Lost Random Chatter

it takes a certain something...

Step, twirl, feint, faint...
Freeze..

Sob.

Gentle persuasion... I draw it forth, and twist it into a coiled writhing mass- till it hisses at you, a serpent of your own making.

Hah.. a shadow of a smile. Did you catch it?

Sulk.
I turn around and walk away- quick short steps..

One honest question, whispered.
Perfect timing- just before I am out of earshot.
The walk back? Quiet, purposeful.

Eyes locked, we lapse into a synchronised fluid motion.. mirroring each other, attentive in turns, breathing concern...

Slash.
How dare you? That wasn't rehearsed.

Fine. I can play it.
Step- sidestep.

I tire quickly. You knew I would.
I cede ground, grudgingly, reluctantly.

An elegant riposte.
Articulate. Unabashed.
You listen.

Inspite of myself, quick shallow breaths.
Pause.
Please?
"No. I know, but no."

And then ever so naturally, my head on your shoulder.
You lead.
And it seems to be me.

It takes a certain sort of someone, to dance with me.

Riffling through old notebooks, I often come across my scribbles..
Intentionally left undated- debris from supercharged waves of consciousness, fragments that you could paste together to make a collage of my soul.

Here's an excerpt -

"When outside all is lovely, bright and clear, I sit hidden from the Sun inside my room. Curtains drawn, the yellow light of my lamp making a mockery of the day.

Stifling reds woven into the carpet and ink stains looking up in angry startlement. It's just me, my pen and my notebook. Thank God that the ink isn't black, or should I thank myself?

"Will you analyse my handwriting?"

"Do I shine through in the way my letters slant, or the height of my ts, or the fullstops or the lack of them in the sentences I write?"

To the inevitable, "Who am I?"

"Will you help me in answering such a trivial question?".... "

The irony that the last question is steeped in, twists in me like a knife.
If only I could go back and give me a hug...
" It's ok baby.... no one can take away from you who you are... Shhhhhhhh..."

It is powerful to be...

I AM being...

(at the risk of being misunderstood, this post goes out to tell the universe that I know the secret of being)

:> what do you make of this, eh?

Let's keep it simple- okay?

Reduce greys to black, and reds to a white - perhaps increase? No. STOP.

It is black, white and hyper-linked blue....

Blue- we can make allowances for blue.... thick globs of cobalt blue mixing with just a touch of ivory white to make me a sky....

Leave out the stars... it can be a cobalt blue night not pierced with lights...

The purple is outside my ken... I will wait and watch, and try to learn.

i sit here... shivers racking my body.. i try to hug the laptop closer - but it seems to be failing me- just this once..

stubbornly, i hit the little green button on the left of my cell phone..... a series of rings- stop at 11 and a half...
again and again and again and again.. many times.
no voice at the other end......

i feel betrayed...

like the time they had promised to sit at the back of the class, just for me to know that I had not been abandoned amongst strangers. They left- and when i turned back with a smile to say that I was happy, there was nobody there...

I understood then, that I had lost something. And with all the spite and outrage i could muster- i said that they needn't accompany me anymore.... and i didn't let them..

Back at the same place....

Just that I have tried to lose my fierce need for independence on the way..
And I stubbornly believe..

A lullaby awaits - the magic eleven point five..

Curl around and drift on dreams of earthquakes, and wake up with the guilt of not having raised the alarm, and the memory of a winding road that takes me to a gouged hill, drowning in muddy water..

4,200 words.... yipppeeeeeeeeee....woooohhoooooooo... I see the introduction shaping up.... Bugs expected on tuesday... If no further disasters await-
I might just make it by the skin of my teeth.

Since I'm feeling kindly towards them- here's what my assassin bugs look like- Rhinocoris tristis- if you want to call them by their proper name..

Flashy- aren't we? And the wicked fang like rostrum - all the better to stab you with!
[always fatal if you happen to be a cricket or a fruit fly.]

need intensity to feel worthwhile...

he is picking it up from me...

24 hours to kill a demon more recent than the one that haunts the laundry...."or I can move in with the demon instead"..

Let me sharpen my knives- anything to not actually have to use them....

[ but it is true...don't we all know- sometimes ordinary things can take on weird fanciful shapes? ]

About emotional blackmail... heh- that deserves its own post... another time- maybe?

we are two crippled people deluded into seeing each other as whole...

yeah- that should heal us, shouldn't it?

wrong...

either we live the lie like we are living a lie...

or, with a perverse competitive streak in our masochism, compare the damaged goods and argue bitterly over who has lost more...

and then, the final curse - "I love you."