Sunday, October 30, 2011

October, and possibily November

There is chaos and anarchy in my eyes, mutually inclusive exclusions forming divisive methodologies to create personalized accounts of mythical tales, illusions within seclusion. A very painful sort of rage with an innate desire to alienate myself from one and all rises within me. Simple words cannot do justice to my state as my emotions swirl with complex intentions, only to create fissures in my mind. Curiously, a denial of life is so strong within me that I long to welcome ruin with open arms. Reach the very abyss of existence to find a lowly corner of sordid happiness. The paradox is that isolation is the right of the mighty, the weak cannot have it. Society engulfs the weak completely, it insidiously creeps inside the weak man's life, his thoughts and even his emotions. My thoughts and emotions are so overwhelming that I feel crushed under their weight. By my own logic, I am weak.

It is a sad confession.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Groomed For Silence

I have lost my memory for now, lost the names
And images of the ones that were once loved.
Curiously or rather not, I remember you; everything
But your name.

I know your name is unimportant, for we never said
Much to each other. We were lovers, my dear, and
Often words used to fail us. I remember the taste of
Your tongue and flesh. Often, maybe always, I was
Insatiable for you.

The days pass in attempts to recall, perhaps even
Create an identity; and the nights in love and
Longing. I only sleep to dream about you and to
Think of my hand as yours, as it violently caresses
My starved body.

I remember the tender of your thigh, the mole on
Your hip. But i digress, evocations to your unusually
Slender form will not serve my purpose. What is my
Purpose then? To make a mistress out of a lover;
Pshaw! It's time to regain the universe.

I remember, i remember the look in your eyes
When you held me close to love me. Infidelity
Has its scars. I, unfortunately, remember the astute
Barrel of a gun against my beating heart. Shame
You missed. My dearest, I forgive you all. I forgive
The look in your eyes.

The broken pieces of language that I strew around
Are not by chance; they allude to the fascism of my
My spineless heart. I think the word 'fuck' would
Do some justice to the tragedy at hand here.

Let me die in this lie, let me bury you alive. Do Gods exist?
They do, in my heart, in the pit of my belly; they do. Would
They be generous enough to give me a chance, a lifetime
Of lucidity, in Lucy's arms. I feel bellows of silent laughter
Raging against my womb.

I don't think I am reliable anymore. Delirious, delusional,
devastated, devoid, demented, and finally, desecrated.
I am out of D's now, perhaps I will die now. You shouldn't
Have shot me in the heart. I must confess, I don't remember
Much. Apologies.

For the illusion of clarity, click here. I am at a loss to explain this deviance, ah! another adjective close to my heart, and since i am at a loss; I'll leave it.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Scholars' Altar

I am a research scholar now; your idiosyncrasies
Craving my universe of thoughts; ebbing away
Reality and its sensory distractions: yours truly
Is a crazed lover, espoused to you mere being.
I am tempted to oust romantic inklings from
Our cerebral, oft-clumsy rendezvous; but what
Shall be the state of your flowing femininity then?
I confess that you are not the only subject of my
Prying heart; for love exists only to satiate art,
Perhaps only to inspire and inflict painful rouses of
Affection and tenderness; seemingly curious in the
Beginning. Other forms have come and gone; and
Perhaps newer shall arrive; but none shall rival
The passages of our history, cocooned in silver
Yarns of memory. I must finish my thesis through
Our entangled arms; love's gaunt victorious after all.