Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Arcane clasps.


There are puddles of rain in my shoes.
I smile like my heart is aching.
If it's raining and cloudy in London, there's rain and cloud in my soul..

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?

Adventures to random book stores.
You never did connect the dots so you never saw the monster I had become.
I think I love you.
..
I don't think, I think. I just do.
You sound just like me.

Possess me like a tune.
Pervade me like a musky scent.

There were songs in your soul from a past life. Songs I translated to remind you of someone else.
There's a mole on the lower right of his mouth which I must never know of.
There was a black and white girl with a huge smile on her face despite her sun burn. Little did she know. That's how stories start.
A little midnight oil, spring's first blossom, collection of water bottles with red caps. Later it's a cardboard box with a label on it.

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?
Inside your restless soul, your heart is dying.

"I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams, I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door...
Hello.. is it me you're looking for?
I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted
And my arms are open wide
Because you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much
I love you.."


When insanity became inspiration
Never before had I looked better. And never before had I felt worse.
How was it?
It sucked so much that I locked myself in my room and screamed till I thought the world would shatter and then sat by the river and smoked because I missed you.
Every expression my face is capable of right now.. the infinite sense of your most intense vibrant presence

It doesn't matter where you go, as long as you come back.
Who is that guy who walks you back?
A lot of people walk me back, who are you talking about?
A lot is not one, and one is dangerous.

Your broken Urdu broke my heart.

No rhyme, no heartbreak, no reason.
High treason, the man was a vegetable till he became a fascist.
What ghosts must haunt him in his grave.
The traces of blood follow you home
Like the mascara tears from your getaway.

It's a fire, she crooned.
It's a fire, fire, and I'm burning.

"I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know..
Because I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely
Or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying I love you..."



Sometimes conversations come to me like grey strangers asking for directions, sometimes a part of a song. Sometimes on sheets of Egyptian cotton, ten little monkeys jumping on the bed..
You're the only friend I have. My night dawns with you and you know it.
I borrow words.
Say it to me, again and again and again.

Little one, little one, the sky is falling.

Do you know what missing you feels like?
It's the devastation of a moth as the candle it worshiped is snubbed out the moment it was about to give itself up.
Smoke whirls like a violin's tears, but no burn is visible.

Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?
I drift across the city in the rain till I find my way back home.

2 comments:

  1. I can so painfully relate to this. Lovely blog :-)

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  2. 'If it's raining and cloudy in London, there's rain and cloud in my soul..'

    When is it not raining in this old City?

    'It's the devastation of a moth as the candle it worshiped is snubbed out the moment it was about to give itself up.'

    How true, and how beautifully written.

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