Lest,

Love could never be associated with anger. You think. Because they are opposites. Love and anger. In their intense shades, however, ironically, they go hand in hand. Shooting up and nose diving like parallels. Like uneasy twins.

Today, I was out in the afternoon. And scorched in the November heat, I waited. For nothing in particular. In the dark exhaust of trucks that passed by. In the disgust on the faces of strangers. In whatever reflected of life on its surface. In the chaos of a forgettable winter afternoon.

I waited for nothing in particular. Except for time to pass.

And somewhere similar, you be. Walking by. Not stopping. Not smiling. Not remembering, me. Or anything that's even my distant cousin. Like you have had an attack of amnesia. It's ridiculous, what a son of a bitch you are.

But I don't blame you. I don't blame me. I don't blame love. I don't blame nothing. But I can't track this surge of anger. When my mind drifts to you. Back and forth in time. And sticks around what is now.

Now, you be. In someplace like I do. Under the same hot sun. The dust of a dormant afternoon, the noisy traffic. No strums of guitar, no flowers. Or diamonds or moons. Just an excruciating truth, that you had blinded me from.

I miss not you. I don't even love you. But that you broke my heart this way, heartlessly, I am angry. In fits of mad rage, I bite off pillows and end up in splits of tears. That I can't scream, makes me want to burst.

And again, I can't draw a line that connects the both of us that we used to be, to the beasts we have now become.

Why. Tell me why.

Or not. Lest, I get the unfortunate pleasure of writing an equally banal post once again!



8 comments:

Winter Song said...

This wasn't banal. Brutally honest, yes. Banal, Absolutely not.

Vagabond said...

there is a reason why I read each of your posts and don't comment on it. I don't want to say something that is already said, don't wanna say something that will spoil it. well you know what I want to say, don't you?

...

I just wanted you to know, that your writ is read.

Surya Prakash V said...

Meanings, the tipping point where your love and vanity clash in the name of dignity. Like the impotent who needs to be reassured of his powers of pleasuring the whore he has bought for the night.

The "why"! A bottomless pit, one is drawn in headlong, not knowing the distance from the ground. How fast, how long, how painful.

Just an incessant urge to run, touch, feel, change, KNOW!

Just be.

If you confront the darkness with a "WHY", the abyss echoes a million voices. Cacophony of your own noise.

And all one needs is the dignity of silence.

Give me the anger. Anyday. And outreach, outgrow, burst through.

Syed Ali Hamid said...

And, convert this 'dignity of silence' into the 'aesthetics of silence'.

Anonymous said...

love and anger.. anger and love.. Reminds me of a novel i read.. Dex and Em.. Em and Dex.. always together yet never so..

I m making no sense here..

Surya Prakash V said...

Yes Hamid - only problem is my eye sees only my arcs; and yet there is unbearable beauty all around; one has to just look closely enough.

Surya Prakash V said...

Wi - Your writing is getting more and more mature; and I refuse to equate maturity with the shades I can't see.

There is no reason to be good. Yet accepting the bad does not diminish the beauty. You are incredibly beautiful.

One should laugh at ones flaws, mistakes, never at ones achievements ; and those are already monumental.

As we sing our songs, I am glad there is a space where i feel your presence and fragrance.

Maybe you can write a book. The kinds that make money for wrong reasons.


You are my lover that never would be, that never should be - and in that - here is tones of evergreen love to you!

Many wishes!

Writefully Yours said...

"That I can't scream, makes me want to burst"-remains the central theme!