I have read a lot of books
That tell me
How my body is a temple
I should consider it sacred
Worship and respect it
Because, if not me
I’ve read a lot of poetry
On intentions and aspirations
How positive energy heals my temple in rubble
I wish that I could tell them
I do not consider
This body of mine
My body is no shrine
No place for the holy
It is a forest
In between is a swamp
You will find only twisted pathways
Wetlands that will drown you
A bottomless pit
For an excuse of a heart
A shallow hole that only wants
It functions on parasitic needs
The canopies have poisonous snakes
Spiders hide in the ground
If you think this is
Young, wild and free
I am sorry
To deceive you with my words
It is a forest
That does not give birth to life
It is overshadowed by rage and cruelty
Left by inhabitants that once tried
To make a home of it
It is not free
The vines will trap you
Hang you in mid-air by your throat
If you dare venture in too deep
There is nothing saintly cherished in the atmosphere
So, if you think that this body is a temple
Go look somewhere else
Because, this is a forest
Thick and Cruel
It will devour your heart
Make you a fool
Remember the time you were scared of the dark?
The truth is that it still scares you
But you learned to keep your eyes shut tight till dawn
Maybe, because you learned that everything in life goes away
If you ignore it with twice the coldness
You survived, didn’t you?
No monsters got you from under the bed
The dark demons hushed into a corner
Peaking daylight reminds you that it is another day
You are saved, again
Another day when you realize
The dark holds no demons and it’s you all along
And nothing scares you more than yourself
So you choose to remain ignorant to it as well
They say that in your broken places, you are stronger than before. I disagree.
You are not stronger but decayed. Your are plagued and infested in those broken places with hate, hurt, agony and pain. Yes! You are not stronger but in those broken places, you are dying.
What in the world is more stronger than a dead person?
Simply, feeling nothing is a blessing. You are dead in those broken places and you give it a positive name, ‘strong’. You know the truth and so do I. Humans have optimism to cover the bitter reality of life.
It is said that if a person loves the places you are broken and dejected from? It is love. No, if a person loves parts of you dead then it is love.
It is difficult to love the dead for long and sooner we forget about them. It is easy to love the living for presence makes it possible.
Dead or living, we all hope that someone might love us. Someone might cherish us. The only difference is, the living hope that it will come true and stay forever.
The dead hope it will come true but rot into nothingness, like everything.
The voices around her grew clear and the colors faded away washing everything in the shades of dark black till there was no difference whether she had her eyes closed or open. In the dark chamber where she had confined herself mentally now took on a more realistic appearance or maybe she was just hallucinating like always. It is a great feeling to hallucinate and create the surroundings you want. Sometimes, an escape from the real world and a lapse into her own world was one of the sweetest moments she relished just like a child relishes on the last piece of candy.
Here no failures or defeats existed but only a sense of sheer deadness that held all the serenity and peace she ever wanted in life. The sound of the water dripping grew clear. Drop by drop onto the wooden floor. There she lay still as wood becoming more aware of her body pressing against the coldness that came from the open window. The fan slowly hummed the sound of a moth. The clock made its usual ticking sound and here she realized that each tick represented a moment of the past. All she heard were noiseless noises that occupied her mind as she lay. Darkness had instilled into her bones and crept through her veins marking each territory.
She felt her hands moving around her. She traced the outline of the wooden floor and kept reaching out as an attempt to grasp something but not expecting to catch it. Finally, her hands touched what seemed like another body. What was that she touched? Was there someone else in the room with her? She got up in a hurry but couldn’t make out what it was because everywhere she looked, darkness encompassed her. Trembling hands and with a fast heartbeat she made out the outline of what seemed like a body. After tracing out the curves and ridges did she land on what seemed to be the thud of a heart. Thud! Thud!
It was alive. It was breathing, but too dark to distinguish anything. Her patience was running out and she craved for a source of light to make out who it was. She never hoped for a day when she would be wishing for the light so badly, but here she kneeled on the body trying to find the light to see who it was.
Until, it moved. The body move and she moved back scared at whoever it may be. Her heart anticipated of something mixed with fear but hope. The man opened its eyes to reveal gold color lights. The gold color illuminated all in its path and she made out a strong jaw line and a manly face wearing a stern look. The silhouette showed some features clearly while others remained a blur,
“You are?” she said in a trembling voice
“I am you childish redemption. I am your sin of lonely nights. I am the love you deceived in pursuit of lust. I am the innocence you exchanged for cleverness”
The body laid itself down, again. The words were being digested by her mind when she saw the body melt into the ground like it never existed. It was gone now but the words remained still in the air with the same heaviness.
The dark grew strong and the sound of water splashing on the wooden board continued. The fan hummed the same tune and she sat there becoming more aware than ever. Maybe, she was hallucinating again.
Don’t look back. Didn’t I tell you? Just don’t look back. It never does you any good. Hear me? It never does. Never look back. I keep on repeating this but you never seem to listen. If you have to close a door then shut it behind you but never look back.
If you drop something then leave it there. No point in going back to pick it up. Leave it. Don’t look back. Never look back. I keep on repeating this but you never hear me. Listen to me once. Don’t look back. If the voices call you and scream your name just don’t look back.
Don’t open the doors you have once closed. Never open them. You closed it off for a reason in the first place. Never chase anything that will lead you back. Never do. Keep you face forward and your eyes always ahead. If you have to look sideways then do, but never look back.
Looking back never does anyone good. It doesn’t. The most awful part is that looking back can be consuming. You wouldn’t want to be consumed so deeply and not get out.
Make it simple and never look back. Cut off all that holds you back and never look back. Never do. You left it for a reason there so now learn to walk ahead.
It might try dragging you from your collar or your legs but please don’t look back. No matter how desperate the call is never look back. It can play manipulative tactics to convince you to look back but please, hear me, never do.
For, looking back will only haunt you and bring pain. Hear me, never look back.
*He kept on repeating these words every single day on the sidewalk be it summer, winter or autumn.*
I kept looking at this person in the mirror which was now a soul instead of a body on display. Drunk and high, exhibiting the true colors it possessed. My soul. My body long gone.
My soul looked inside to search for all the secrets it hid, all the colors it didn’t show and all the stories it cherished untold.
I saw a person who was at war with himself. Mentally torn and dejected from its own being. Striving for a better future to put the pain of past away, tucked it under the rug and pretended that it was not there.
The body asked the soul in the mirror, “What have I become?”
The soul in the mirror had no answer but just wept at the state of what the body had become.
The soul in the mirror and the body on display started talking. They talked in poetry, short verses and pieces of prose.
“Live, Die, Live, Die, Colors, Sadness, Happiness, Obtain the needs, Consume more, Search for a new happiness, Pursue happiness, Never be happy”
The soul swayed like a pendulum with the body, they both moved parallel that night under the starlit sky and the silver moon.
They danced until they became one and then went different ways.
The soul to sky and the body to the earth.
The soul looked down at the body, now grinning, saying
“It isn’t love if its not painful, it isn’t love if it doesn’t make you suffer”
The body looked at the scars and smiled,
“It isn’t love until its lost”
This is what I became.
A dedication to someone dead.
An ode to all the addictions.
A poem to the heartbroken.
A story to the suicidal.
A piece of prose to the depressed.
A rhyme to those who loved.
A quote to the distressed.
I became immortal in the heart of many mortals.
I became the poison.
I became the cure.
I painted my soul and whispered to the heaven above
This is how I will cherish
This is how I will perish.
This is what I became.
Nothing in life seems to be enough anymore
The heroin that crashed once like waves in my veins does not seem enough anymore
The hash in my cigarette that numbed me down does not seem enough anymore
Liquor bottles and absolute drinks don’t cease to be enough anymore
My poisons don’t seem enough to kill the demons inside of me anymore
I kept asking for the ocean and got the river instead
Finally, when I got the ocean and drowned
It just doesn’t seem enough anymore
My beating heart doesn’t seem enough to keep me alive anymore
Love and hate, nothing seems enough anymore
My bleeding heart on paper does not seem enough anymore
This whole concept of living does not seem enough anymore
My love, nothing in life seems to be enough anymore
Today I spoke to God
I think we conversed a while
I said hi and we lit our joints
I told him how I betrayed myself
And how I’ve deceived the morals I held
He laughed and grinned
Puffed and I smirked
As I spoke of how I had finally achieved peace
He told me I was lying and that he could see
I smiled because he knew and said I agreed
How I am a shallow being lost and not seen
I asked him all this time where he had been?
He told me he was there but just not with me
I told him my purpose feels absent and obsolete
He said I’m not alone in this feel
I looked at the decaying rizla, smoke dancing on my hands
I knew God would be gone now as soon as the show ends
And I would have to light one again, in a while
To see him again
To talk our ends