Then:
The darkness cloaked her as she peeled off her second skin, exposing heart and flesh. The mirror blinked, taken aback. Her fingers fluttered around the scarred skin of her stomach. She looked carefully, leaning forward into the mirror staring into it; time had woven a web around her eyes. The room clouded up as desperation trickled down in a black streak from the corner of her kohl-lined eye. She blinked back and stretched and then curled like a rag doll on the bed as she sought relief. Monochromatic memories un-spooled in a scratchy film and sweat poured as she rose and fell buffeted around by waves of pain and pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut and hands balled into fists as she flashed-back to an endless parting.
Brutal loss.

Now:
She sits still. Like the glass lake she is watching. A blanket of contentment, still fragile but slowly growing, cocoons her. She nurtures it zealously, no passion winds are going to blow it away anymore, no carnivorous cravings are going to claw it away. She is determined. She glances up at the sky, a formation of geese is flying towards the horizon, slowly dissolving into oblivion. She gets up from the bench walking away; the squirrels are still racing after her for peanuts, but she shows them the empty bag and its almost as if they understand. Sombre fir trees stand in the prayerful solitude of church spires against the wintry sky. She looks up at a lone solitary star and smiles at its fragile brightness.
Her eyes are bright uncut diamonds and the mirror smiles back, a full silhouette of satisfaction. A discovering of simple comfortable uncomplicated love lighting up lives.
A blessing.

What determines our worth?

Always in love

Or was it something else I felt over and over again?


I can’t remember a time when I was’t head over heels in love with someone. My first crush was on Star Trek’s Mr. Spock at the tender age of seven, and even then I was driven to inadvisable acts in the name of love. One day I scrawled “I love spock!” in bloodred crayon on the wall of my playroom and was soundly spanked for my efforts. In standard 4, I loved Sammy. I loved him because he swore and played the trumpet (in that order), and also because he was olderand all these qualities made him a perfect allround bad boy. When I discovered that his real name wasn’t Sammy, I teased him night and day, even though he usually beat the pulp out of anyone who dared call him by his real name, to his face. The fact that he never pounded me, I took as a sign of his pure, undying love.
I’ve had so many crushes it’s difficult to keep track. from third rate hockey players to dead opera stars to all the members of a band (at the same time), I’ve lusted for them. My crushes have ranged from faint interest to pure gibbering insanity.
Crushes can derail your life. Like some sort of emotional typhus, there is the initial contact with the infectious agent, a period of fertering and fevered delirium, followed by a long period of recovery.
Even science is of little ues in combating the craziness. We humans are biologically engineered to be addicted to love. The “crush” is actually a cocktail of hormones triggered by something as simple as a glance. One minute you’re calmly walking down the street, the next moment you’re dumb struck by the unearthly beauty of the guy stacking bottles at the supermarket. You don’t get to pick. In perfect inverse proportion – the stupider you get, the better it seems.
Here’s the final twist: Just when you feel you understand the forces at work, sopmething comes along to wreck all your theories.
Which leads me to the last and perhaps biggest crush of my life. I would walk by his house twice a day every day, even though it was more than a kilometerb out of my way. Heading up his street, I’d grow faint and my heart would pound, all from sheer possibility of actually seeing him
I was giddy, I was gaga, I was completely out of my mind. I drove my whole family insane with endless recitations of “he likes me”, “he likes me not”, “do you think he loves me?”. If you think this is juvenile, you’re right, but that’s what crushes do: they reduce us to total imbeciles.
And what happened to the last big crush, you ask?
Hehe…

'Hunger'....

Dust swirled & pirouetted in a mad frenzy…..I coughed it out .Blinding heat…on a april noon. The auto threaded in & out of the narrow lanes as deftly as a needle completing a running stitch along the hem of a cloth. Ensconced in the womb of the auto, I was sitting …lost in thought…the view outside a blurred haze.
So deep was my reverie that it took me a while before i realized someone was talking to me... .I turned my anesthetized eyes to the auto driver but his back was towards me & then I saw a wobbly hand extend itself in.
Ummm...it was a red light crossing & I wasn’t sure how long the auto had been standing still & then it struck me - Beggars!
I looked straight ahead of me, averting my gaze.....the way most of us pretend to turn blind whenever such miserable unfortunate people approach us with an empty hand but a heart full of hope.But wait a minute, this man had something in his hand-incense sticks...but I simply shook my head.
I explained to him...no incense sticks required.
The more insistent he grew, the more adamant my refusal became.

At the crossing, the light turned envious....at that instant he blurted out-‘Please buy it, I haven’t eaten for two days’....I looked into a pair of hunger ridden eyes & could almost feel my hunger hit me with a vengeance like a punch delivered by a wrestler on his punching bag.
Maybe, his words wouldn’t have had such an effect on me, had he met me ...say, a year back.
A year back, I didnt know what hunger was, I didn’t know how difficult it is to sleep the night away on an empty stomach....I didn’t know that the only way to stop the burning sensation in the stomach, is to keep drinking water every twenty minutes & stop it from growling...from groaning in protest...I didn’t know that your insides churn in agonizing pain & make you want to throw up when you haven’t eaten for one & a half day….your head spins,u feel dizzy & it becomes difficult to walk….maybe it sounds like an exaggeration…maybe my system over-reacts when I miss all my three square meals coz of tremendous workload in the Pshycho Lab & somehow I never have the money to buy something from a canteen etc.
Maybe I was so used to being a spoilt kid back home where food was always taken for granted by me that remaining hungry for a whole day was not my forte.
But I am learning….picking up the art of fooling my hungry stomach by drinking water.

How on Earth,did this old man manage to stand on his two feet & sell his ware the whole day long? Had I been in his place…I would have collapsed coz I become so weak that I can barely walk, my knees turn to water & my hands shake a wee bit.

It was the last twenty rupee I had in my purse apart from the thirty that I was supposed to pay the auto driver,luckily I had coins that added up to another ten...it meant, I would have to walk a long distance at eight thirty in the night…a scary proposition.
I saw myself handing over the money to him & regretted that I didn’t have more to give to him….
I could see drivers screaming at us, we were blocking their way…stuck at the crossing…pampering some woebegone old man selling something trivial.
But did they know how hungry he was? Hunger…that kills you slowly by inches…hunger that makes us impotent…hunger that gnaws at our insides…hunger that constantly draws attention to its presence inside us with it’s devious pin prick stabs….hunger that makes even thin arrowroot biscuits taste as heavenly as chocolate pastries….hunger that makes u look askance at people eating good food….hunger that makes you want to march into the eating joint with those delectable names that make ur mouth water….hunger that makes treacherous noises in ur stomach & gives your game away when you lie to ur friend & say you are not hungry….hunger that turns u weak & makes u want to compromise on ur principles & borrow money from others & somehow u battle with ur morals & stick to an empty stomach than an empty conscience....

Life comes a Full Circle

Boarding schools, midnight feasts, stealing bull’s eye peppermints from tuck boxes of sworn enemies, pyjama parties, Halloween treats, bullying juniors, making friends smuggle love letters to those ‘cute’ boys, using mirrors to communicate with the boys, filling up slam books, exchanging photographs, packing the trunks, boarding the train & finally off…to an Adult world waiting to be discovered.

And that is when you realize your wings have been clipped even before you could spread them & take off on your maiden flight. You realize you have to get married to someone, handpicked by your family & before you know it…you are a domesticated hen taking care of your brood.
All those sonnet cramming days & Shakespeare’s Othello filled evenings seem to get lost in a new rhythm of changing diapers.
Skills picked up in making neat section cuts of roots & stems in Botany classes are made use of, in cutting vegetables.
All your prize books become the scribbling grounds of the little ones.
All the medals you won in relay races, javelin throws seem to turn into rattles overnight.
All your merit certificates won through sheer hard work become breeding grounds for spiders & mites.
All your ambitions of a career get swamped by wifely duties that leave u breathless.

Days melt into months & months into years & finally it is time for your little ones to fly the nest. After years of keeping them snugly close to your heart, it tears you apart when you let go & yet when they call up & narrate their days in the hostel- smuggling goodies from the Mess & into their rooms, playing pranks on April Fools’ Day, camping on the hostel grounds on winter nights…
Déjà vu….
Its like Life is making you rewind a black & white classic movie in which you are cast & you watch it in slow motion.
There you are-Tip toeing across the dormitory & trying to climb the wrought iron gate of the Hostel on a moonless night, to make it for a long drive along with Him but alas! Your cell phone starts ringing & that’s the end of your escapade for a night…but Wait, yours was not an Era of cell phones… & the realization transports u back to your kitchen, where you are listening to your little one relate how she got caught by the guard.

You smile at Life for trying hard to return back your youthful days that it had robbed you of.
Life seems to come a full circle for you, coz u let your little ones fly with unclipped wings into the azure sky…. unhindered, uninhibited …they soar high above the rest, in pursuit of your unfulfilled dreams that still wait for you to catch on.
It’s like a merry go round ride you got into –long back…and it got stuck halfway up to the sky & took years for you to complete the ride.

PS- This one is for you, mum.....

...in Perfect Harmony.

Perishing in Solace

Prolouge:

The wind hazzened the distant horizon. It blew around her head like a halo. Like a galaxy of dirt orbiting a sunken star. She felt like a ghost. A ghost that haunted the deep dark hollows of night. And this night, all she had to offer was a confusion of thoughts and a skerry of emotions that rose out of the distant frame of flirtatious nods and winks. A dangerous game. A game of lust and longing and make believe. Pretend.


Somewhere below a car changed gear and a green light ambered.


Her hands trembled as she touched the passionless glass of the window pane that held her to this world. Beneath her the traffic rumbled ironically reminding her of life. A clarion call from the romance of suicide.

She thought again of moist love…. of fingers and tongues and the rumour of his loins. But a rumour seldom is a reality and remote lust rides chill vectors.

Her thoughts drifted. A paper cup that floated upon the sewage of failed sensibilities or even an ocean of lingering thoughts.

And suddenly gravity beckoned. Gravity, which was a sullen mistress. Gravity, whose call was as remorsless and inevitable as the seasons. She felt icy fingers clutch at her ankles and her wrists.

The wind hazzened the distant horizon. It flew around her like a halo and the dust of her dreams followed her down like a trail of tears….even as her hands excited the window pains ever more vehemently.

----------

I sit beside a swollen old raven, whose beak has cracked more shells and skinned more bones, than time has time to tell.
His eyes are so crystal that they reflect my own reflection.
Within his eyes exist another universe with galaxies and constellations, all of its own, where the daily doings of any intelligent life form are observed by a bird.
A bird as black as famine.

I wonder whether there is a parallel universe existing in each raven’s eyes that live and breathe. And when the bird dies, as every bird must, does the universe that spins its unique existence, within that black environment, die along with the bird? Or does it go on spinning in an independent life cycle? Spinning and turning and burning its own bright stars and suns?

Who knows?

The evening drags a charcoal blanket across my sky. A blanket, blanketing the distant glitter of time-blessed stars. Stars that speak in silent flickers of ancient days. Days of triumphant dreams..
Stars....Fallen heroes or forgotten angels?

Who knows?
Maybe just lights hung within the dreamtime in the wilderness of eternity.

I look at the raven and the raven, with head crooked at one side, looks back at me. We know where we sit and who we are. We know our places in this world and we know how the fates confide, not in the doings of man, but in the ways of birds and beasts and insects.

Below us the traffic grumbles a discordant sound, the sound of brakes being applied and horns being punched. Life is a blur of taillights that fade into a rapidly moving wide-angle screen.

Above us a murder of crows move down like a dark stormy cloud. The coming together of the carrion fowl. They gaze at my raven with eyes of ostracism. There is sardony even in their flight.

A sudden wind blows a halo of dust that converges above our heads and spirals down below us, where a woman sits with sunken eyes and talon fingers that cling in quiet desperation to a glass pane. A glass pane singing its swan song.

The raven shakes his heavy wings and with a practiced ease takes flight.

Worlds spin in the eyes of crows and the days of men are numbered but still…. a single life matters.
Dust swirls into a nebulae of infinite possibilities that froth and fail in the winds’ currents, as the raven plummets like the dead.
Head thrust forward, wings pinned back, a black missile with a singular focus in its beady black eyes.

The ramshackle congregations of crows await the inevitability even as the old raven plummets.

The song ends. The woman falls, like blood spilling from an open wound, surprised to note that time slows.... as if to make the moment of freefall last....
Punishment perhaps or a time for belated reflection.
She sees the earth spin and rush to greet her whilst her own body falls in slow motion. She sees the crow.... beside her.
Wings, now open with wingtip feathers, held out like a clawed hand. She sees in his eyes, wisdom beyond reckoning, and briefly she smiles, as heaven gazes into her and lights her pallid face.... and blood spills on the concrete, drenching the pavement with droplets of rouge.

The heavens turn black as the wings flutter.

Later, when the raven has settled back down beside me, droplets of blood on its wings, and I have finished shaking from the shock of it all, he turns to me and smirks…

“No one should perish in solace”.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This post is definitely not mine alone...
From the title to the words to the arrangement of the whole story (which was nothing but a cluster of random thoughts before)it has been beautifully put together by a wonderful writer. a bigi bigi thanx to u neel

Words

His had been a lifelong struggle with words. Like dried blood, words lay in clotted clumps on his tongue-for he could never express himself in front of people.Beautiful thoughts flitted through his mind but whenever he tried to pen them down,words refused to flow out, for his mind worked faster than the rate at which he wrote or talked.His mind, which was so different from the rest, a mind where a hundred or so thoughts created chaos and he envied the mind of others that was so simple,so uncluttered.He who saw the World differently...

In school he was the boy who raised his hand but could never answer his teacher-the words were all there, rolling deliciously in his mouth but they failed to budge from their hiding place.And now he is a man brimming with amazing ideas & yet when his boss looks around for suggestions,he ends up agreeing to the mundane ideas offered by others coz he can’t express himself, he can’t make himself be heard. Caught in an empty world devoid of words, exists a brilliant man not understood by the world-the past thirty years has been a lonely walk.


They said she was like that from her childhood, that she would play with words when girls her age played with dolls,that you could give her three unrelated words & have her compose poetry out of it in a minute.When she spoke, she could weave magic with the way she used her words alluringly. When she wanted, she could use those very words like a whiplash & leave raw gashes on people who hurt her.


She lived in a world full of vibrant words……He lived in a dark World that craved for the warmth of words to stream in like sunshine.One day God answered his prayers.

He met her, the goddess of words….

He was browsing through the names listed in sify messenger under the alias gypsy_cloud & there she was as azure_sky & somehow he liked the match.He wanted to float like a cloud across the blue sky & explore it.Initially She was reluctant to chat with him,who was but a stranger but finally she relented. All he saw were words on his messenger, words of such colossal magnitude that it shook him, words of such beauty & naïve innocence that his heart melted and he could not help but fall violently in Love with the enigma that had almost mastered the art of making words come alive.
He was in awe of the power of her imagination, the vivid descriptions of her words that burnt itself in his psyche.
She was all that he was not….
She was the one who could complete his incompleteness…

He tried hard to meet her in person,to unmask the anonymous young writer who drove him crazy with her words.Like a cloud that’s hard to pin down, she eluded him but not for long…..
Like a whiff of spring air she drifted into his life & he felt satiated. But he kept his battle with words under wraps.Oblivious to his struggle against such demons, she felt hurt when her words elicited no response from him. She felt angry for he never reciprocated –unaware that he wanted to express his love for her but the dark forces held him tongue tied, held his speech paralysed…
His silence infuriated her & over the months a stage came when she could bear it no more. It was then that he spelt out the dark secret.

‘Autism’…He whispered…

She was advised to leave him… but how could she? Did the advisors know what love was? She hoped not. She was free once, now she realized that she is been pulled down to a shell, along with him. A shell she knew she would never be able to come out of. It was like an invited constrained, a constriction that would bind her to him. He would be incurable, he would be wordless, but he would be there. She had enough words for the both of them she thought, and his shell was strong enough to let them in, forever. So what he lived in darkness, her words had made him crazy once, he saw light in her every syllable. She hoped she would replace her words someday. She hoped her words were strong enough to win the battle, that they would make his clouds pour, and then may be, one day he would look beyond her words, one day, he would look at her. Just may be.

She could live with autism, she realized, but she couldn’t live without love.

For Love is Color Blind...

Pebble in my shoe! Daddy help

Miss those days when you would take me out skating,
& watch patiently when I fell every two minutes
while the others smoothly whizzed by.

Miss those days when you came back from work,
tired & haggard and yet trained me in neighborhood parks,
At the middle of nights,
for upcoming Shot Put championships and Relay Races.

Miss those days when I saw you happier than me,
When I brought home medals.

Miss those days when you bought me Chocolate Truffles
To celebrate those little ups and downs in Life.

Miss those days when you would call me up from work sheepishly
And say you didn’t mean to scold me so harshly

Miss those days when I would look starry eyed at you,
while you told me that I can achieve anything I want,
Even own a pretty Island of my own.

Miss those days when you would teach me maths
Even miss your characteristic tearing off my books &..
throwing it in the dustbin when I failed to solve the nasty sums.

Miss those days when you would bring fish every morning
And sweet talk the cook into serving it for breakfast!

Miss those days when you would be scandalized by my dresses
Yet tolerate it good humouredly.

Miss those days when you would offer to take me out for a movie,
to cheer me up,though you hated those 'unrealistic','silly' movies.

Miss those days when you and me, would conjure up stormy fights
While neighbors promptly closed their windows.

Miss those days when you would snatch and lock away my favourite novels
And I would hate you for a week.

Miss those severe looks that you would give me,
If I came home late in the night.

Miss those worried looks that worried me
When you felt I wasn’t studying.

Miss that Big fight when you felt I was too young...
to have a mobile phone.

Miss those days when you would keep a sharp eye on my friends
Advise me on my selection of friends
And we would both end up at each others throats.


Miss those days when I threw a tantrum and wanted a pet dog
And saw the look of horror on your face

Miss those days when you overcame your dislike for wet doggie noses
And learnt to love‘Fluff’coz you saw me kiss her doggie nose everyday.
Miss you Daddy....

Don't you think a fake smile is the saddest thing?

what remains free:
stories you wove in the cold breeze
as we sped down congested roads, a patchwork
strung together by laughter, commas and silence.

what stands firm:
stone temples, white churches, chapels
and flowers wired to pews and altars, as broken thoughts flew
and formed wordless prayers for strength.

what remains trapped:
A face in candlelight,
A touch that broke through my dark dream,
...

tears that fell on the road i wished i'd picked up
but feared i had no right to,
unspoken words
that translated into refrains of songs,
fear,
time.

and what do i do now?
sever etched pathways,
run through the desert, for the arrows
are beyond me, within me,
and wait for Orion
to open his portal and let loose
the angel of death?

For nothing remains...

“...how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?”
it's the same old drama, same old scene
the nightmare never stops,no matter how hard we scream



a grand total of 37, 508, 686 died during world war one.


in the muds of some distant plain, man kills man, again and again


There were 55,014,000 casualties during world war two.


and even in peace the same hideous scenes keep flashing across our global screens

Then there was Afghanistan.

And then there was Iraq.

And next?

Iran?

Korea?

We are capable of composing music to make angels weep, of writing plays to make audiences laugh, poetry to steal the breath from our lungs and still man's madness continues.....



...with an alarming regularity, the brutal nature of man surfaces with a violence that is both random and terrifying and ultimately depressing. how can any priest, cleric or holy man explain away this utter and total blasphemy?

one life.

one heart.

one kind.

one world.

You Know It's Summer When.....

- You start seeing piles of dark-green watermelons piled up by the side of the road, the vendor displaying one cut-up to reveal the juicy red fruit within.
- You want to take a refreshing cold shower after a dusty morning, but the water that bursts out of the tap is anything but cold!
- The tempers start soaring with the temperatures and your own temper is perpetually flaring beyond control
- The coolers start getting cleaned up and serviced for the coming season and you start wishing you had an air-conditioner, knowing very well that those damn machines are one of the reasons why we are experiencing an increase of 2.5-5 degrees Celsius in summers!
- All your clothes with high-necks and full-sleeves get buried under other clothes in your cupboard and those delightfully light, summery cottons with barely any sleeves get pulled out to the top.
- You can smell the frustration in the air; there is a restlessness in your spirit that makes you want to run-away, but yet lethargy seeps into your bones and apathy greets you at every step you take...
- At every quarter, you're greeted with a stall of nimbu-pani and gola, or better yet, ganne ka ras.
- You're dying to wear the sleeveless top you picked up from Westside, but two things stop you - the damn sun burns your arms if you do and the damn top is too damn transparent for buses! Grrrr!
- You stop seeking the sun for it's glorious warmth and start seeking the shade, hiding from the burning heat of the sun!
- You reach for the bottle of chilled Pepsi or Apple Juice in your refrigerator, instead of brewing yourself a cup of refreshing lemon tea, even though you know your tonsils are painfully enlarged and need the latter rather than the former!
- Your bedroom floor feels wonderfully good against your bare-skin and you wonder why you must get into your pajamas at all!
- You start drinking water by the gallons, which is a real shock to your mom 'coz she has to often remind you to drink your first glass of water at the end of the day!

Yes people, like it or not, the verdict came in this afternoon loud and clear...
We've just entered March and summer's already here (or as we now know, in Kolkata, at least) - and here to stay for a good long time!

Just in the past 24 hours, I came across more than a few incidents to make me wonder, whether we should celebrate women’s day or not…..


The number of rapes reported in the Indian capital in 2005 alone - a wopping 640 .


A 24 year old woman was molested inside Delhi secretariat - the capital's head quarters.


A Bangalore software engineer was arrested for killing his wife seeking dowry...

I got suckered into a philosophical discussion about the meaning of life. I say "suckered" because this is one of those many topics I choose to avoid…
When it comes to "what people believe", different people believe different things for all kinds of different reasons. And since, as I believe, there are no absolute truths -- at least not at our level of human perception -- there are as many different realities as there are people ...granted, many people share similar, if not the same reality. They believe what they've been told is so; and unless they have reason to challenge it, they continue to believe what their parents / family / friends believe. And since they believe what they believe to be absolute, any discussion of alternative truths is bound to be, at the very least, confrontational. Which is why I avoid this type of discussion.

Human beings are [for the most part] social animals, and have a tribal mentality. Even in our global community, many, if not most, people belong to and identify with one or more groups, the nature of those groups being (among other things) ethnic, religious, economical, geographical, sexual, intellectual, or gender.

The benefit of membership in such a group is the support of the group and all its members, however, the group as an entity imposes its own specific boundaries. It dictates what its members are to think and how they are to behave. Violating these protocols means running the risk of incurring the wrath of the group if not outright ostracization. And for many people -- most people -- being "alone" is the greatest of all fears ...being alone and having to make decisions for yourself, being responsible for your own happiness, defining your own reality, and creating your own purpose. So they (the possible dissidents) squelch their queries and suppress their oppositions in order to retain the security of group membership.
Well it does make me wonder as to how much this restraint affects our individuallity…….
And why, very few of them dare to free themselves of such norms and restrictions……

The "total" individual is usually anti-social, a loner, a social outcast, or a sociopath, not something anyone really aspires to be, or a label one chooses to wear, but these individuals are not constricted by social norms or group dynamics and are free to "think outside the box". Most of us, despite our group affiliations, do have aspects of individuality, where our thoughts are unique and different from the accepted "norm". The extent to which we embrace these differences is the measure of our individuality.

So many of the great discoveries have come, not from pursuing conventional beliefs, but from abandoning those beliefs and embarking on a completely different path. At the time these new concepts, (the earth revolving around the sun ... the world being spherical ... unseen microbes being the cause of infection), were considered crazy, obscene, and even blasphemous, and were met with much opposition and persecution. But these "different" thinkers had the convictions of [and held true to] their beliefs.

The true nature of reality is so much more than our limited concepts of time and space. Thought, sentience, and consciousness are so much more than just electrical impulses traversing synapses. Reality [is] perception, however, the true nature of reality is imperceptible at our current state of evolution. But some sort of perception is necessary. Although that perception is constantly changing as we evolve and acquire more information, we have to, at any given point in time, arrive at some momentary construct in order to maintain sanity.

I'm missing them already…. they have just buggered off and left me here. No, no, not in the "oh my god I can't live without them" sort of way.. It's more that I miss their humour, I miss spending a whole day, doing nothing with them, all those senseless, weird talks, the dives in the swimming pool or those impromtu getaways. These few days…..I have shared every minute, every second with them…. God only knows, when I would get to meet you guys again…..

I guess, it’s just that I had become so used to spending time with you people……
At the moment, the person I see the most is my grandma, and we've never gotten along all that well. Not really. I never realised how much I needed my friends to give me a break from her, a break from being at home and just being in a bad mood constantly. The part, that sort of scares me, is that, I don't think any damned thing will change that.
I got back that old taste of being a happy-go-lucky person in these few days and I loved it. I loved…. not having to deal with my granma's constant complaining about things that don't really concern me, or her accusing me of things I didn't do. If only she would leave me alone….let me survive on my own, without her, and for some reason I thought that she would have changed in these twenty days. I guess, I'm just disappointed that she didn't.
Well this whole thing is making no sense. It seems the wisky has already started getting on my nerves….hah!!

Am writing to complain about these words
you have given me,
That I carry in my bag...

They must be made of lead,
I haul them everywhere...
I've cricked my neck,
I'm bent with the weight of them

And when I get them out and put them on the table
they tick like bombs,
And overpower my own sweet tasting, vulnerable words...

I've been leaving them, crumpled up in pedal bins,
where they fester and complain...
And then you say
Where are your words my friend?
What have you done with your words?
Or worse, you give me that dewy look..
Poor friend has lost all her words...
So I was wondering,
dear friend,
If I could have a locker,
my own locker,
with a key...
I could collect them
One at a time,
And lay them,
Safe and sheltered,
With a garnish of
Honey and sugar.

Either this little rascal is rubbish at archery, or he is deliberately avoiding me...

It is that simple. I am as much as an authority as anyone else on negative circumstance, but perseverance is a mindset; you accept it and you move forward. We can spend all this time analyzing why things went the wrong way and how horrible it was, or we can spend all this time focusing on what will come next.......