9 AM: You are yelling at me,
Calling me names,
Pointing out my follies,
Trying to mock,
Turning to guilt.
9 PM: We’re both back from work,
Unsatisfying, monotonous jobs, essential for survival,
Time for a family dinner.
You do not ask me to pass the salt,
I need not be told to get the spoons,
With a silent understanding in between,
You turn your gaze to your everyday Television-series,
I breathe easily at the ceiling,
We sweep of the dust of our loneliness under the rug,
Play along to our illusion of perfection,
Simply gulp down our dinner in silence.
I’ve been a subject of disappointments, delusions and despondence, dozens of incomplete expressions, unsaid emotions,
You specify a no-nonsense aura,figures of reality,manifestation of metaphors,glorification of ecstacy,
You don’t want me to sing the songs of a battered heart, or play the tunes of a warrior, want to live oblivious to the struggles of a persistent soul,
Instead,you want the light in the dark, the euphoria, the jubilation,the contentment,you want us to hide our fears and sadness and dance with you in your realm of happy endings,
My dear sir,
you begin your lecture by stating the purpose of life to be happiness, are deeply uninterested in those drowning in despair,
should i believe my life has neither a purpose nor a reason? Am i going to be part of nothingness before i can part,i don’t expect an answer,no,don’t want you preaching again,
I think, i’m just going to drop your subject.
Why have you left like this, or is it me,
I realise i haven’t been sane lately,
Afraid of more heartbreaks, scared of getting hurt,angry, insolent,dependent, stern,
There’s this thing, loneliness it calls itself,
It’s taken over my soul,has made itself home,With silence and rage,i’ve been a bit difficult,
This whole phase,it is killing me,
I must apologise,for i’m just a human, I bleed sorrow,i reek of despair,
But you see, it is the most uncomfortable thing to do,
Probably insane too, but i must tell you tis,my dear,
I’ve been missing you.
A couple of promotional mails,
Dozens of notifications from games you do not play anymore,
The Store urging you to update your social networks,
Calls for spamming, Or dialed, but not directed to you,
Insolent tweets over insignificant topics,
Little memos of dozens of colorful hearts,
As it vibrates,
I switch back to the real world hurriedly, hoping,
With desperate eyes,a genuine smile,
I cross my fingers, click refresh,
No handful of expressions,
No words for emotions,
Frown as i switch off,
You have received no new messages.
In blue ticks and dog filters,
I’ve been trying to find a way in,
With emoticons and abbreviations, I’ve been ignoring all i need,
You tell me it’s trivial, all that i have to offer,
That time has lost, this time is now, and this is what we have come to be.
Typing away my sorrows, I wait,
For random calls,heart-wrenching emails, letters of love, messages of hope, poems of passion, hidden meanings behind verses, words dedicated to my soul, All in vain.
The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be.
No complications, no connections, there is a dearth of all,
We exist as a bunch of hopeless romantics,
Living in this illusion of hope.
Dark chocolate, road trips to nowhere and everywhere, music to my ears, moon to a grey sky, calm to my hurricane, cosmos to my galaxies, book shelf, words, verses, pens, blue ticks, Netflix series, reason for an existence, unidentified emotions, hurtful, harmless, an explanation to my insomnia, my over thinking, my laughter, my self,
Elixir to life.
Cannot, will not, go on without you,
You, my dear, are in for an always-type deal,
You’re not allowed to leave,
You do not realize the fears attached, are oblivious to the hidden sorrows, shall never understand the scared eyes scarred as they are, the paranoia inside of me,
A screaming silence is suffocating,
An unaccounted absence, terrifying,
The ignorance phases are troubling,
The quiet echoes of the disasters stirring inside, Ready to erupt.
Therefore, It’s not acceptable, not okay,
To calm the hurricane, just like that ,
It has to get better,
A single syllable doesn’t stop it all,