"Who sent you!? I have dangerous friends out there."
"If you knew how many times I have heard that before. "
"What you want!? I can get you money!?"
"Well, I have heard that a lot too."
"Why you doing this!?"
"Because I have to. Because I need control. I am trying to make things as they're."
"Is there anything I can do to keep you from killing me."
"Then get away with this already."
"Well, I don't really take orders. But this case is an exception."
I peeled off the wrapper, slowly and observingly. Beads of perspiration danced on my face. Sweat flooded all over my body. I could bring it near my watering mouth. Stared for some time, at those luring lines. Licked it a bit. Took a tiny bite. Let it dissolve in my mouth and please all my buds. I crave for more. It's grave sings lullabies in my mouth. Slips and seeps below. I became the Baron of its barren lands. I forgot a piece rap the way I wrap nudity and forget peace.
Another victim enjoyed unwrapped.
I don't know what made me the way I am, what left me standing right between the darkness where all I could see is people, but from a distance. I have always felt a glass, thick and strong between me and the rest of the world. I have seen eclipse whenever I stand infront of a mirror.
Whatever it was, it just left a hollow place inside me.
The glass breaks often. I need to break in. For the fresh air. For the Sun. I kill people and glasses fade for a while. All the light feels filling the hollowness in me.
I kill people to breathe. People feel like faking a lot of human emotions. But I feel like faking them all. And I fake them well.
Hi!! I am Dexter. Dexter Morgan. And I am a very neat monster.
I wrote on a page, It left a stain. I waited down the road, I left my prints. I climbed on the trees, My gown got rusty. I wetted out my clothes, While I rushed when I felt thirsty.
They were crying again, I wiped down their tears. But then I cried too, I woke up my fears. I pushed in the air, I remembered my stains. My virtues are blurred, And all sins still rain.
It's night, it's dark. While the needle kisses three. I wrote a poem for you, Won't you read.!?
Do me this favour. Let me be a bagpiper, I want to write tunes, of a outdated survivor, for you, to leave, my name, my music, and free my blows to let it ring, in the name of the desire, forbidden a long ago, and my joy, my hurt, with ruins of my love.
“You should have come with us to Kheerganga. It was too beautiful. The place and the experience. I have fallen in love with Himachal. That beautiful place.”
I said as I started driving home with an office friend and colleague in the backseat. A man I’ve known for about three quarters of a year who joined my workplace as a junior and a guy I loved mentoring. He had been skipping the plans that we office colleagues used to plan.
“Harshit, it’s not that I will not love to hang out with you and other people. I would love it. Going to places like Kheerganga too. It’s just that I can’t right now. I hope I can discuss with you.”
“Obviously, you can. What is it?”
I took a left towards the Shipra Underpass.
“…Remember my parents come to my place a few weeks ago.”
“Yes. I do.”
“I came to know that both of them are suffering from Bone Marrow Cancer.”
I took a moment to slip in. The conversation suddenly changed. Cancer is a terrible thing and not one that we expect in our daily conversations. The weight that the statement carried pierced right through my heart. He is a good man with a good heart. But that’s not how life works. I didn’t know how to carry the conversation forward. He was the elder sibling to a younger brother in a family of four. Things like these are capable of changing everything you feel and your perspective on life.
“…Okay. Which stage is it? ”
“ The cancer is in the first stage. There will be medications for both and both can be cured. ”
I sigh with relief as I move right from Windsor Road. Cancer is a terrible thing and the thought of losing both the parents is a catastrophic and scary thought. Even the thought is so scary that I can’t even understand. He told me that he would move to hometown in Assam for a while for taking care of his parents. He would leave the job too. A journey I wished would have worked somewhat longer.
This event was going to shape my conscience over some months of my life. Some months later after he had gone, a moment came into the life that I expected was still some years away. Family circumstances will take me right from the front. The worsening circumstances brought my life to a halt and a feeling of pain. We are vulnerable when it comes to those we love inside and outside the family. The pain was so sheer that it took me days to be okay with it. There were storms raging in my mind for days. It became so difficult to focus at the office in a profession that is completely about focus. I couldn’t get my mind off things and I was struggling to not let my performance dwindle and to keep my mind sane. After years, I had felt pain. This intense. This sheer. I thought about him. I thought how could he even manage to sit in the office and focus on work for days with those circumstances hanging on his neck. That was a sign of a strong man but I felt what it would be costing him to afford this strongness. My problems are nothing when compared to him.
I’ve seen and observed people all my life. There are those attention seekers who will do stupid things and behave in an absolutely horrible way to seek your attention and account for their bad habits and circumstances. Blaming others for their decisions and consequences. And then there are these people fighting their worst battles and yet will meet you with a smile in the morning. I’ve known few people hard as a stone and too difficult to penetrate amidst all pain and yet fighting their battles. Often people who kept bragging about all the pain in their lives had shallow feelings to even feel it.
Anyone who says pain is a beautiful thing should be stabbed right in the chest till he bleeds to his death. Pain is not beautiful. Nobody wants pain. Still, I learnt that pain was a powerful contextual reminder of what really matters, whom we love, what we love and how we love. The very dichotomy of our lives. It’s not the joy or happiness that brings us to a moment to have a fresh look at life. It’s pain. People spend their limited time doing things they don’t like for people they don’t like to satisfy some stupid conventions. But there is a question we should take to our bed before we fall asleep. What really matters? What and who really really matters?
Reading time - 1 minute. Warning - mild profanity.
-------------------------------------------- "Oh, you're just a number!" --------------------------------------------
"Hey, Just wanted to get this off my chest, don't get me wrong, but the last time we met, I really wanted to kiss you." I confessed.
"Well, that's ok, haha, maybe you can try now? ;)" she replied with a blush.
We had a crush on each other and I knew it. I have starting trouble and she is daring enough to take this road down.
I thought about her statement for a few seconds and replied..
"Wow ok! Well, to be honest with you, the teenage side of me tells me to kiss you, but then there's this mature side of me that's opposing it. Tells me to wait and take it slow. So, as much as I want to kiss you, I won't. There are better things we can do first and that is, get to know each other. :)"
"Oh, wow okaay! That's some new shit, you sure you don't want to?"
"No. Not now, I'd rather prefer to establish some understanding between us. That okay?"
"Yeah, I respect that." She replied with a nod.
She was disappointed, I could see the flair in her smile slowly disappear. Weeks passed by, our meetings per week slowly increased. Just doing usual stuff.
One night at a party, we got drunk. I was moderately drunk, was still conscious and aware of my surroundings. She on the other hand, was plastered. She was tripping and screaming. I took her to the terrace to calm her down.
"Babe, look at the stars! The sky is so beautiful, the view is amazing." I tried to divert her.
"I can't see shit, I like your shirt, it's soft. Please don't leave me."
"Alright chill, sit down and let's stare at the sky and calm down for a while, maybe?"
So we both sat down and were just expressing our love to each other. At one point, she stopped talking and rested her nose below my ears. I could feel her warm breath, not going to lie, it turned me on. A few seconds pass by, she starts kissing me on my neck and at one point she bit me.
Things just escalated from that point. Next thing I know she's sitting on lap and we start making love.
"Sweetie, nah, we're on the terrace, what if someone sees us?" I was a bit scared.
"Fuck people, don't care bout' em." She started unzipping my pant.
The next couple of minutes had me levitating in the paradise of lust. I'll never forget that night.
I woke up next morning in her apartment. My head was aching, it was all blurry. I was naked head to toe.
I looked to my right and saw my clothes on her table, just then I realized my hands were tied, so were my legs. I panicked, Immediately looked to my left and saw a whip, hand cuffs and a feather.
"Wow! She's into BDSM, damn, fuck, ouch my back hurts. Ahh, baabe?"
I heard her voice from the kitchen, she was sobbing.
"Hello? Hello? Yes, I've been raped, help me......"
"What the fuck?!" My heart raced.
She came out from the kitchen with a dough roller and smacked me on the head.
"Anyway guys, that's my story, the rest you know. This is how I ended up here. Now I'm just a number." I spoke to the crowd.
To this day, I don't know how and why I landed up here. My family gave up on me, so did the news after weeks of coverage.
I started tearing up when the rest of the prisoners started clapping and consoling me.
Where are those hands of yours ? Not on my arms, their heart home. Tell me my love, do you search and search more? Trying to find peace and some light? Searching under the sky and over the banners of time. . My love, in those hands of yours coming heart home to port In my care, your safety and wide eyes are missed. Oh how this power of your delicate hands on my face, Is in everything I do, missing you. Here I stand alone, here I dream of two, us, in the passage Of today into tonight. Your smile in my view, or just your comforted, I calm the seas for you, Here in my arms, I love you. Find your flowers of reds and greens and yellows. Seek the warmth of the sun in your tears. Come heart home to me love, For what you seek, I get when your in my arms
Laying down looking at the skies above that tells me about us. . As I lie here, Your breathing in my air that surrounds me, If you weren't here, I would have no air, No breath, No life. . I see the clouds, So much like your skin, soft, delicate, changing shapes, as if your eyes gave hints to who you are. High up there, As a gentle storm. . Warm sunshine kisses my face, Tender as a smile you give, In the mornings, The smile as if in the night before, We made love, The place where we did, Go onto the skies, Flying from passion. . Wanting, desiring to become lovers right now, Wanting to ride those clouds, Touching them, Softly, Until they the become loaded And wet. . Wanting to know, If I made love to you, Would I be wanted And welcomed, Like a soft, summer, rain.
The cries of the day in love. . As rain drops, falling, floating, dreaming. Here the sun goes to sleep covered by blankets of gray tears, Some happy, some sad needing to be shed. . You and I, here, as the sky cries, get cleansed of blood and pain, Getting nourished for our starving hearts. . Over the oceans of time, into the air of emotion. As messengers, elegant wet clouds carry our hopes our dreams and stories falling on our skin. Little bubbles of dreamers landing. . Upon the drops felt, among the moisture on my flesh, Looking at your potent eyes, We are vines clinging, climbing, living off each other. Tasting the sweet wine on your lips. . These rains reveal, taking off any masks on me, who I am to you, my love for you, Simple, clear and warm. . Of all the times I think of you and my love for you my love, is more then all the rain drops that ever fell.
Bright eyes my woman of my death and creation, Red of red lips, the cold blade and healer of my blood, My fire and calming waters, You are the serpent and angel in one, written long ago for me. . Into the wind across the waters I seek you. Into the pits of hell and gates of heaven I desire to enter, Wearing your robe of fire, jewelry of thorns and kisses, hiding the fruit of all the sweet fruits, I march beating death and birth and my hungry bones. . You, a snowflake in the summer, a rainbow in a night. Hiding, masked of the Puma and butterfly, carved out of snow and sun. Into your valley I enter. Kisses among your garden for the harvest of the moon. Glory and fire looking eyes in your eyes, at the moment of my salvation and death.
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"You've been so good to me," she breaths high class vodka on my face. We are horizontal right now. She came home early, early in the morning, after attending one of the high class parties I introduced to her about an year ago. She's a regular patron of those now. "You take so much care, so much lisshte-hiccup-ning, how in the whole damned hell did you get stuck with me...I don't know...." She buries her head between the nook of my neck and shoulder, nuzzling it a bit, she has always liked that place. I can feel sadness radiating from her warm breaths. Few moments later she lifts her head, stares at me with glossy eyes only to rest again on my chest. Her body effectively disabling any movement from my part. I can feel her rhythmic breathing playing with my chest hair.
It has been like this for a year and few months now. I introduced her to alcohol to forget guilts and this brunette uses it to remember what saying love feels like. It has been a year since we started sharing a bed, just as fuck buddies and nothing more.
It has been a few months we had started falling apart in each others arms. It has been a few months of sharing our love for collages.
Corey Francis got up and took a drink of water. 'You already know the answer to that, don't you?'
Tristan Baxter didn't reply instantly. He stared at his psychologist for half a minute. Then, in a low drawling voice, he said:
'Do you know about the anterior insular cortex?'
Corey Francis nodded.
'They cut up my brain, you know. Did an MRI. Know what was missing? Anterior insular cortex. I read about it. It helps to process empathy. And everyone knows, psychopaths don't have empathy. They don't feel things the way a normal person does. So, yeah, if you go by science, I am a psychopath.'
'So why did you ask?'
Tristan smiled, his lips slightly parted, his upper teeth peeking out beneath his moustache.
'You may treat psychopaths, doctor.. but you are normal, aren't you?'
Corey gave a wry grin.
'I guess that depends on your definition of normal.'
'Oh come on Doctor, you know what I mean. You like to listen to music, watch whatever crap comes on your television, eat Chinese and pizza...get my drift?'
'What's your point, Tristan?'
'You are being paid to play with my mind. If psychopaths like me didn't exist, you would be out of a job. How messed up is that?'
'Would you like to eat something?'
'There you go. My point exactly. You try to distract somebody, it's by food or a present. Here's a news flash, I am not distracted. I don't get distracted, okay? My brain, it doesn't think like you.'
'You are talking. That's good. In the psych ward, you weren't. That's good. That's progress.'
Tristan laughed, and it was the hollowest laugh Corey had ever heard. ''And if I kill you, what happens to the progress? And believe me, I can do it. And not feel a thing.'
Corey Francis looked at her patient with narrowed eyes. She stood up slowly from her chair and smirked.
'Do you know what the media calls you Tristan? The Sacramento Stabber. You stabbed women. Young women. Women who had a future to look forward to. Women like me. So, you know what, I was given your case. You are my only patient now. My number one priority.'
That hollow laughter again. 'That means I am dangerous? A serial killer, right? God, I am such a cliche.'
'Tristan, you do realize that you will spend the rest of your life in prison?'
'Don't give a damn, doctor.'
Corey Francis sighed, the exasperation evident in her face.
'I want to tell you a story. You up for it?'
'I am listening, doctor.'