Posts Tagged ‘scottshak’

Where the Vile Things Hide

Posted: October 21, 2019 in Life, Personal
Tags: , ,

Unrest brews in my cup today. Life scares me to death. I am constantly harrowed by all the set of events that gradually arrays with bugles and trumpets winking at an announcement.

A hereafter that I can’t see, awaits. The very idea of a hazed and clogged future smothers me.

What’s written? Are things going to be alright? Am I having a mid-life crisis already?

I remember myself being stirred up and shaken once before in a similar fashion, wondering about a sea of dreams that I was supposed to wade through unfazed, but I had seen myself drowning.

I could barely sleep then. I had almost choked up when I had gulped down a bottle of cold water, barely understanding what it was, hyperventilating nevertheless, thoroughly consumed by apprehension.

What if I were to die today? What will happen to my dreams? There is so much to do. So many things wait for me, for their creator, to construct them to fruition. How can I afford rest?

I find myself in a similar place today. The patch I am in gradually tightens its grasp around my neck. This place is scary. The time, the age, the land, the context – all my anxieties kick in. All at the same time.

I have been screaming so loud, and for so long, not a soul has heard me yet. It kills me to know that. I fish for money to feed my dreams, but my pockets still remain empty.

What have I done so far? Have I mattered at all? Have I even moved?

All these outlets and vents are conspicuously visible. My escape, away from this blinding world I am in. But I am tied down by the things that I cannot see. Those things are the hardest to fight.

So I ring up hope with a glint of hope in my eyes, and she smiles. I think of holding her tight, lying down next to her, while she brushes through my hair. Her thin fingers kiss me with a silent promise that says –

Everything is going to be alright.

Maybe I need to hear that every now and then. Maybe I am still a child who knows no better.

Now, I can see more clearly as my anxiety slowly leaves my body. Life resumes its course.

I surmise, the order has been restored.

The perpendicular universe broken

We are the broken people. The fallen souls. The shattered hearts. The twisted, constricted echoes of a hollow body. We don’t make a sound. We croon. We weep. We are always crying, fading away gradually from the inside. Our angst nibbles us every moment. It grazes us quietly as if we are its pasture.

Our shrieks go unheard. Silent muffled screams that don’t make it to fruition. Like mumbles they wither away into eternity. We bear tears. Like clouds hold an imminent downpour. They are always hanging there. Surmounted by our feigned ego and false strength.

It is hard to figure us out. You wouldn’t know it is us. You wouldn’t be able to put a pin to our emotions. We trudge the earth like dinosaurs waiting for the dreadful meteor. Maybe eyeing that impending doom and waiting for it to swallow us. We wish death. We seek it in every little thing we do. We prefer living on the edge.

We breathe in shadows. An abyss so dark and void of hope, we enjoy its presence around us. We love the way it engulfs us. We rejoice its gnawing. We wish to be eaten away. Pain has no meaning for us. Because we are written in it. We relate to the fallen. There is beauty only we can perceive in it. The trampled leaves and crumpled grass appeal to us. The chewed up and spit out souls rivet us.

We aren’t afraid of the dark. We love to feel its claws on us, its punishing jaws that make a silent promise to tear us apart. Blood is a gift. Every smear is an orgasmic pleasure. We are penned in gore, and seek it in every act.

There is no path for us. Because to be honest, there is none. We know it is all in our head. We know everything will boil down to naught. No matter what you do. No matter where you go. We are aware, we will stay, right here.

We don masks. Masks of a fake smile, of a lying head that you can never see through. Every jovial act is ephemeral. Your laugh is evanescent. To us it is just a moment that shalt pass. Long lasting is our woe. It will remain. Perennial!

We prefer the silence. Because it speaks. Bazillion words, if not for your ears, then for our heads.

We are omnipresent. We walk amongst you. Unseen. Unnoticed. Uncared. Yet we don’t worry. Because we know, nothing matters, and nothing ever will.

We are the broken people.