The Elegy Of Fate.

She lays on the cold granite stairs,
Cold and dead as stone.
Beaten down,abused,violated
by life,itself.
Her blood is frozen,her breath halted.
She is hiding,but not out of fear.
She can't move,
the brazen body,her wounds..they hold her down.
She is so invisible,
Creases of time have turned into a lingering shilohette.

Frozen.

In a house that perpetually smells like rain,
She watches tender tendrils tremble,
Jamboree to the jazzy winds.
It swells up in the heart,
wells up in the eyes,
Unrequited Love.
                         A flood of Nostalgia.Strewn carelessly in chipped glass jars,
Gladiolas fade on dusty tables.
A century rolls by.

Suitcase Scrap.

Praying For Repose.

Shut my ears tight,drown out the noise,
but they won't let me sleep tonight.
They will echo in my thoughts,
and flow through my veins,
till I turn cold and blue.
Till I am utterly drained,
wasted,scooped out like a hollow avaccado.
But one star shines,at the brink of my window,
Dead and gone,for a billion years,by now.
Too late to pray on it.
Nobody lulls me to sleep.

All roads lead home.

I sit on a rusted swing.
Bare branched trees and Gulmohars in full bloom are my only company.Isolated playgrounds are the happiest places ever,aren't they?
I'm talking to myself,again.I did that a lot as a child.People living in my head.
I look down to see the Earth tinted pink and brown by fallen,dirt-kissed petals.
The Sun is blinding,It's the prime of summer.Even my thoughts blur along the edges.
It's then,that I decide to walk homeward.The sentry asks me how far down the path did I manage to walk.
I just shrug,because I don't see the need to answer.He sneers at me..I don't expect any different from someone who probably thinks I'm running away.
The way home,is long..and midway,I slow down and shut my eyes,tight.Breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and  what I presume is the smell of sunlight,woody..like it's slightly burning the browning grass at its edges.And there's the familiar fragrance of the overheated Earth being watered,cooling it down..replacing the pampering rain.Who will cool me down? Help keep my calm?
I open my eyes to see street children on makeshift tree swings,they look like he happiest children
I've ever come across.Another set of them play a game with soft-drink bottle crowns,a game of their own invention.
I'm finally at the last length,the slope up home.As usual,it's the most taxing.My pace grows slower,and my gaze shifts skywards.It seems to be diminishing backwards,the farther up I move..an illusion of distance.It reminds me a childhood game I often played alone,when on evenings in my old apartment balcony I'd move ahead and recede,to see the sky change size.It was a fascinating passtime.
I can feel the thing pink slivers on my face form the shape of a smile.The world feels like a safe place.

Weaving through the thick air.

 
The sky is patchwork quilt,one painted with dabs of fluffy white in a sea of  grey,ones that belong to masterpiece landscape hung in an art gallery.
The smell of rain lingers in the air,although it's not raining yet.
I can taste the moisture and dust on my chapped lips.
White roses wither and die a slow death with time,as I hug my knees to my chest.
The patch of sky and roof I can see above me,crisscrossed by electric lines,
upon which little songbirds usually perch is all the sky I need to see.
The weight of the wind is making the birds fly helter-skelter,Home,before the storm rises.
From where I sit,against the wall..the windows of my house seem high,almost unreachable.
That's the beautiful thing about being lonely,it so often leaves you with so much mind space..
Almost like a perfect alternative life.

Nostalgia Scented Dreams.

Lets pretend the cold concrete,
is actually a chest upon which,
I rest my heavy head,
and sleep comes easy as a breeze.

Dreams of hazy morning light,
As I trod the overgrown grass in a garden,
Barefoot,amongst dewy trees for company.
So lucid,this surreality.

A short brick wall runs around the place,
locking it in from the rest of the world,
Paint peels of the rusted,white picket fence,
and a tire tree swing awaits,welcoming.

The dream shifts,I can no longer see much,
Only feel my heart shut down,heavy as lead,clogged.
Almost like I was held in a loving embrace,
so tight,that I couldn't breathe.

Oh,Why! Superheroes do exist!

I have known of one my entire life so far,and I live with this supernatural force as a constant,guiding feature of my life.Creating a force field of love.
No,She has no actual magical abilities,like telepathy or invisibility.
But what she does,it's much more magical than physical traits that define superheroes.She loves.
Yes,she loves my every flaw.She loves me through each failure,heartbreak,and wrong choice,every nightmare.Kissing my scars,making them fade.
So omnipresent she is,making me feel at home when she's around.
She's made me from scratch,and there's this way she looks at me.I can see it in her eyes,no one else can ever replace that look.The way you look at something you've created,the way our creator probably looks down upon us.
She looks at me,with pride gleaming in her eyes.To her,every single tear I shed and each smile I wear is as much hers,as her heart.She looks at me,with LOVE.
She watches out like a hawk,keeping an eye,holding me back if I stray sometimes and she gives me so much space,all the same,letting me choose for myself.She listens and learns.
If I begin to thank her for what she has given me,it would outrun words and outlast time,itself.For she's given me all the strength that I have,courage...the extraordinarily high pain threshold that was passed down in lineage,she has given me eyes and my smile.She..who brought me to existance,has given me life.
Happy Mothers Day,to this superhero..my very own,personal superhero.Ever fighting and striving and surviving..all to teach me how unconditional love can be.

This,That,All of It.

This post is going to be a very,very long rant.So I advice you not to read it,if you have low tolerance levels for abstract musings and incessant venting.It's my version of therapy because I don't think people will ever understand.Yeah,it pretty much comes down to me being a misunderstood teenager.
I am going to confront all the thoughts and ideas swimming around my head lately,as if it were a goldfish bowl,Here.
* Inhale *
To begin with...I don't understand a lot of things,and Maybe,I am not supposed to.
I don't think life is just about living..neither is life about seeking happiness.It's somewhere between the both,if you ask me.I don't think being sad or depressed or angry is a waste of time..I think people who say so are merely stating bullshit.Because no one's life is fucking perfect and that makes us Human.
I think life is about noticing things and learning,every minute..even without being aware of it.Humaness is to want things,to feel the need for love and happiness.What is a life without the both.The purpose of life is to notice the Universe and learn its ways,and still be taken by surprise by it.Because you can never,ever know enough.
And I am happy,and I want to be.Because that's what I believe.If it were not for my happiness and slight contentment I wouldn't have an inclination towards wanting to live.I wouldn't have been so strong,survived all of it.You may say,I would have survived,but no.The  need of wanting happiness,even if fleeting and momentary..and the dreams of a brighter future,of more love.More stability.They make me want to live.
So,yes,life is for living.as well as being happy.
I am going to admit a few things about myself,now...I am not one of those people who can pretend not to care,I care..maybe too much,even.I overthink and make myself sad..but we all do that,ever so often.
Also,I am very,very unoriginal.I look for inspiration,all the time.I copy styles..I let people influence me a lot.
That's who I am.
I  crave for love and at the same time,I fear it.I don't know how to explain this..but that's how I am.
 It's not like I am not loved..but I am greedy,and selfish.
I am a teenager,and I have fits of craziness too,and moments of absolute anger,unleashing my wild streak..all hidden behind the wise front I hold.I do stupid things,and quote other people all the time and cry a lot,pick fights,take a zillion self-pictures and have crazy,bipolar mood swings.And I don't think ANY OF IT is wrong in any way,if it makes me love myself more.
And I hold the general opinion that most people suck.Because they just do..I am entitled to,because sometimes this is my blog .And I fear they will hurt me..because I am so used to being disappointed in some of them,it doesn't event take me by surprise anymore.
And what is it with people telling me I'm either boy-obsessed or that I make everything about dating.I hate that.I mean,okay,I think about love with perfection..as a fairytale,which is kinda insane.And I like talking about it..and how I am scared of it.
IT IS  NOT FRIGGIN' EASY,YOU KNOW! Being surrounded by hormone-driven teenagers who get more love than they ask for,and all you ever do is watch,and you get so sick of watching,I think up fairytales and replay them in my mind,because it gives me hope.
It's  not easy.and You had no right telling me off.
And I am going to wait,and it oughta be great to change me,to shake my belief.Why should I settle for something I don't feel? Just because I don't get that love at home...that's letting the situation and my past take control over me.Define me.Only I get to define myself.
It's not because I have this perfect,abnormal image of love in my head.It's alright to want that kind of love.
I am just tired of sucking it up,and taking shit. from people..and I suck at arguments,because I'm not too great at making my point or standing up for myself,and that's how it is.
Also,I have chosen to forgive my Father..because,I almost feel sorry or him,he hasn't kn
own love either.And I'm trying so hard not to be him,by not giving love..that I'm turning into him.
So I choose not to love or hate,but forgive,instead.
Also,I'm so klutzy I get jealous of girls who carry themselves really well.It's just a fact..I drop food,and have uncombed,haywire hair all the time,and stuff like that.
And Maybe I am talking crap and I might be wrong.
The number of "I's" in this post is beginning to scare me,so I shall stop.
*Exhale*

A Soiree With Surreality.

They occupy my living room,these people I barely know.
I remember them from a Dinner Party I attended over a decade ago.I don't remember too much of it,apart from the fact that there were these dogs that savoured ice-cream and this  man I acknowledged as "The Kit-Kat Guy."
They wear painted faces,under deceiving smiles.Painted so red and full of life by pomp and a lie of a life.
Why do I judge them? Because my life has partly been about encounters with people such as these.
It's no less fake,the smile I wear..flashy and as deceptive as theirs.The teacups stand untouched on the table.
Why do we even tolerate people we can't stand?
I almost always fail to understand Adult small talk.I begin to zone out  as they talk about rising blood pressure levels and "borderline sugar"  and thyroidism.
I long to sound really smart and state "Perhaps,they are related..because thyroxine is secreted into the blood."
But I keep mum,because I know better.One of two things will happen..They will either feel too outsmarted or they will provide me with their expert opinion of how I must become a doctor.
Now as I mentally argue with myself,weather I must stay till they leave.I decide it's too rude,so I stay.They begin to ponder over the conversation topics of "settling children" ..and that turns into flaunting wealth and well-being.It's saddening,the prospect that I might grow old to turn out like these people.
But then again,there is always a slight evolution with each generation,right? Or is that just up in my head?
I look over at my Father,his face,it looks distant,withdrawn.Lately his behaviour and choices have been reminding me of an imbecile child.He walks away without a word,and returns only to bid farewell.
I don't blame him,he wouldn't know better..if I were to call people such as these friends,I'd turn out that way too.