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.
