Today

You're somebody's goddess and somebody's whore,

you want everything and sometimes more.

You want torture and you want death,

you want to die with each new breath.

You have faith and you have belief,

you have tears and a little bit of grief.

You are the painter and his muse,

you are the truth and your burdens are a ruse.

Ripped

For when lonely souls grow apart,

There follows a strange ache of heart.

Blood and sacrifice and tears and sweat,

Poured into graves that are empty yet

Slowly filling with love and despair,

Moments of folly and those of repair.

Birds sing of unions forecast in the skies,

And somewhere far away lie dying lies.

Fiery Fairies

When you reach out the spell breaks. Suddenly it disappears in puffs of smoke and the air carries the last vestiges away to rain elsewhere on someone else. Desire that is fueled with wet wood burns with a smell of failure and futility. The smoke cries foul as it spreads and begins to seep into you through the pores of your skin and engulfs you from within. Everywhere there are fires which must be put out and trampled upon. Your own however, must be stoked and allowed to burn magnificently, till the sparks begin to resemble fiery fairies. Then you may get up and leave. For then, it will burn on it's own, dancing and merry and alone.

Besotted

He's wonderful. And he doesn't know I exist. It's strange and happy and crazy and beautiful. For the first time in years I am smitten. My school girlish infatuation with him disturbs me a great deal and is a constant source of amusement for a couple of close friends. There are dreams and fancies and castles in the air and a boy who doesn't know that I exist.

Sigh.

My Ruling Planet

Mercury is a heavy metal. It's quite flippant as well. The moment you touch it, it disintegrates into tiny silver balls which go rolling in every direction. Mercurial people are no different. We're too restless from within. And those who are mistaken with the appearance of a calm surface waste no time in trying to plunge through it. They don't realize that they can't. We simply vanish in anger and disintegrate from within. There's no looking whole again unless collected and stored in a different container. Once spilled, we remain spilled... for quite a while.

All the stuff about Geminis and birth signs is crap. But our ruling planet is Mercury and that isn't crap. We're little silver balls rolled into one and till yesterday I didn't realize that inner strength has nothing to do with how fragile you are on the outside. You can collect it all in one place but you can't change it's nature or it's reaction to temperature changes. The volatile defense mechanism in which we give out small pieces of ourselves rather than the whole thing is because we're scared someone will be tempted to spear the unstable surface and leave us to disintegrate. We're afraid that we'll be unable to put it back together again.

Mercury is a very heavy metal but it lacks depth. When you bring all of it together it'll look whole and good but it's always ready to fall apart. It lacks resilience but is quite cunning. It makes itself smaller and numerous to withstand the necessary prodding and touching until one is forced to give up. But that's the thing with mercury. You can't give up on it. You can't leave it to exist as a small version of a bigger blob or in tiny silver balls underneath the fridge. It's a very broken metal. But it's always eager to be put together again. All you have to do is find a way to contain it. In one place. And it reaches out and puts itself back together again for you. As good as new.

Bright and Shiny

There are some ties that are made in an instant. There are some that are broken and repaired so many times that they're unbreakable even if you want them to be broken. There are silly moments when you want to sit curled up on someone's bed with a newspaper and do the crossword with them. There are rituals that were meaningless before and have become something of a keepsake.
One shouldn't have to escape within oneself. Mornings before college is when I do that. I indulge myself. I walk barefoot all over the house with my cup of tea and then stand alone at the window nursing it till it's lukewarm. The window that used to be a balcony. It used to be the place where I searched for playmates down below. Now I just look across to the other building and beyond that towards the horizon. At nights too I stand there. Hiding behind the curtains. Listening to conversations meant for me and without me. I thought I was bright and shiny. I'm not too bothered that I am not. The ties that I make are not bright and shiny either. I'm very bothered about that.

Shrink Sessions With Kangaroo Babies

There is nothing wrong. With anyone. Education comes easy and love doesn't. We screw up, take wrong decisions or we just lose ourselves completely and make a royal mess of things. We get irritated and grumpy. We are young and we are wasted.

They're people who'd rather focus on your handwriting rather than what's written on the page. They will not appreciate that you can read fluently in four languages but would rather mock your accent instead. They'd rather make fun of your physical attributes than appreciate that you're the one person they come running to when they want something from the top shelf. They'd rather smirk at your sweaty hands rather than try and understand what it's like to be constantly in need of hydration and how the Indian summer screws you over more than most other people.

You're living with people who refuse to grow up. Who can't stop being petty because they'd have to face themselves. You have to pretend about caring to remember birthday and events in their lives while they pass you by. When you pull away they claw you back into their lives as if you matter and always did. You do not and never will.

In the midst of all of this, despite the blogging like angst filled teenagers you have nights of laughter and disdainful humour and still manage to somehow be.

Blah Blah

It's become a tug of war. With people and events. By the end of it you wonder if you even care.
A few weeks ago I received an email from someone I have spent years hating. I read and had nothing but disdain and contempt for them. The fact that I still had some sor of feeling was disturbing. I knew them at a time when I was just out of school and trying to grow up right. I gave that up a year ago. Now I'm just growing up in a lopsided manner with messed up views and staunch principles.

Experimentaion. Seems to be the rule of the day these days. This is what some of the most annoying conversations sound like:
"So you don't drink?!!" followed by weird contortions of the face in astonishment accompanied with a lopsided judgemental grin. As if I've suddenly grown a tail.
"Not really, I don't like the taste." I say honestly. Because I am stupid. This is met with more judgemental snickers. In my mind I have already stopped bothering because I realise that I'm talking to a dumb fuck. He persists however. As is the habit with dumb fucks.
"So nothing at all?! What do you do to get hammered?" His face is ugly. I want to punch it.
"I don't get hammered." I reply and start examining my nails.
"Shit, dude.. you're some chick... !" He drawls. I really want to punch him. I want to see if the various rings I'm wearing will leave a mark on his face.
"Are you retarded?" I ask.

It is not a good feeling to feel tired at the age of 22. Emotionally and mentally sapped of all ability to care. It's the one thing I used to have in abundance. The ability to fret. Now, I just give up on things. There are no more tears. No more angst. And it's a strange high to be done with people before they're done with you. The one with the nice smile I was done with two weeks ago. The one before that with the long fingers just wouldn't let go. So I left him standing in a busy street and walked off. There was one yesterday who pretends to know these things. Women and all sorts of things. I think I'll let him pretend and be done with him today.

Disengage

It is mindless, mind numbing and boring. I think I have begun to pity him. I hate that he looks spent. There are no more conversations and the words seem broken. All that I feel is wasteful. Wasting and wasted.