Sh

He sighed as she said to him, "I am sorry I couldn't call you last night. I was gone."

He knew. In more ways than one.

Al 2

Dear World,

I do not like your confines. Neither do I like your rules. Especially the lettering kind. I hate your people. I have only come to be fond of a few of them.

I hate that I am getting old. What I hate even more is the fact that in my head, I think I never will. I acknowledge the fact that you know about the things I have done. Things that would have put me away for a long time. I hate the fact that you know nothing of the few things I have done out of sheer purple goodness from that little, murky corner in my heart.

Is there even such a thing? Why associate a pumping device designed with muscle and fiber, with the enzyme-driven functioning of the brain? I am talking about the heart, you stupid piece of shit. I despise you for pretending to understand me.

If you were a singular entity, I would be one with you. Then I would take from you everything you told and taught me in confidence. Take from you everything you strap on your sleeve and in your mind. Because that is what one does, yes? Like good old Maynard puts it? Have you heard the chorus of 'Prison sex'? No? Of course you haven't. So yes. I will take from you. I will take from you till there is no more. And then I will rest on the soft pillow of your absence.

Whatever name you gave me

Al

A letter to myself

Dear Stranger,

You're going to fuck it up, aren't you? Don't. I have nothing more to say to you.

Unconditional indifference
Sunneith

P.S - Get your bike fixed.

Aa

I was on my way to the workplace today, and I saw something that scraped up skin inside of me. It was just a bunch of words at the back of the Auto driver's seat. It's nothing new for someone who lives in Bombay. You have the usual declarations of love, friendship, profession, and promiscuous nature. After a point, you just block it out. Elevator walls, 10 rupee notes, bathrooms, bridges.

I have no idea why I looked where I did. It was out of my line of vision. I was smoking my cigarette, talking to my sister, the usual pre-11am numbness. But I looked. Fucked if I didn't. I looked straight at it.


The words were written in Marathi. It took a good 20 seconds for them to sink in. Not that I didn't get them. I did. The problem was, I got them more than I should have.

"आई माझी होईल का ?"

Things

Things that make me angry:


Things that I care about:


Things that make me angry.

Untitled

You sit down.

And clear your mind.

You try to.

 

You want to put together a list of all the things that you think will help you achieve a goal.

A goal.

At this point of time, it's just a few words.

Written down on paper.

In bold, capital letters. (You took the time to search for that special, thick-tipped marker)

Just so that it looks important.

 

Fool.

 

You change your pen.

And begin to write.

 

Not knowing whether any of this will ever benefit you.

Not knowing whether you could have used this time to do something else.

Not something important. Just, something else.

 

A daily plan of action.

A routine.

A check list.

 

Inside, you feel proud.

Like you've achieved something.

 

That's right; you've achieved something. 

But you have no idea what you've achieved.

 

Would you like start over again?

Just like last time?

 

 

 

 

 

My actions. Your reactions. A Haiku - Feb 18, 2011

You are interesting to me, if I am interested in your reaction.

 

A Haiku:

How I act with you.

Is based on how you react.

I am judgmental.