Quirks.

While you are in the kitchen.

Nothing is stationary.

You make breakfast, and here my hunger is consumed by thoughts, premature. No, not thoughts of you, but what you do. The songs you play seep straight into my guts. Else, nothing is straight.

Everything is dance, and play and whizzing. Your bed is not your bed, but my seat. You are not you but my imagination. But I imagine as I fear. Nothing is straight.

It´s all spaghetti, prepared in homemade tomato sauce mashed with our very own hands, pulped to lust and juice. Yes, juice is the correct word to describe the movement inside me. It has been pouring for over twenty four hours now. That´s how wet I am.  

#Lovelets - A lot like love, just which lasts a short while.

(A 200 words series)

Ek raat ki baat hai...

Aaj phir poora din nikal gaya, kuch dhoondhaa nahi. Toh ab raat mein kahaaniyon ke peeche nikla hoon.

11:54 ho rahe hai. Koi aisi film mil jaaye jismein apne aap ko dekh sakoon… yaa aur bhi behtar apne aap ko jee sakoon. Kyonki jeevan thoda kas saa raha hai aajkal. Darasal meri baaton mein mat aayiye, lekhak hoon, naa chahte hue bhi cheezon ko tod marod kar keh deta hoon. Par sach mein, seedhe seedhe shabdon mein bhi kahoon to jeevan thoda kam saa lag raha hai aajkal.

Aur filmein poori. Uss poorepan ki talaash mein apni harddrive ki drive par niklaa hoon. Koi chehra aisa dikh jaaye jise bhulaa naa paoon, ya kuch lavs jo mann ke khaalipan mein jagah banaa sake, koi shareer, kisi ki aahein, koi frame, sound track… kuch bhi chelgaa. Darasal soundtrack itna samajh mein nahi aata dil ko, Aaj kal shareer lagta hai zor se...

Filmon se itnaa mil jaata hai ki asal jindagi se ummedein kam karna aasaan ho jaataa hai. Haan kuch filmein kabhi kabhi aisi dikh jaati hai  jo aapki saari thakaan dho deti hai aur achaanak apko nazar aata hai aapka saaf jeevan. Uski saaf gandagi, saaf naainsaafiyaan, shaitaaniyaan, mauke, khushi… khoob saari khushi…

Kya baat kar raha hai… yeh sabh jee raha hoon mein?

Koi kareebi rishteydaar mar jaaye toh rona nahi aata, par filmon mein har chotti si naa khushi aise uthkar aati hai tsunami ki tarah ki bhaagne kaa khayaal bhi nahi aataa. 12:19 ho gaye. Daaye yaa baayein?

Dukh ho raha hai bahut. Pataa nahi kyon… jiss par pyaar aayaa usse keh nahi paaya. Closet drama bahut dekhtaa hoon. Kabhi asal zindagi mein jiya nahi naa… dukh hota hai ki kabhi dukh dekha nahi… warna filmon ki zaroorat hi nahi padti. Kaafi time bach jaataa. Time aur jeevan.

Jeevan ko bachaane mein lagaa hoon bas. Log kehte hai VLC se achchaa koi video player nahi, par mera VLC player aksar ataktaa hai. Update shapdate sab kar kar dekh liyaa.  

   

  

Finding Lucy: In the crowd.

I don't often think about that night. That night when Lucy left me standing outside the purple car, while Lucy was inside.
I stood there in the middle of the desert. Noone to talk to, letching at the prudish moon, all out and big and proud. Lucy, was inside.
I wanted to open the door, get on my knees, and claim Lucy. Or save Lucy, as I dream. But I couldn't. I couldn't help but think, even if it was just out of bitterness, that Lucy didn't deserve it.
About the snake who gives himself so easy into any shape, I wonder about its  reality. I wonder about its power. I wonder in pain. And longing. For my love for it is the same, despite all its grime and deciet.
Lucy was still Lucy, but not the same. Or was it my devotion that had changed? Devotion could be a constant.

About the mud that was upon Lucy, who had gained so much vanity because of what it was upon... She felt happy. But what about Lucy? What had Lucy gained? No, Lucy didn't lose anything. My devotion is a constant.
I wanted to open the door, stand on my feet, and claim that vanity. I knew I could. I could try at least. That happiness would be so much more, the mud can never know, when that happiness would be mine.
But that's the thing. I can't claim Lucy unless Lucy claims me. I will just wait outside the purple car and when Lucy is done, I will drive them home.

Finding Lucy: Forbidden Fruit.

I am afraid. I am afraid to harm you. Or I am afraid of harm.
Harm rests underneath my intentions, even when my intentions may not have been harmful. I resist, I drip, I take muffled full breaths, whenever I am around you, knowing fully well that you are not around.
But that's the thing. I do not know fully well.
Why aren't you anything. Why aren't you anything? Why aren't you factual.
Because I know in fact... you have a body.
...
If I were to try and touch you... Would you turn back and tell everyone you have the upper hand? 

Finding Lucy.

When Lucy told me he lost his job… I was happy. I was happy to have Lucy home with me. In my head, I imagined that it meant I could have Lucy all to me, without a care for what Lucy wants, if that’s what Lucy needs, in my head, in my pathetic head, I started to dream Lucy while Lucy was there in front of me sipping heat and sweat. Even dust, but in my head, in my pathetic head, dust and Lucy were exclusive.

Lucy told me he was ambitious, if it were so it was my grievous fault to love him like that. And yet in my head, in my pathetic head…

Who are we? Can we stop?

When Lucy drinks nowadays, he drinks a lot. I stock my fridge with everything Lucy doesn't need, in the hope that it would make Lucy need me. But Lucy and I are exclusive. Yet, in my… well, you know!

Lucy doesn’t know how I even live. I clean the kitchen whenever Lucy wants to comes over. All that remains, grease and egg, of the steak I tried to make three nights before, Lucy has never seen. Lucy has no idea, that I am Lucy in my very own way. That, in my head, in my pathetic head, I am Lucy or worse…

Is it because I am Lucy, or it is for Lucy isn't with me. Because if Lucy was… with me, like Lucy is in my pathetic head… we wouldn't be Lucy.

…