Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Somehow I realize that my life itself is a wondrous piece of fiction. Like the inebriated Zamindar, I cannot write it down as no words come to me in my extreme state of intoxication. I am intoxicated by my own suffering and the tragic beauty of the world around me.

I am returning to my favourite books, but they are all so inevitably sad- even when they supposedly end happily.

I am not in love anymore, only in love with fiction. I have grown old.

I am a chain smoker.

I guess I am happy.

I am happy because I do not know what I want.

There is a strange song echoing inside my head. It doesn't have fixed chords, and is a lot like jazz. Except you can't tell when the only person who hears it is me. There aren't any words, or the words are as I make them. And I can't make words anymore.

I have lost the ability to make meaningful words, because they are just that- "Words, words, words"...and if I type "happy, happy, happy" or "love, love, love" it is just the same.

The horizons are receding, and the sunlight is just out of my grasp. And something is pushing me into the ocean and I know that the waves will swallow me up, and nobody will see me again.
Not even he who loves me, nor he who thinks he loves me.

Breathe a kiss into my ear, and tell me that my life isn't academic prose, but raw tactile poetry. And that I can survive alone, even without phantom kisses.

5 comments:

Arse Poetica. said...

:-*

You can survive alone Ahona.
And your life is pure poetry.

Arse Poetica. said...

But you are kind of odd, and I feel terribly sorry for you. C'est la vie. You need to be more pragmatic and less weird. And most of all, you should stop talking to yourself, and leaving comments on your own blog.

Strawberry Amma said...

Your post is beautiful. I likes.

Monidipa said...

Of course you can survive alone. All of us have that mechanism inside us. You only have you recall it. Sometimes it's good to practise the recalling from time to time, even when it's not strictly necessary, just so that the pathway doesn't grow rusty. But even if it does grow rusty, a little effort will probably clear it up and you'll be good to go.

Diwakar Sinha said...

well written.