errant dreamscapes

and the newer bluer colours frighten her still,

so she haunches over the still awake world,

and contemplates living on;

Sitting on her toes on a borrowed sill

neither drowning, nor flying.

mmuuuah me

Refrain from reading if you don't like me in the first place :)

Loving one’s self is the simplest and the hardest thing to do; Simplest because, we are born that way. Selfish, filled with survival instinct. Babies are a selfish lot. Then the society and our grandparents teach us to put others first, thus sowing the seed of self-doubt. Of course, we should all love ourselves. What else is there? My universe begins and ends with me. My life, my memories are all I have. When I say I love myself, it is not pride, or arrogance; (some positive narcissism), but my belief in myself and the belief that I am worthy of your respect. And I am worthy of your love. This doesn't mean I show less respect or less love. I show more. I know. I show more than the other can and always, always, my bigness of love scares people away. I am secure about showing utter love, cos my giving of love doesn't take anything away from me, and my love for me. It may only add. But my love or friendship cannot complete you. It can only add. Similarly, your love cannot complete me. Cos am complete already, by myself. It can only add.

My friends call me forceful. Some call me a monster! I take up a lot of space in their lives. And I never make a fool myself. Cos I'll never feel foolish. This doesn't mean I don't do things you think are foolish, or that you don't sometimes think me a fool. You may, I never feel that I am. That must be scary for others no? I am embarrassed less. Sometimes I act embarrassed just to fit in. I am then playing a part. Sometimes, I am vulnerable, truly. Self-doubt creeps in, which is my (or anyone's) biggest enemy. As long as you know what self-doubt feels like, you are safe though. So sometimes I am vulnerable. Of course. OF COURSE! But you have to be Man enough or Woman enough to perceive that, and for me to open up to you in the first place.

Happy woman?

Very cluttered. Skip if not in the mood to decipher the labyrinth of my brain.

What makes women happy? Fay Weldon, my most favourite author tried to answer the question in her book with the same title as the question. I think her list went, sex, chocolate, shopping, friends, etc. Not necessary in that order though. She says that women feel happiness in small moments. For example, when the sun rises on a perfect day and she stands in her blooming garden, she feels happy, for about 5 minutes. But unadulteratedly happy. Then the moment passes. According to her, a woman's 'Happiness' is the sum total of these very short-lived happy moments. I just hope I am able to be peaceful. Happiness is so fleeting that it scares me. I can get addicted to happiness and its scary how sad sadness feels after a bout of happiness. But one cant escape the race for happiness. One mortal can't. My quest for peace of mind sounds phoney and pretentious even to me sometimes. Fay Weldon says, 'Be Good.' And 'Good will happen to you.' Karma- I believe is a a just bitch. Back to finding happiness. Love. It's scary how that seems to be the answer everywhere I look. The concept of another human being fulfilling a need in me seems unfair to me. If our goal of finding meaning/happiness in our lives ended with our finding love with another, I am sure we would have been born in pairs. However, we are born alone. Left alone to make sense of everything we see/hear/feel around us. Our parents aren't gods, we realise sometime soon. Our siblings not our best friends. Our friends not our soulmates. We are back to square one. Of course, we can spend our lives trying to analyse/figure out/make sense of the human condition. It's futile of course. For we are bound by our human limitations. And accepting the futility of our fragile human condition doesn't seem to be easy. Oh How we strive. For we are the only species that can. We form memories, we retain, we have a thumb. So we build, we make, we invent. Isn't it funny! We invented a currency. I think human civilisation(?) peaked when we gave intrinsic value to paper. But I digress. I was looking for meaning of life. The question Why? Isn't really answerable. So we do the next best thing. We live. We try pretending that we are doing more than just existing. We write novels, poems, make movies, music, so much to validate our human birth. There is beauty in it I suppose. In this effort. That there is strife and we still live is beautiful I suppose. That we created language, that we gave credence to art, I suppose in a way is a victory of our human birth. And we created religion and we went back to square one. But I digress. What makes me happy? Food, alcohol, sex. Easy answers these. But what sucks is that happiness doesn't make me happy anymore. I still feel joy. Yes. I try to hold onto that. So. Yes am still living. I still have an unnameable hope. But I suffer. For nothing seems to help any more. Not food, alcohol or sex either. Prozac might, sleep may. And then I wake up and am back to square one. The trick is to be normal. To belong to your community no matter what. To hold on to your roots/caste/religion/morals/what your parents taught, etc. If you are a freak and you begin to question any of that...that's it for you then. Back to square one.

If I see something new and I wonder what would he think of it? If I envy anyone he is close to or spends happy moments with? If he is constantly in my head? Does that mean I am in love?

Whats love anyway?

I felt happy today. Actually, I don't even know if this is happiness anymore. But I smiled. Wide. That must mean something right? A smile escaping me inspite of me. My dog barked at the pigeons. She hates pigeons. And by now she knows that they fly away and come back as soon as her back is turned but she barks at them and rushes towards them nonetheless. She did the same this afternoon. For the millionth time. It's like she'll never learn. Or may be she hopes that this time, her bark will work. I smiled. 5 in the evening is a very special time for me. I sit on my perch and smoke. Usually with a book in my hand. Yesterday and today, I noticed this lady, skipping the rope. I couldn't judge her age. Her face was disfigured. Either badly burnt or it was congenital. Very middle-class looking, wearing a very neat saree, she skips rope with kids in her building. I smiled. I felt happy today.

Reporting from Arunlekha's cluttered brain once again.

The state right now is that I had a refreshing (unexpectedly!) day with a friend I have known for the last 10 years. A friend, I hardly considered one, as she never matched me intellectually and was such a bad introspector, that I didn't value her friendship much. I know this above sentence smells of narcissism and other horrible things. I am all those other horrible things. I am beginning to feel that I have lost some human-ness for am growing so secure and confident and honest about my being that I am unable to connect with people, because I see in them what they are not able to see yet (but that's for a later post) But, today after almost 2 years, I could be honest to my friend. And had a good time . A great time in fact. To her, she who has seen all my antics, to whom my craziness is not crazy anymore (it stopped being crazy 9 years ago), I was less an object of curiosity, less a circus freak (ok am stretching my strangeness now) and more as a flawed, albeit, happier Uglygirl. You know what? I wasn't an Uglygirl today. I have dropped many many barriers, and today I realised I have dropped another. I haven't been using my strong, silent, resilient, aggressive Uglygirl barrier for a while now. For about, 7 months, I have been me. Me at 27. I have now come to terms with my differences. I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want to don social/corporate/diplomatic/practical/pragmatic or any of those soul-numbing masks anymore. The masks pierce through to the inner me and dilutes and defiles a much happier, if wistful me. I know I sound like I've read a lot of self-help books and have discovered the true meaning of life, and in today's world, I sound like a fool. And you know what? Am OK with that. Totally, completely, utterly secure with what I am today. If something hurts me now, I cry with joy, for I felt something. I wonder at my ability to wonder. I am an honest person. Always have been. For I am good. I don't do things that make me guilty. (but if I feel guilty, I rejoice at that too, fuck~! What a feeling this Guilt is). Of course, I seem screwed up. We all are. WE ALL ARE. At least, I am not pretending otherwise. Pretension, low self-esteem, inflated ego, insecurity are fucking hammers, with which we hit at our own tin cans of life. Then instead of getting rid of the hammer, we try to straighten out our out-of-shape cans. Getting rid of the hammer is difficult. Hoping nobody sees the obvious marks of where the hammer hit us, is stupid and easier. If this selfish society sees your marks (and oh! It will), it will laugh at you, talk behind your back, and make you feel bad. (Why? That makes them forget the pain of their hammer hurts). The more you feel bad, the stronger will the hammer get. And the pain and the suffering continues. Of course, a lucky few, don't see the hammer or feel the pain. They are the blessed, for they are ignorant. They all feel the pin-pricks (where others feel the blow) and shrug it off. They carry on with practicality, pragmatism and other such dry (not to mention soul-sucking) words and live 'happy' lives within the selfish society. Of course I use the term 'Selfish' very very loosely. Society as a whole is selfish, we who make up the society are self-less. For we endure the hammer. Why am I blaming the 'society' for our individual insecurities, esteem issues and the like. I am not very good with words and so at this point I apologize. For we were all born Potentially perfect. Beaming, selfish, happy (truly happy, and with potential for extreme joy). Then our flawed parents happened. Then their flawed religion. The flawed schools and their flawed methods of teaching. Sexual awareness happened, followed by flawed moral guidelines. Flawed 'Social' taboos. Flawed media. Flawed ideas of 'love.'

I too hate the word perfect and love the word flawed. So Let's now interchange the 2.

For we were all born Potentially Flawed. Beaming, selfish, happy (truly happy, and with potential for extreme joy). Then our perfect parents happened. Then their perfect religion. The perfect schools and their perfect methods of teaching. Sexual awareness happened, followed by The Right (Perfect=the best=the most right?) moral guidelines.....and the rest.

I don't want to live this way. This perfect way. The only way we are taught to live. I want to live. Not to reach great heights, conquer the world, prove myself, achieve fame, beat you at sudoku and the like. I want to experience each fucking moment with the utmost energy I have. I want to use what I was born with. The brain. I want to use the mind (which bless it's soul baulked at the idea of the practical and the pragmatic)and the inherent Human soul and ask 'Why?' to everything I hear. Just as we did at the age of 2. And not settle for anything but the complete honesty we deserve.

Ask the question 'Why?' to whom? The only one who matters anyway. To your 'me.' We introspect. Till we can flush out our social conditioning, we introspect. And we be good. After all this, there is a good? (one may ask) Yes. (I asked me yesterday, the answer was in the affirmative) We be the the fucking best we can be. This time with complete awareness of the self. We meditate our every fucking motive. Be honest. HONEST.

As I write this now, am I aware of what I am feeling about this as a blog post? Will the 2-3 friends who read this be impressed? I don't fucking know. Ok let's try again. 'Do I like what I just wrote?' Yes. Why do I like it? Cos I was fucking honest. Am I not scared of being judged by smart people? No. Why not? Cos I was fucking honest.

I left the story of the friend of 10 years untold. Our relationship soured (I don't think she was aware that it did. And that was the second reason) for a boy. A moral dilemma I put forth now. Her Ex of 6-8 months, whom I found hot, called me one day and started talking dirty. He was by then seeing another girl and my friend was with another boy. Her X and I started an adulterous (look how posh am being) relationship. It lasted about 1 year. He still had a girlfriend and my friend still had a boyfriend. After about a year of 'it.' I fell in love with him. I asked him to leave his GF. He asked for time. He took 1 month. Came back saying, he can't. I took 1 more month. Stopped talking to him. I never told my friend anything, cos I knew she was still pining for X, and though they were broken up, my 'relationship' with her X would have hurt her. I was being Practical, pragmatic and thus secretive. This screwed up our friendship, for I turned out to be a sensitive person (who knew?) and keeping a secret from a friend made it difficult for me to be a friend. I told her last week. She was not angry or unhappy with me (or may be she was and she lied to me, dishonesty is the villain of this story) and we bettered our bond and I had a great time and I think so did she.

The Moral Dilemma? The only problem (in retrospect)I had was that I was lying to my friend. Did I think of X's girlfriend? No. Why not? I didn't know her and I felt no compulsion to lie to her or tell her the truth. How could I love X when he was a 'cheater'? I love flaws and don't hold it againest anyone. Why did I want him to break up with the girl friend? I don't know. Love is irrational and I hate sharing. If you loved him, why & how could you cut all ties? He hurt me (and my ego) and I love me the most.

Ok story and Q&A over. Now my question to you is. Would you judge me? Or X? Or my friend for still pining for X though she was in a relationship with her BF?

I can't. I can't judge no one. For we are all humans, flawed. And only the society as a whole has come up with words like 'Wrong' 'Right' 'Slut' 'Sin' and the like. Individually, in a lone room, a lot of the society would feel 'Nothing.' (For Fuck's sake, how does this story concern you in the first place? Who made you Umpire?). To a judging group (I know I keep saying 'Society,' but you know right I mean 'Religion,' 'culture' and the like) that answer would not be acceptable. (Why? we love to hear our own voice me thinks) It would smell of a Moral Lack.

Ok... If you were X's girlfriend (or her friend), how would you feel then? You would hate him (and may be me, though you don't really know me) for the emotional pain he caused you (or your friend).

Would you call me a whore (or an equivalent)?

Ask yourself 'why?' and let me know the answer in a comment. (If you read the 1606 words of it, that is)

i am, i am, i am

We are all human beings and we are living. The purpose of our creation ends there. No? We born we live we die. Whether I live in the gutter and do nothing the rest of my life. The destiny of my humanity is still fulfilled. No? Will my earning a lot of money make me a better human being? More successful perhaps. Right? Especially in the society we live. What if I shun the society I live in. I shun religion. I shun all gods. I shun all traditions. Why? May be cos I understand them and can reason them away in my head. Then what am I to do with this life I have been given? I born I live I die.. does it matter how I live? Does it matter how I die? If nothing within the society makes sense to me. Not 'love,' not 'marriage,' not even 'relationships,' and I see them as tools to achieve happiness. Of the momentary, short-lived kinds. Which is akin to sadness really because, you know the 2 sides of a coin and everything. If everything society stands for is just momentary high-inducing shit (oh yes! I did) why can't I just turn to alcohol instead and get my high form there? Why does my 'High' have to be society approved? Who died and made society the king anyway? I know I know. You will now say, “that is no way to live. In a drunken stupor. In the gutter.” Why? Oh but why? Will raking in millions by the time of retirement make you a better human being? Or being the parents of 3 disillusioned/spoilt/nice/rude/well-behaved kids make you a better human being? And if I want to live and die with the view of humanity. And just that. Can I not do it outside of society. Away from society approved rules of living and judgments? Of course I wish I was simpler, instilled miraculously with some morals, judgments, biases. And that the ability to understand everything and everyone and accept all eluded me. I might have lived a 'happier' more ignorant life. But it is not so. I am not simple. Though very simple things make me happy. A good night's sleep fills me with peace. The rains. My dog's devotion. My ability to still pray and hope. My belief that I am loved by my parents. My friends. They all make me happy. These and many other small, seemingly unimportant (in the more practical side of life) things in my life make me delirious with happiness. No. more than that. They make me feel peaceful. Secure. They make me calm. They re-instill in me the feeling of humanity and answer the question, “why was I born?” or “what am I doing here?"

For some peace

Sometimes when you say you are sad, your friends assume it's because you are fat or broke or single. Yeah yeah, it's all that. And more. And you do things like quitting your cushy cushy job. Losing your cushy cushy weight. And you meet someone new and you are deliriously 'happy' but you are uncomfortable and high. You are forever hoping that may be this time someone will understand you. And then it's not so. And now you are sad and it's still uncomfortable but still a 'high.' Does alcohol, love and sadness feel the same to you? Do they all feel the same as meeting someone new and funny? Are you constantly watching your moods and observing them and you are still unable to control them. And soon 'happiness' feels like a fake, external state that dies down in the morning or when something or someone around you leaves the room. Happiness then wasn't in you, but in the connection you felt with her fallible, unpredictable surroundings.

me and you

I am just a human being. Not overly educated or anything. M.A in the most non-usable specialization. Am not very experienced with the ways of the world or anything. Just 27. lead a very sheltered life and all. Just like you. O.k so I read, and watch T.V and movies (rarely). Just like you, a basic couch potato. I had a job, and friends and some sort of a social life. I smoked a lot, drank a bit, danced. You know how it goes. The regular urban Indian 20 something. Somethings differed, probably, I felt like a freak. Always. I know I know...You felt like a freak always too. Stood out in all society like a sore thumb. No? Let's try once more. People talked about their cell phones and cars and girlfriends/BFs and affairs and food and family and shoes and hair and you want to kill them cos you couldn't breathe? The company you worked for spoke about profits and you didn't care? Of course not. Your boss told you about the hike in your salary and you were most apathetic and you actually said “I don't really care, it's not about the money.” And when he looked at you funny is when you realized that you spoke your heart at the most inopportune moment. And that every moment in the company of anyone other than your dog is such a moment. You live in the society and you have (or you are getting there) what it says you should. A job, a house, a car, some money, a GF/BF, a marriage in the plans, dreams of a baby, a dog. And you are still so apathetic. No? This is not you? Really? Is your answer to most questions, “I don't care?” And It's not even the bravado you exercised at 12 or 17. You really don't care. Have I lost you? - Let's try this way. Do you constantly find yourself alone and misunderstood. Even though you are always in the company of at least 6 people and they seem to love you and nod at your every word. You over-think and analyze everything and people can't seem to keep up with your flow of words or thought? Being apparently smarter than your peers have made you a narcissist? You still with me? The only time you feel good is when someone or something around is amazing you. You then discover, albeit for a moment something that has for a moment stayed your boredom and your constant fear of never feeling anything. You try to hold onto that- A simple act of humanity usually it is, in your heart forever, till you see another such thing and you gather it in your heart like little life-savers and tell yourself every time. This is what matters. This. This. Humanity is why you want to live. You were born so you have to live. Of course you can kill yourself. But if you can't. Not yet. Cos there is still a hope of something wonderful, you can always hold onto it. It will pass you by of course if you are not sensitive. And you are of course, for otherwise the money and the car would have mattered to you the most. No? It is like this for you too right? Or is it just me?

sometimes it doesn't mean a thing

He wore a red shirt
read the Telegraph
what could it mean?

I woke up at 3
having dreamt of pumpkins
what could it mean?

She clutched me hard
while crying for him
what could it mean?

9 million bicycles
she called it
what could it mean?

I smoked 5 cigarettes
while waiting for your call
what could it mean?

You said 'Like'
not love, and then cried
what could it mean?

He drummed your fingers
on my sternum
what could it mean?

I sit on rotting wood
to fulfill my prophecy of a fall.
“Move away silly girl”
cries the gardener.
I gather my skirt closer
to protect myself from the cold
(as if that will be the death of me)
and sit firm on dead rotting wood.