the little gypsy boy at another new school

the mind keeps mumbling out its stream of logic, but somewhere, the words are lost before the reach the heart, the eyes. it keeps shuddering and it keeps raining. somewhere along the way u get so tired, of keeping up pretences, being polite, civilised, smile ... just smile ... takes such a huge effort.

the commonest of common denominators ... death. a handful of mustard seeds. how did it help her? it doesnt help me.

today is the 6th day of the Pujo. Once the world used to stop. My world. Now my world has shrunk to a pinhead, inside my heart, dried and shrunken heart.

I prayed a few nights back, before I closed my eyes, as the tears ran salty, sweet ... let me be alive again, please god, let me feel alive again.

always She smiles, sarcastic. to feel alive is to feel the pain again. to be alive is to face the truth again. to remember, to hurt, to expect, to smile and then cry. hiccups, shuddering breaths, crumpled bodies, on the floor, in the corner, behind the doors, on the tiles, lying face down in a pool of ur own bile and tears ... thats alive. or the only kind on offer for you for today.

bits and pieces of old friends, good times long, long ago, movies well loved, books once cherised, footprints left behind in the cement of memory, random memories shoved into an all receiving, all holding desk - from which (like "her") you can pull out long forgotten old loves for a smile and a tear ... diamonds and rust ... a mix and mangle of "remember when"s and "the first time i"s

from some dark and dusty corner, a cloud, a memory floats up ... a frozen pool, sorrounded by snow, a man huddled in the snow, in front of him a fire and eyes ... such eyes. is that really Your true face? are You really so jealous? must be, seeing the way life went.

why does it hurt? i didnt expect any of you to be my friends. to comprehend. to know how tightly we must hold the lid above our cages, we who have boiling demons inside, and cold snakes inside. i kept my distance, so that u wouldnt discern my masks. i wore my masks, bcz i was scared of you. down the ages, in different days and different ways, ur type has burnt my type at the stake. i have so much to hide, bcz i have so much inside ... and my deepest hate springs from my deepest love. i stay away wary, dancing my little dance ... bcz though i want to be your friend and come and play with you, i'm scared u'll notice: i have raw edges, here and there and festering bleeding wounds. they cant be healed. i've made my peace, with the stink and pain. u'll try to make it better and i'm so scared to ur symapthetic look. u thought me cold? a hypocrite. the pretender. i guess i am. then why, am i so sad?

Originally Posted at Prerona.

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