The Chainless Cradle : Suicide

The chainless cradle rocked
To the piper who weaved his waves of notes,
Guiding us weak souls into his webs.

The Chainless cradle rocked,
Between infinity and null,
Between the sparks that enter and leave our body.

The season of fall embraced all the trees, leaves fall, flowers fall and warmth falls. It was another perfect fall that our mother is showing us. There is another fall that has taken dawn, that’s my fall. In the veils of darkness I search for my companion who was the driving force behind this world of mine. Loneliness seems to be the deserving answer that I get for all my deeds, silence for the first time seemed very disturbing and both of them combined have been putting their best efforts to give a deathly blow.

Death seems to be an obsession these days. The only hindrance from dying is my level of craziness which hasn’t reached that mark wherein suicide is the only treasure left to grab. It reminds me of the line “I have lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give,” from one of those older songs. At every signal post I wait for it to turn green, but sometimes that mere angle of punk surfaces as I try to cross it expecting to be hit by a car. Pain is a feeling worth experiencing at this point of time. Every ounce of my blood is thirsty for it. Sometimes I feel like picking up a knife, run it through my hands, feel the sharp edge of it, let it rejoice the color of blood, love its slithering motion and let it drip from the handle onto the ground. There are better ways to destroy self,

Night has been tainted to gray,
Clouds that carried all dismay,
Electrons triggered sparkling display,
I run close to them and pray
ELECTROCUTE ME!

Voids in a tiny atom,
In it lay a minuscule phantom,
Passed on its charge with a collision,
I put my fingers in the socket and scream,
ELECTROCUTE ME!

Past a dying field’s boundary, it sails,
Its intensity never bound to fail,
Transfer your energy through my face, pale
Like a new born infant I wail
ELECTROCUTE ME!

The sense of ‘hatred on thyself’ grows stronger every second, to such an extent that at one point of time I believed that lives of all those would have been far better had they not known me, my journey would have been smoother had I not lived in temple of lies. I am nobody’s hero, a force that succumbed to itself in the sanctums of its temple.
On a chainless cradle I swing between living for dying and living till dying, unable to take a stance, stuck between the words and worlds. A metaphysical world built around my ideals starts succumbing cataclysmically. The answer at this point of time is hitting ‘living till dying’ like everybody else in this world.

This is part two of self-destruction. I can sense blood oozing from the bowels of my soul, aggrieving of my naïve notions.

The frost settled on my lips spreading the balm of death. The hope of salvaging a part of the hurt soul, tying a tourniquet to stop its bleeding is still there. The battle will go on…
Till the day when I find a path to move out of my solitary shell.
Remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day and Paris wasn’t conquered in a day.

LIE

The wires are entangled, I am clearing the intricate twists and setting the wire straight. I turn my i-pod on and am jogging past the Locust walk. These days I have control over nothing, not even over my Ipod as it selects the songs that I listen to. It did select an apt song to start off with “there must be some way out of here, said the joker to the thief. there’s too much confusion in here, I can’t get no relief…..All along the watchtower, the princes kept their view…,” I feel like the joker in that song who’s agitated from lack of freedom.

Many days pass since I let imagination kick in. I try to think while jogging but unfortunately I am panting. Within ten minutes I arrive at the Schuylkill park, finish a lap around it in another ten minutes. Its time for a break, I sit down on the bench, take out a piece of paper and try to write a line, atleast a word. Its not as easy as an impulse from the brain that passes through the nerve activating our action to hold the pen and move it in a rhythmic pattern, its more complex. It requires an impulse that comes from the soul stinging our heart and forcing our brain to do the above action. I can feel the inability to rearrange the universe, suspend the stars from clouds, the force in me is fast becoming a lost possession. I feel like a droid controlled by the world around

I ask myself a simple yet complicated question ‘who am I?’ – a question that has been asked many a time in my life but never leading to a perfect answer. This time the answer is a rude awakening from the person whom I have deserted myself from “To the truest of senses and the most bitter of tastes I am the TRUTH, the truth you love to hate, its presence you hate to have.
I am the TRUTH my friend, so better not be in my world for sweetness is all you love.
This is the fortress without boundaries my friend. Once you are in there is no way out. “
It took me a moment to recover from this violent outburst. I realize that I reached a point where I am not only hating myself but also faking personalities to impress others. I escaped from my fortress sans fringes and got stuck in a cell surrounded by a system that defined the parameters of my world.

The night is fast growing old, filling the avenues with cold. People heading back home, those conversations on roads about democratic convention, about the eagles odds to win superbowl grew sparse by minute. Midnight joggers are tagged weird entities in this world and so I have grown to be weird. All these days of living a lie, bragging about lies, I try to reconnect with myself. I pass through the spruce street, with lights going off at my every passing step as if I am carrying a decree of darkness from a cast off world. The old story about the pied piper of Hamelin flashes in my head at this weird coincidence.

Another day dies a silent death. Not a word on the paper, not a thought written in my head. I move on like a dead man walking with his dead eyes glancing at the world with nothing registering in his world of numbness.

Socializing is the catchword that spread various aspects of humanity, that is believed to have connected various cultures, but it often produces a weird and unnecessary chatter yielding wasted minutes. On such unfortunate meeting happened once with the people around the table choosing to talk about their fiancés. A sweet topic to be brought up until the brag-a-thon begins with the perfumes to clothes, none describing why they were the chosen ones for the rest of their lives.
Unfortunately, my thought process loves to parry such useless banter. I know at one point of time the baton will be passed to me and I also knew that there are two ways to answer this one:

The truth is that I befriended with death, I promised her that she has the choice to come to me and propose any day and I wouldn’t say no. There are very few tomorrows in this life of mine, fewer with every passing today. One day she comes eventually for the final proposal to take me home and I would just walk with her on the altar. All that impressed me to be with her forever is her promise too take me into a completely new world when my force conjoins with her.

That’s a bitter truth my friend and in this game of socializing truth gets least love and is tagged bohemian. So I go ahead with a lie talking about the Polish girl, Megan Sczowinski born and brought up in Krakow and how my interest in Poland has become our subject of regular meetings. How easily this regular meetings blossom into love which happened because of this mutual exchange of information about Poland, how easily our relationship is leading us to a trip to zakopane next summer. People around the table start paying more attention to this newly burgeoning relationship. A well crafted, wily and imaginary lie might make the society happy and accept me to be part of it but truth is always a crude reminder of reality, a reality that always mirrors our truest self.

I have come to an understanding that truth has more enemies, lie has more friends and these days I seem to have more friends than before. I seem to find many people who want to grab a slice of my happiness. But where is happiness, my friend. I chose to sacrifice it, I chose to sever it from my life. There is no happiness in the shots of vodka that I buy for you nor in the home runs that yankees score.

In a world where the “money is the root for happiness” had become axiomatic, I am a pariah. For a person whose true pleasures cost no penny, he chooses to be part of this wicked axiom. That was stage one of self destruction, part of the soul has been sold to stupidity.

There is a deep abyss in this world that requires to be filled.

Deviation

What a deviation is it by our creator! He designed this skin to deviate us from what we ought to do in this world, he created this flesh on everybody to make them talk about its texture and its beauty. He made this layer only to digress us from the crude realities of life that go untouched, that remain unfathomable.

Actions on someone’s face never give a perfect path for us to delve into their mind. What for are we so obsessed of this skin then? Why do we argue about lack of honesty when the answer to it is known? Day and night we stand in front of the mirror praising ourselves of the beauty we possess, forgetting the purpose of our visit to this world.

Never do we dare to venture deep, deep into our world. we fear the deep forest, we move away from deep waters, we fear of the strong currents as we move farther away from the shore, we find those peaks unconquerable. There is a certain phobia writ on our minds about depth and distance which we tend not to erase.

We love building boundaries, ever since our existence we built walls in the name of kingdom.Those beautiful walls we try to protect, seldom expand but never demolished for we need a boundary to protect, a boundary to live. We love being finite like our body forgetting the infinite nature of our mind and hence we try to chalk out its dimensions. Where is the will to paddle into rough waters, where is the will to know thyself?

Trapped in this deviation and addicted to finiteness, we venture nowhere, we burn the threads of imagination, kill the vagabond who possesses route to the treasures we are supposed to unearth. This is the deviation that our creator had made, only few find a way to fall back on the right path, others love the ambiance of a cage that they have gone into, stay frozen in it till they breathe last. Only few are your true creations or are those who realize their true worth, others haven’t deciphered that this is a deviation..”

“Eventually, genesis sustains and nemeses remain in this world.

Hail! Thy deviation O’ creator!

Hail! Thy deviation!”