Pitch-dark souls roam the roads outside your house. Groaning and sniffing, they try to find you sleeping peacefully in your seemingly safe haven, inside the comforts of your life. They walk with silent footsteps that pull your mind open to dreams vivid and unreal. They are the night. The large flakes of darkness that hides all the light. They’re everywhere. In the sky, shining their starry eyes. In the shadows, in the wrinkles of time and space. You think there will be light, soon. But you think wrong. You’re stuck.
A stab that goes skin-deep, leaving a paper-cut that burns with every tear that rolls over it. A kiss that smells the soul, painting a color that’s unseen by the naked eye. A touch that feels the throb of the heart, making a rhythm that beats a divine song. A look that brushes the curves and hues of a smile, inspiring a foolish bunch of butterflies, that’s what love is. A mystery quest, an open secret.
Here’s where I stop to confess that you were always around me even before I met you. In my past, and in all the alternate versions of it. I’d wave a white flag but you were already winning. The battles were all in my head. Just mine. Few drops of sanity left in the bottle you forgot in our refrigerator. I always mess up. Forgetting whether to inject it or to bathe in it. Asylums are full. Or else you’d be there. Hospitals are too clean for the rotting minds that we so lovingly nourish. Is this what we get from love that is conditioned and unconditional? A bit of you and me in this page. The doctor likes us. That’s why there are so many names that smell like high, crawling all over his pad. Shouldn’t we hold out our arms? I want that hole in my vein so I can breathe air into it. There’s so much violence in us, they say. But, my love, is there? You shouldn’t want to hit me. I’m just this. The pillow you sleep on. The magic that makes your white world colorful. The smoke that clears your vision. The pain that kills all the Morphine. Ease up. There’s so much world left to see inside these walls. Break free of my hands. Go and see everything that sticks beneath your soul. Trees that go with the wind. Vacant swings that dance in happiness. There’s no patience here. Hurry before someone calls your name and puts you to sleep. Stripes can be black or white. We just love the uniformity. Treasures are hiding under our hair. No eyes see them. Blue clouds follow us around and rain only on us. This is all love. Let us all stay in the divinity of the self. Breathe in breathe out. Let’s go back now. Our time’s up.
The wait, how it turns so painful that tears refuse to come out. How it drenches and saturates you in cold heavy anger. There’s so much that you want to say. So much that you want to give, but there’s that wait. That long unforgiving phase of time that moves so slow, dragging your skin and bones along, charring them against the friction of the seconds that outweigh the heaviest of irons. Life, is one such continuous string of waiting. For something, someone. An endless dead end with a million angles to turn to, all with an alternate outcome. The choice is always yours. Everyone’s waiting.
She slowly stepped into the wet cold mushy mud, her clean warm pink feet dipping into it, her toes tickled by the texture. She shuddered gently, gasped into the furry collar of her white winter coat. A spontaneous smile decorated her healthy pink face, as she tried to move further into the thickness. She was now shivering uncontrollably and shamelessly, and chuckling all the more. Her beige cocktail dress was tasting the unstable ground. It stuck to her now muddy legs, and made her tremble and chuckle even more. She was right in the middle of it now. She ripped her fair white coat off. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink. Her smile remained. Her arms, scratched with several more pink and fleshy lines, waved goodbye. Before disappearing into the darkness, she opened her eyes just once. There was a squealing shining of madness in them.
Rip the mask off your heart. You’ll see a new phase.
Let’s shout, forgetting that they don’t care and they don’t listen. Let’s shout, over and over again to them, asking them to change. But we will all stop doing one thing. Shouting at ourselves. Shouting at ourselves to change. Don’t ever do that. Just don’t. Because how different are we from them, anyway?