Can't we tear those old pages from our book to pretend it was new?
I miss you. I really, really do. I know I said all the wrong things at all the wrong times. I know I fucked up. Can't we forget? I'll do my best, I swear. I'll stop loving you. I'll stop loving. I just dont want to believe I've done damage beyond repair.
I'm really sorry. I honestly am. Can we still be friends? You're the most wonderful one I've ever had. I'm scared and I'm sorry. Forgive me?
The sky was getting darker by the second. The sun was falling down. The moon was catapulted up. It all happened in slow motion. Two people slow danced to slow music. A man and a woman. They danced on a live beating heart. They took dainty steps and looked perfectly happy. I could see the face of the woman, clear as crystal. Her eyes were a swimmind pool of colour her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked. Her warm features and her smile that melted me to a puddle of goop. I knew this face all too well. The man had no face. Just a sheer white shape of a face his neck.
They slow danced on a heart. The woman wore a dazzling gown, shimmering with the colours of a rainbow. She wore pretty high heels the punctured the heart as they stepped. They made fountians of a thick crimson liquid. They danced around the fountians, the liquid not once staining them, for it was impure. The man was there. He never left. The man did nothing but thump his leather shoes on the surface. I have trouble remembering him. The woman however, was a vivid memory. The dance continued, the torment continued. For many nights and days I couldn't sleep. I was enchanted by what I saw. I thought. I wondered. I remembered.
If heartache was a physical thing
I could face it
I could face it
Ih you're hurting me
Inside of my head
I can't take it
I can't take it.
I still can't sleep.
I got onto the train. I had my headphones in. I was thinking about someone. The music changed. The surrounding changed. The sky changed. Highs and lows. High emotion. High on spirits. Love is a drug. Love is noise. Love is a powerful emotion. It makes you. It breaks you. It changes you. Bass kicks. Breaking glass. Breaking chains. Melody plays. Melancholy dies. Music brings you back to life. Ruthless. Restless. Radioactive. Flags raised. Fear abandoned. Forces unknown to me. Power. Prowess. Peace. Escalations. Elevations. Energy. Shock waves. Sound waves. Demons. Destruction. Death.
Stolen friends and disease
Operator please
Pass me back to my mind.
When for that one glorious second, everything stops. Your heart stops beating, your eyes shut tight. The earth stops rotating, the moon stops dead. The sun dies out, all you see is blackness. In one tremendous woosh of air, you sneeze. AAACHOOO! All your irritation and anger and annoyance flies out of your nose. You suddenly are so light and so free. All you can think of doing is laughing, because you sneezed when the Hindi teacher was being a condescending bitch. You sneezed the wind out of your lungs and you shut her up. Oh the feeling. I was the hero of my class today.
I sat one night.
I sat under the sky.
Under the black sheet of paper.
Paper peppered with dots.
Dots coloured white and red.
People called them stars.
I didn't believe.
They looked like pretty faces.
Glowing in the black papery sky.
A million portraits on the same canvas.
A million faces on the same earth.
One of them always is special.
One of the million.
A particular bright red one.
Four point two thousand light years away.
It's a big number.
It's a big distance.
It's a long time.
Maybe I'll get there.
Untill now.
I'll let the faint irridescance.
The sheer beauty keep me awake.
Insomnic madness.
But we all are a bit mad, no?
One twenty one in the morning. I'm going now. You'll never see me again. Not that you care. Not that you ever cared. All I asked of you is to see sense. What did you do? You let your anger take a hold. You were blind. Maybe now you'll see. Maybe.
The night went on. Almost as if it forgot. It forgot to stop. The sky cried starry tears and the moon grumbled about it's imperfections. Tears of broken glass streamed down her face. Her eyes were a frightening shade of grey, but they reflected a million psychadelic rainbows. Her thin, long eyelashes danced when she blinked. Her cherry red lips quivered when she spoke, but she was afraid to tell the world. Her thin, bony fingers gave life to whatever they touched. Her tall, slender frame was perfect beyond doubt, but she hid from the world. She said she was too ugly. She radiated warmth and love, she looked like she was going to freeze to death. She was something else. Human, yes, but something else. And I love her. She just doesn't know. She thinks she is alone, but all she needs to look behind her.
Oh I've Tried Before To Tell Her.
All The Feelings I Have For, In My Heart.
But Everytime That I Come Near Her.
I Just Lose My Resolve As I've Done.
From The Start.
People come, people go. The entirety of my life seems to be full of elevator relationships. They end at the lobby. I think I have a friend, and woosh. They're gone. I'm gone as well. There's a certain sadness you are bound to feel, but after a while, you learn to get used to it. You get used to spasmodic pain and you think about all the things that went well in that short elevator ride. My only foulweather friend has been my solitude. All I see around me is the sky. But I like the sky. The sky reminds me of every good thing that happens. The small drops of dew that I live for. I went on a school trip to Bangalore for a week and two days. Everyone else in class was happy and laughing and enjoying themselves. Me? I just sat on the side and wrote poetry in a cheap ten rupee notebook. Pulp fiction, if you please. It's enlightening. I read a book the other day called the The Short History Of Nearly Everything. It made me feel small. It made me feel powerful. My existence is an oxymoron. People tell me I'm dramatic. People tell me I try too hard. That's precisely why I've given up on them. I have nothing left here but twenty pages in the notebook. I read a story about a couple who travelled the world, came home, and shot themselves. They left a note saying "we've had our fun, why wait?". It reminds me of Mary by Kings of Leon. Don't ask me why. There's a lot of pent up emotion in my head that I need to let out. Wouldn't it be fun?
