In the clouds
All the graves
I’ll stay if you
Go away
Concrete
Tall as the sky
Movement passi’n me by
When you blush
What a rush
Reminisce
Cold crush
Next door ear to the wall
All the tension on me for the call
I wish I wish…
And, I was indeed the bad man, the sad man. The gloom is never ending, and I hope it stays. Tonight’s no different, the skies lit up brilliantly but no sight of my brightest star, gloom – doom and a beauty to behold, not fading but piercing across the farthest horizons visible, the skies aren’t as pale as I assumed it would be, but it’s jaded nonetheless.
The incapacity of the mind to conceive and convince itself of multiple conclusions at a time has never been a tiring thing at all, it’s the lack of control at limiting the boundless diversions of the conflicting and consuming thoughts. Yes, I am a bad man, have been bad at switching on and turning off the emotional button, and deservingly so I was rewarded with this innate dynamics of the mind. On and Off, Off and On. But, then there was a control once, an external intervention as if modulating the impulses of the fickle mind I was born with. There has been no such control mechanism otherwise, everything outbound and outrageous and at times self destructive instincts safely guided and often grounded, with her playing both the plug and the fuse.
But, now I am bad, and all over again this self realisation isn’t as sickening as it had been earlier, for I know the emotions, both beautiful and uglily will find no takers of it’s course.
Love and happiness has been an ill affordable luxury, and this is a boon in disguise, I now understand. For now, the mind can think of multiple things, hold a few and jot down a bit. Tales of her presence, myths of love and sadness and the tragedy of fitting in and being happy.
The dark clouds shalln’t recede, and I pray it never does, for there will be spells of thunder and lightning then, the light of which might just help me in seeking and searching for her bits, the remains of which are missing.
Emotions switching On and Off again, no plug and fuse this time, no her. My existence and my salvation lies in staying put, holding on to whatever emotions aren’t sieved out, each grain of it is a piece of the jigsaw that’ll never come to form for the reference is now out of picture.
The sights, visions, sounds and her fragrance, reminiscent of the days bygone but not for good, the only good in me that now remains, will forever be the final remainder. All said and done, easier said than done; I am still bad, a bad man, a sad man, but a glad man.
“But my dreams they aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be…”
P.S: Lines from one of my favourite songs, ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ (Originally sung by The Who, written by Pete Townshend).
abhishek purkayastha 