trip...

Grim infatuation huddles in the remote alcove of my brain…I can’t
really feel much now, its more mechanical than human at this
stage…ecstatic and on a “trip” through psychedelic distortions, I am
incredibly unaware…of the thoughts that are flowing into my mind with
such ease…or maybe I am…its scary to a certain extent; how can my mind
be so active, yet so hazed…

Unnatural paraphernalia of pent up emotions,
Exploding with a million unrelenting thoughts,
Perverse melancholic memories creep up
Forming a mesh of hazy moments woven together,
Colours that blind the solace of the mind,
Basking in the warmth of confusion,
Of a mind fogged with restless thoughts.

Twisted images keep forming in the nooks and crannies of my mind; recesses I didn’t
know existed… and so far away, that these images are indefinable blurs
woven intricately with light—their voices muffled by the layers of
emotions that have been piling up for years. Not very useful these
emotions are, just human…

“Sunlight bright upon my pillow
Lighter than an eiderdown
Wishing that the weeping-willow
Winds its branches round”

… And I dream…




…loneliness…
is a mere matter of perspective. Some shy away from the desolate
darkness of solitude as thoughts echo and reverberate in the hollow
mind-- giving rise to pithy doubts, unskilled lies and moronic
insecurities…
I bask in the warmth of this darkness, confusing it
maybe but comforting in its own archaic manner. Thrilling, as new
thoughts drift into a comfortable void of unnatural silence… without
much to contradict them, apart from voices receding from the realms of
logic into ones that promise visions of kaleidoscope eyes and tangerine
trees…

“And what have you got at the end of the day ?
What have you got to take away ?
A bottle of whisky and a new set of lies
Blinds on the window and a pain behind the eyes”

Relationships
unfurl, blossoming into objects of mutual desire as stolen kisses
remain… stolen. How precious these kisses are—rare and stolen, unlike
the legitimised equipment that makes the fourteenth day of February an
annual holiday for card shops… sometimes nameless entities appeal to
the senses, far more than any other ever can… steps taken into the
darkness and you long to retrace them, and long, to return to the
warmth of the faces familiar, the touches felt and the emotions known.
You long to regain senses lost and identify faces forgotten as the
charm of the unknown devours sanity, gradually… taking care that
realisations do no occur… until of course, it is too late. And too late
it is as you reach out for that once familiar face, and realize that
submerged in guilt, your consciencedoesn’t allow you to grab the out stretched hand as you sink in the ruffled intricacies of the ego game, that keeps occuring and re-occuring, shifting from one side to the other till you realize that you are hopelessly lost… in a fascinating mindgame called love.

I’m in love… have been this way for the past three years. Took me a while
to realize it (three years is an incredibly long period of time…); but
now that I have, steps can’t be re-traced and wounds can’t be healed…
For the first time in my life, I wish to take back all the sarcatic
words that have flown out of my lips. I wish to erase all the events
that in the remotest of all possibilities could have hurt… either of
us. I long to talk, but the masks and walls obstruct conversation. I
long to explain myself… but once upon a time patience was on my side;
and acceptance did follow. But I misjudged and misutilized both. Maybe I
should give “it” time… maybe “it” should give me time… maybe wounds
will be forgotten… maybe they will be healed… maybe I should apologize,
but strangely sorry really does seem to be the hardest, funniest and
the most inappropriate word to be uttered now… and I realize…