Monday, July 31, 2007

It isn’t often that I win an award so I’m thankful to WUBA *does the V sign* and Saby/Jim/Anonymous for voting me into competition.

While still reading about cold blood murderers and after watching Psycho for 3 weeks in a row, there aren’t many people you trust, especially the ones that you seem to take a liking for. While she lit up a cigarette the feeling dawned in me that if I moved my head fast it will fall off – just twist and twirl off my neck, gracelessly plopping into the red coaster garnished by peanut shells. I grab my arm and rub my wrist and the soft skin above my elbow to feel an electric hollow, soft and ethereal. To feel a million balloons under my skin, fuzzing and ready to break. I scream as an involuntary response to seeing a friend eat a burning roach while the other one burned my arm with flakes of burning paper. They all spoke, louder and faster by the minute and I thought if I sat there any longer I might faint. A man passes by, fixing me with a stare and I see a million rings on his lips, ears, mouth and nose and I want him to come closer so I can smell the putrid sweat.

-What did you say?
- What?
- Are you drunk on that much?!
- (chuckle) Jee-ya

Well then, life goes on. For the first time I let the Bombay sun burn my back to toast without cringing. It is boredom and restlessness that makes alcoholics and addicts of us. Sometimes criminals. Sometimes petty thieves. Sometimes suicidal. I consider my motive standing in the middle of the road as a truck whooshes past me. I could fall now, who cares, or attend my meeting. And I do the latter. Sitting in between people who don’t like me much I consider if I should scream out watching the girl beside me scream at me. I watch her eyes bulge out and hear her teeth grind, she talks of blood, gore, violence and I sit and grin considering the appropriate reaction.

I do nothing till I wear out. I spend the whole afternoon amongst computers and people who slowly stop eating bottles and hollering. I wasn’t scared but I did consider breaking my head into the computer screen till they played Radiohead.

They make an earth out of me,
Folding me and leaving creases to mark their territory on me,
Bringing me a cup of coffee when I’m ill
And then leaving me all alone when I can’t give any more.

I’d like to be free
And big
Breasts the size of two swollen paisley prints
To engulf all that moves close
And arms that flap in the wind
Bringing consciousness and warmth.

I’d like to be wanton
As the sea
Thrashing everything into pieces
Whose strength is only marvelled too less
The more you do it

I’d like to wake up someday
And accept it as OK
To take a decision
That either way I am truly fucked
But a you couldn’t stop loving me