Survival

Shrouded,

bumpingoff buses and cars and subway stations and trains overflowing with the dead.

Slouching,

cowering behind shadows,

growing

like the stench of battery acid,

consuming the night sky

black—blacker—blackest.

Kolkata, tall and uneven,

filthy under its colours

spicy and sweet,

savoury—

under a swarm of bloodsuckers and flies.

My city collapses on itself:

looser than rubber band stretched for three hundred years,

tight as a virgin arsehole.

Now emerging from beneath,

spilling through the cracks and grills,

like liquid tar, burning cold

devouring,

by and by,

slowly slipping into my veins now

s l  o   w    l     y

drowning me alive, one with the dead.

Fear not,

I whisper to myself every single morning

it is almost over.

_________

(I’m so sorry about the half assed title, I never really think them through)

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2.46 AM

my mind is coaxed awake from a particularly long train of thought, not yet asleep not fully awake, it seems as if sweet dreams were being brought on

because I woke up in a million years—my soul floating up to the stars—my lips forming contentment in all its lazy, luxuriant glory,

my hair soft—even after ages in the sun—healing in the shade of night—my eyes heavy with the weight of your dreams and my senses are filled to the brim

my eyes are closing—i’m floating back down into sleep’s folding embrace and my mind is full of your soft peach lips and your sun warmed skin and your raven hair thick and curling between my fingers,

and I’m back again in your deep blue room and wind blown white curtains, your tumbling pile of books your unmade bed where your lips touched mine for the first time, your stack of records and films strewn around without a care because—because I’m full of you, you with your well-worn shorts and laughter bouncing off the walls, the evening sunlight turning you golden and Edward Sharpe singing Home.

And I am, I am. I am truly, truly, home.

Small relief.

I woke up today with you on my mind, nothing unusual. Nothing more painful.

A glass of tepid water, handing father the newspaper, asking mum if she wanted a sandwich, my usual routine. My time in my balcony, the tropical sun beating down hot and heavy, no gentle breeze rustling the leaves, the heat of roads glittering, glaring at me.

My morning routine, scrolling through news feed. The black portal to my loneliness clutched safe in my palm, my other hand shielding it from the heat of the sun. Nothing keeps, fleeting, false colours of joy keep me going—every day, the same way, the strangest attachment to my world of lies.

When evening comes with small relief and I’m distracted by the sound of the wind between the trees—

It’s sudden, the rain comes lashing, unforgiving, purging the concrete of unbearable heat. Thunder strikes loud and lightning licks the ground and I’m afraid earth’s come for me.

It’s with fear in my heart that I drag myself out and feel the rain pushing me underground. My soul is drenched, my heart swells and for once, there are no tears. I wanted to talk about beginnings in the end but I’m not part of this world anymore—

A small relief from my thoughts tonight.

 

close your eyes

one. two.

close your eyes.

It’s here now
the night
like an impermeable blanket around our glass globe
its colour the deepest shade of ink
listen closely and you may still catch the whispers of the lost but
another eternity will pass before you can hear their sun drenched laughter again

it’s fading—all  of it, the sound of the wind, the green of the grass, the blue sky that could turn crimson—everything is fading away
watch carefully and your veiled eyes may still see, even fireflies could light the world up
but it’s fading—all fading, the song of the stream, the sounds of the sea, those crumpled tissues that hid away the drops of your heart in the corner of that diner—every bit of it is fading away
keep your eyes closed, let go, forget.
you can’t bear to watch the world fade away you close your eyes
and pretend
that
you are fading away.
feel the emptiness grip your soul, your heart indifferent,
even if crushed beneath the weight of the lies you just can’t let go
feel the cold starting at the tips, rising up, up from your fingers and toes and eyelashes and black lips—all of that warmth is fading, the flicker of your memories dying—every secret you ever had, unravelling and fading away

the world is painted in this colour now, and you can’t make out if it’s the moon or the raven or the tree you once sat beneath because all of it is fading, close your eyes and every single thing can be seen—fading—all of it

slowly

fading to black.

 

do you still think you can see?

open your eyes

three. four.