Barter

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She said “I keep drifting in and out of spaces. It keeps things from getting stagnant.”

He said ” Don’t you like to drown yourself into the intricacies? ”

She said ” I simply accept the fact like water is water and then I plunge to discover, to be bedazzled”

He said “So it isn’t about patterns but it is about movement of them?”
She said “Your assumptions are so fulfilling, they are like a leap of faith to see God”
He said “Don’t you have that one moment which you identified only with hope in your actual life ?”
She said “No. You just like to look for the nuances in the ordinary.”
Words exchanged is the only barter that seems valid, otherwise it all vanishes into clouds of uncertainty. Obscure,abstract and distinct only in the most distant way. But then again uncertainties are factors which find the existence of mind, so why ponder!
Silence on the other hand makes you a person that you wouldn’t want to live with. It’s the spotlight you evade to be content in your own darkness. It’s what creeps into your thoughts and even dreams and destroys all illusions. It is your sole companion, the last resort  even before you begin the adventure.
She could have said that she missed him, but that would have been a well-practiced lie that she used often to along with people. Silences are refreshing, so much so that she hadn’t even realized its existence.

Inconsequential things.

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The death of him brought a great joy to the eyes of the people. There was a greyness about the exhibitionism of such joy. One couldn’t comprehend a way to take up such enormous contradiction of characteristics. The way they saw others with glazed expressions in their eyes; not happy , not morbid ,just indifferent. Like they were just happy with the fog that clouded them and would growl if you took a step to ‘clear up the air’.

Just sitting at the cafe at the edge of the cliff , I behaved like them too. Like a indifferent observer. I jotted down my observations for the tenth time , while the waitress ambled towards me , almost gliding with the coffee pot. I’ve been sitting in this exact place for a while now and haven’t found to need to get up yet. ” It’s the Air” I mumble to myself over and over again. Making excuses that I know nobody would believe. I distract myself while putting together the coffee mug, the teaspoon ,the paper napkin in a straight line but refraining from cleaning up the muffin crumbs on the table.

‘Stranger of Strangeness’ doesn’t mean a thing. It was nonsense, just like most things and maybe that’s the only reason I even let myself like it. It was actually a wisp of thought imparted to me by the homeless guy at the end of the road at the old bungalow I lived in before.  Somehow the immaterial things wormed their way back into my thoughts. These questions resonate in the head , until you can’t differentiate one answer from the other. The one question that I wouldn’t battle with was ” where is my home?” . But once it was asked there was no snatching it back. Somebody across the street with the glazed eyes and a gliding motion clad in a pungent acrid green suit smiled at me. That was all I remember because everything else before that moment and that inconsequential question was forgotten.

 

 

Back off !

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IT stuck to my shoulder

and I couldn’t shake it off.

A smidgen of a thing,

Leeched all my thoughts.

 

Picturing a life with this burden,

A weight that wouldn’t crush

Just perched on my back,

Not letting me move on either.

 

This thought that does nothing,

It doesn’t prickle ,it doesn’t itch.

Just makes my back its home,

distracting my existence to that tiny speckle.

 

Lying on my back,

Rolling around,

Standing in the pouring rain,

Praying to wash it down.

 

When I felt it leave,

I panicked ,

I didn’t want it to leave or stay,

I only wish it wasn’t my back

’cause for just IT,

I would wipe the whole world away.