in the evening

its evening.
everyone's gone home,
or to their houses.
im walking back to the apartment.
its dark in this alley.
theres noone else here.
a stray bird whistles.
jetlagged from his trip back?
a heavy silver light leeks down from the moon.
im tired.
ive been up since five and now its almost nine.
1 hr travelling. 2 at the gym. .5 getting ready. 9.5 at 'work'. 2 at class.
the best two of the day. ofcourse he always said you cant say you 'love' something when ur no good at it. he also said if ur not the best ur no good. he also said when i was the best in something, just once in my life, that the things must be not good enough so i should quit it ... so i dont really love anything
it was dark when i left home now its dark once more.
its the time of day when the silence sings,
when the sky looks like a painting,
all clear, cerullean, with misty, gauzy clouds, floating across in a lazy sweep.
as you pass houses, theres smells of dinner,
soft lights, sounds of voices.
i almost to feel a bit sad
then i imagine - what if someone was coming for dinner
a long evening. bad grammer, ignorance, abyssmal ordinariness, blissful uncaring
or worse, a flat-mate. messy rooms, dirty loo, loud tv
instead im home.
its silent. as silent as tomb. and as peaceful.
my diary rests by the bedside table
every room smells nice. jasmine, lavender, vanilla, myrrh
everything is tidy. everything is perfect.
i cook what i feel like eating
soak in the silence as long as want
watch amelie for a while. and then to bed.
i lie there thinking. about many things
i do the accounts for the day, the week, the year
wishes and wants agaisnt shoulds and musts,
days spent, inches covered, distance from destination, destination needs revisting
new goals to lust after, new dreams to crash, land, or crash land.
new ways to prove, as ever, everywhere you go he waits
dark, gloomy, persistant. failure, my best friend
counts the wounds, count the blood, count the strength remaining
where did i go wrong. why did i go wrong
was it in the stars or in me all the time
they were right? my fault was in my beginning
o fcuk. did i lock the f'g door? the windows? should i check once more? naw ...
bcz ive always been like this
and the mind wanders back to childhood
the earliest memories
i shudder. i smile. anyway,
and u trace back to the beginnings
why cant i ever get it? is it so hard
just concentrate. just dont dream when theres work to be done
just try to get along with them
just not to hate them so much
is it so hard?
to neither hate them, nor pity them, nor fear them ...
then what? to be one of them? is that what you want? no!
then i tell my self im going in circles and cdrift off to sleep still lost
somewhere in the dusty attics of my mind
what time do you get up? is everything packed? is there a bill ive forgotten
the balance last time i checked
is the coffee maker ready
did i forget to keep the sneakers by the bed
what time is it in india. will there be a war. ma might be up already.
i have the window open.
i can hear the wind all night
if you listen long enough he opens up and tells you stories from where he was born, where he has been, who he touched, what he broke, all he swept away
if it rains i listen to the water. it sings ballads
about the people, the rocks, the trees, the forest
the sunlight filtering down through a leafy canopy
glinting on the a forest stream just where it bends
two lovers from the stone age
no long dead and perhaps, their souls many times recycled
the rock crumbled over the years to rubble, to sand, to silt
the rain sings of the trickledown of time
and how everything and nothing changes as it flows

i wake up again at 4.35. In my sleep reach out for the phone.
no sms. she's still alive. im still alive.
not a day goes by i dont think of her. not thing i do that i can concentrate.
she's all i can thinki about. live, dammit.
i do it for u. u do it for me. live.
anyway. mustnt think - just move.
get the coffee. drag on the clothes in the dark. pull on the snakers and go
outside, its neon blue skies.
the world looks better in the dark. like people look bearable from a distance

i have not love the world,
nor the world me
yet let us part fair foes. i do believe
though i have found them not that there maybe
virtues that are merciful, nor weave snares for the failing