Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Of all the songs we ever shared..


"Baby i've been here before
I've seen this room and
I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah"


In dusty corners, let your names depart. Rub their jagged ends together and then despair when they don't fit in.
Add another burden onto your Scales of Balance. Grain by grain.
Wait for the one last Judgement. Account for that sin you committed willingly and knowingly.
Who have you wronged this once? Whose heart did you break now?

"I won't cry now, the insiders are free to leave
And I feel at peace with the flood still waiting
I created these worlds, one by one, word by word,
If there was a song that could destroy them all
Why should I sing it now that I'm all alone?

I was warned but now that my time has come
Please let me drown just one more time
Before the Dawn."

Remember that night when she lay there crying because of who you had become? She wasted away because you were dissolving into yourself in oblivion. You talked of black holes and infinities that will never exist. All she asked for was a glimpse of your realities. But she must never know because your realities are just not real.

Remember that night when she lay there crying because she could not comfort you the way she wanted? That day, when you saw them die and came back in a delirium. When you came and your hands touched and your souls meshed. Your blood flowed into her. The whites of their eyes never left you, not for a moment. Their mouths were ajar, the ghosts of their last screams frozen on their faces.The entire world decayed.

You were raving mad that night, she belonged to you and yet you didn't. You lay on her chest, stifling scream after scream. If only you had cried in the night. The fissions in your mind were solely yours. But she was the one who lay there crying.

She lay there crying because of things you never said.

"When your lonely heart has learnt its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That's when you miss her most of all"

Land, blood, a people, they separate you.
Remember how your breath formed mint on hers. Trace out concentric circles on your palms.
Tall cities bred a physical love in its hidden corners.

There's nothing perfect about this.

"So don't ask me what I think of you
'Cause I'm not your kind
Write down all those little things I do wrong
That bring a stain to my eye

'Cause you build a thousand walls..."


She sat in her cellar, smoking the days last cigarette, not crying this time. The greys of smokey eyes lay smudged on wads of tissue.
Sometimes for her, you don't exist.

You, who think all stories are about you.

"And you can have it all,
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt.."


In dusty corners, let your names depart. Rub their jagged ends together and then despair when they don't fit in. Despair because they will never fit in.

3 comments:

  1. Do you have the slightest idea of how much I adore your scribblings?

    ReplyDelete
  2. "You, who think all stories are about you."

    Well sometimes it is about them...and even if you don't want to admit it to them, they're right.

    ReplyDelete
  3. When your lonely heart has learnt its lesson
    You'd be hers if only she would call
    In the wee small hours of the morning
    That's when you miss her most of all"

    Sinatra, it often plays nightlong with a bottle by my side, and the floor beneath my back;

    "But for someone you adore
    It's a pleasure to be sad"

    ReplyDelete