Retorgrade promenade.

Mushrooming clouds like sudden bursts of joyous explosions into the sky.
And a multitude of leaves in a million hues of fall,the yellow days.
This afternoon,I lie on my stomach,
Lie,Watching  my life,staring right back into my eyes,
My green tea is growing cold beside me,longing for the embrace of my lips against it's rim.
 And a calender butterfly-one those that are found in every season,striped black and orange.
Uneventful occurances that move me to me to the whim,with their charm-nothing less than their sheer simplicity.
I could be seventeen or seventy -two,
It's one of those eternal feelings that ceases to fade.
The same way the inside of a shell never loses the sound of the sea.
 

Wall stains in Irani cafes.

There's a girl that I happen to know.
I meet her,sometimes,to lull away sombre Saturday nights.
Our stream of conversation is much like the evening,
breezy,accompanied by the spray of a lake fountain.
Three-fourths of this one night,we spend in autos,
Talking away the time and distance.
Neither of us seem to mind what would be called wiling away precious time.
Beautiful things lure our eyes,tonight.
A dancer's expressions like fluid movements of sheer poetry,
The dazzling costume and grace that seems innate.
Our gossamer thoughts,our cellophane hearts,
are no less pretty to our adolescent  gaze.
And we sit barely inches apart,
sheltered by a stain-walled Irani cafe,
and the enclosed encounter exposes our differences to be none but the same.

The day that was a song.

A warm,clear patch of sunshine heats up the winding tar road towards the house,
A spot where we stop to soak our bare feet in the warmth of the moment.
A haven where the gravelly road stops piercing our feet.
I look up to notice a clump of bamboo sheltering the sun,
nestled among pop up clouds and bright blue daylight.
Tubs of popcorn and slices of pizza and shrieks of thrill define the day.
A large Persian cat,with large green olives for eyes purrs at the door.
And that's how I met the first feline creature Ideveloped a slight inclination for.
 Just as I watched contentment and relief languidly soothe my soles.
The vapours of joy steam out of me as smiles,slowly curling in chalky wafts.
Listen,carefully to the song of harmony and happy endings on replay.

Divinity for thou ears.

"You pursue Humanities? And what do you plan for doing for money?"
Well,something better than you,you pigeon head.I don't even want to rant about this..because I don't see a reason to justify anything. Bleh.

Talking of Better things.
My dog loves springing onto my  face,because it looks edible (?) *feels loved.*
And The Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
It could be a Christmas carroll.Or an entire dramatic play rolled into a song.A musical.
A warm glowing loveliness like Christmas tree lights.The essence of the most beautiful time of the year.
 The flecks of gold floating in a shaken snowglobe.A pretty crystalline snowflake landing at the tip of your tongue.A radiance,brightening up and washing the world in warm yellow afterglow.
The constancy of bells ringing  through and through like a dramatic interlude,in the snowglobe world created by Christmas time,where beauty can be eternal.
Almost as if the wintery wonderland month of December is but a merry song.Taking a walk down a stree lit up by fairy lights,enchantment weaving fables into the icy air.
With it's loveliness it sends creeps down my spine..with the sheer drop of a beat here,another there.
I am no musical mastero,but there are but a few other songs that make me feel that way.
Carry on.

Nestling Uncertainity.

With my arm about your midriff,I blink back at the darkness of the afternoon deserted by the Sun.
I can feel you succumb to sleep,under the weight of my head upon your chest.
Pain creases within my chest at its firm edges,a blank sheet of paper crumpling into a ball.
A stinging relief  rests upon my ribs.
If I shut my eyes tight enough,for long enough,this afternoon will draw into eternity.
All the things to be done later will cease being important ..will cease to even exist.The torrent of numbing quietness,the soundtrack of our forgotten worries.
The covers could always be warmed by our presence,always as welcoming.
Yet,I gently slip my hand out gently,careful not to startle you awake.I slip out of the state of  your lukewarm affections.In your dream like trance,I save you the chance of reflecting on reality.
 

Pak choy.

Boy bands are so well received by their fangirls,not because the songs they churn out,but because the fangirls hear their love being reciprocated in the music and lyrics of the song.And then dompamine kicks in and takes over everything.

Huh! Like we don't already know that,smartie.A God of death dies when he falls in love with a human.What a beautiful way to die.
I think I've been watching too much anime.Ignore that.
What to do,"examination time" induces weird habits in me.

Pak choy is my new favourite vegetable.*munch munch*.It's so green and leafy and crunchy and...uh.
See what I'm talking about?

All my mind wants to think of right now,is how the end of a term is so much like the taste of a mint chocolate smoothie.Sweet on the palette,and refreshing on the inside,the throat.
K.Bye.

Springs of sorrow clad joy.

I step into the blank darkness of the night.The cold air gently grows onto my skin.
The pulse of the city throbs at earshot,the incessant patter of raindrop intermingling with the drumbeat procession of the festival night.
It makes me curious sometimes,as to what provides the thrill to music..the rapid increase of the beat,or steep drop-the almost unnoticiable moment of silence in between the beats.
I step back into the house and the three of us watch the rain from the screendoor.It begins to feel like we have been watching the rain since forever,hiding in the shadows of the dark house.
The pup crawls into the space between our feet,nestling comfortably in a warm spot to curl up to sleep.
Getting bed is harder tonight,for I slide into the soft blanket on my father's side of the bed.He isn't here now,and a strange emptiness swells in the looming silence of the large house.
The white noise of the ceiling fan going about,the only consolation to our crushed inhibitions.One night to be ourselves,and one night of loneliness.
One feeling of ambivalence.

The buttery sultriness of bittersweet joy.

Smoothness personified-the axis of the perfect inclination of her calves,an asset of her endless legs.
The crook of her plump smile in rosy shades of baby pink,as curvy as her soft edges of her hips.
Her lashes as luscious as her very lips,blink heavy at everything they see.
Hourglass fingers painted red.An owner of supple,soft skin..palpable in fairy themed dreams.
Brunette curls fall messy over her face,that bears a few traces of her pleasant middle-age.
An opulent sheen in her eyes,radiance of warmth in her creamy skintone.
She simmers,bubbles and melts on your mind,bending over with poise.Her extravagant virve is overwhelming.
Her voice a low-rung,sultry song..sexy as if she had a permanent cold.
Her laughter rings as voluptuous as her presence,full.Full is a synonym of her-her full bossoms,the full cusp of her healthy pink lips.Full free flowing head full of curls and wit and intoxicating laughter.
For she is impregnated with the high spirits of life,never run out of mirth.
A homgeneous blend of cheery and stinging..she could be your perfect woman.
Lady Butter.Simple,yet delectable.If butter assumed a feminine form.
Your ideal companion.

Coke floats and rainy roads.

Our dreams are as passionate as the swirls of icing on redvelvetcupcakes.As intricately spun as trims of lace.
Or perhaps,the flimsy idea of dreams we carry on for our entire life.Living the old lie of a life.
A constant sleet of heavy downpour.
We sit facing our coke floats,delighting in the creamy forthiness of vanilla ice-cream dissipating into soda.
"Almost like whipped cream" we nod in agreement.We're just being teeangers-laughter sprinigng seamlessly out of heads tilted back.
Accompanied by constant morsels of quips wrapped in the mental broth of our ecstacy.
"Love will make you learn things you don't intend to." She says "I'll wait for love to make him to do it,too or instead." I add earnestly.
We add witty remarks to are lush conversation.And run to the sidewalk before a passing car can splash us with muddy puddle water.A joviality where each little word and act seems funny.
And the goodness of mere coke-floats is a bliss.And stepping into inch deep puddles doesn't make us squirm.
An immortal day,one of those that never dies down in spirit-not even with the dying sun.The afternoon is forever young,true to it's spirit of youth.
The delicacy of  a few friendships is nothing short of magical.
It's our time to SHINE.

Swaying to tingling tunes of nostalgia.

The skyblue sky could be a baby blue umbrella that we are perched under.
Perched on the front porch,we study the new additions to our garden -
Waxy pink and yellow hibsicuses,the thrombus like veins on petals bulging.
Dragonflies drift,weaving through the marshamallow clouds,
leaving invisible traces of their swirled flight.
The twilight is soon to come,to come and soothe our overworked senses.
The horizon will come and kiss our feet.
Kiss,the bundle of joy,curled at my feet - My very own bundle of joy.
The sublimal air weaves patterns upon my slow sighs.
Life,as we know it.

Hop on to the happiness express.

Happiness is the taste of success on my own terms.
The sensation of puppylicks and heartwarming songs.
Paper roses and butterfly kisses.
Glitter dusted wishes and daydreams in warm undertones of amber and honey.
Laddles of love for fictional characters and favourite quotes.
Falling asleep to the sound of my mother's voice intermigling with enchanting windchimes.
Pixie dust and snow globes and dream catchers.
Poetic moments held right and invisible tiaras held high.
Handwritten notes and the smell of chlorine.
It's all the accolades I ever need.

Noon for two.

Sprawled out like the lazy afternoon,
With legs outstretched,we repose in grey serenity.
The spaces betwixt us are written all over,
The same word scarwled a million times-"Mine."
I calculate the breaths your little body heaves,
you steal glances at me,pretending to be asleep.
Your legs rest upon mine,our dreams intertwine.
Your heart races under the warmth of my clasp.
We cool off our bodies and souls,
I close my eyes and lose myself,
to the smell of your pure milkiness.

Fluttering,floating,gliding.

A butterfly,it's wings clipped
She's held down forever,
Floral Nectar awaits inviting nobody.
She's struggling to rise again,
To break free and be
The predestined beauty of creation.
Naive is her second name.
Her fragile loveliness now lost-
To the impulsive need of one.
She lies,awaiting her final fate,
Unaware that it's way too late.
She dreams her dreams to fly away,
For confinement binds her to the worst state.

Daydreams,Doldrums.

Resting my head upon the car window,I chase raindrops on it.
The uncomfortable pace of silence is back,my family at unrest.Always upset.
It fails to surprise me anymore.
The makeshift summer swings that hung from the trees are now gone..Autumn sets in comfortably,the dappled sun filters through the spaces between syrupy golden leaves.Leaves that sparkle with a slight glow,competing with the fierce sun.
It's an ideal Sunday..My eyes seduced by sleep,my stomach laden and content.My father silent,at a distance from which I cannot tell if he is happy.I have barely ever been able to tell the difference,anyway..except from the audible grunts of disapproval.
My parents small talk about trees and inconsequential people,tactfully avoiding the omnipresence of dysfunction eating away at our sensibility.
Maybe later,I will crave for something sweet and watch weekend television with my father or lose myself to another work of fiction,perhaps.A normal family thing to do,I guess.Maybe,even laugh a little,a sad stifle of laughter watching Sunday slip away.
But all I can think of on this languid noon is swimming pools.I daydream of them.I feed my mind with the contentment of the thought of swimming.It's far from summer,the last one far long gone.I have never been fast on my feet,but swimming..it was the closest I got to flying.Almost like..escaping,running away from the blank noise.I was pushed into the deep edge even before I could put a sentence together in writing..and I can't tell if it has done me any good.But I dream of the chlorine breeze growing upon me.

And I'm Just A Teenage Dirtbag,Baby.

Her little nose is tinted red,
the dramatically smudged lines of black,
blend and flow with the parallels of salty tears.
The rain intensifies,weighing upon the heavy silence.
I begin to slowly sigh,but give up midway.
Reprimanding what's done only worsens worlds.
Now,she's on the phone,verbalizing her sorrows,
And I'm way too torn down in the battle of ambivalence,
Admiration intertwining it's slender limbs with dismissal.
A phantom heartbreak leaves me too broken,
The very same fear boils and stirs,implodes.
 

Morning's brink.

Saturday mornings that startle you so subtly,you wear your brightest smile.
New rows of marigold flowers line up the garden wall,pom poms of the cheering sun hidden amongst the furls of life.
a vine creeps over to the otherside,as if warning the inhabitants of any potential danger.
I notice new roses,milky frills held together at a voluptuous,sensuous cusp.
I stop to smell the roses,quite literally.Time slows down,the balmy morning caressed me..a cool palm on my overheated nape.
The wind humming through the trees,settles on my smile.The tinkling of distant,enchanting windchimes adding to the fairy-tale like desolation.
I scoop up a floppy firangipani that has landed on the bright pink bougainvillea bush,and tuck it casually behind my ear.
I can't quite summon the feeling.How many times over I find myself falling in love again!

Seething Surfaces.

Our sorrows meet and merge as one,
The confluence of two swollen rivers-
overflowing with the flood of tears.
The tattered silence lies around us,
fitting smug like an old,favourite sweater.
 The element of passion begins to blossom,
As we surf over the massive swells,
The giant underbelly of blue numbness.
The  soothing swash of waves,
is now growing on us like a newfound home.
It's all gone,the sound of fear,
The oceans no longer foster beasts.
 

Rawr,becuase I'm too exhausted to be original.

And I could write songs,
about your eyes and your stride,
and that precarious smiles.
An ode to your lack of flaws,for all I know.

It's your very words that bear the charm,
and wisdom of the dead lights that blink at the brink,
of my window-those we fondly call stars.
And yet,even that I will not praise too much.

I can go on to the greatest lengths,on about your voice-
the sound of sun and rain and chaos and comfort,all at once.
A ballad for the beloved time you devote.
But it's not what I seek to describe.

For,It is a mere thing-I am much grateful for.
Yet,not a fact so furtive,after all.
It is thy company,forming the tightrope to balance on-
Two minds,that I wish to acknowledge most.

Beau : The Anthill of Reassurance.

 In a room that smelled like summer,the spokes of sunlight burnt the blanket to a warm honey hued illusion of it's original whiteness.
She woke up,to the emptiness of her loss.
Her loss.The most peculiar sounding words she had ever heard.The most familiar words begin to grow meaningless when said too many times-abused,if it may be put that way.
Mornings never tasted the same..without the lingering aftertaste of passion resting upon her tongue.The very tongue,that had now turned into paper.Not the most passionate red wine could appease it..for it tasted not like it did,accompanied by the enigma of agile pecks on the lips betwixt long sips.
She began to long for the staccato voice that became her day.No morning could dare turn into an afternoon without the taste of the kiss-Goodmorning.
She longed for the hint of the smile that she banked her hopes upon,for the warmth of the hand on the small of her back..
Angered at her reckless mind that wandered with thoughts she resolved to avoid,she turned the air-conditioner off in one swift move and stormed into the kitchen,still clad in her nightclothes.
She sat herself down under the giant eucalyptus tree,lavender sunlight glinting through the spaces in its boughs.She sat amidst the aromatic eucalyptus leaves,marooned all around her feet..the medicinal smell rubbing off on her skin.
Her eyes wouldn't have gall enough to spill over-they were yet too full of denial.
"I want us to have our backs just like these little fellas do.Carry each other..and each others burdens through and through." he had remarked,with a slight smile as they had been observing an army of ants like bemused children,climbing up the big red anthill..the biggest one in their garden.Their garden.She din't know what to call it anymore.It would never be theirs the same way again.
He had dusted off the little black creatures finding their way up her legs,being careful not to kill them in the process.
The little,irrelevant details always stayed with her.That's all you've got left when someone's gone for good.
How do you live with it? How are you supposed to become the person you never imagined you would be?
When you want to crush all the anthills in the world and tell them they gave up on your faith too soon ?
When you no longer know how to breathe or to even exist anymore? When all you want is for the earth to crumble and cave in?
She now looked away from the anthill,as if  the mere act of ignorance could make the maganamous ocean of sorrow evaporate.She looked upon the high,white-washed compound walls,lined with shards of green and blue glass,remenants of bottles.Reflecting sunshine and scattering it,an effect which had once added a sense of enchantment to mornings that seemed to draw on forever.
She sighed,not quite deep enough.Her lips couldn't decide upon a frown or a smile.It was Hopeless,she knew.He dwelt in the atmosphere and all its element,always around.Watching,almost half mocking.She wanted  once more,to scream at his boyish stupidity and ruffle his hair,but instead let out a muffled sound from her throat,the first wail that was unanticipated.
Only he could heal the grief he caused.Heal quick the stagnant wind began to whisper.