it’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring

It started out as a mere trickle, which increased in intensity, fluidity and certainty barely a few minutes later.

I strained the saucers of my ears to the ceiling above, trying to detect the sudden sense of urgency that had somehow seeped through its porous surface.

Is it raining?

Leaping to the window, I gently separated the patterned folds of the venetian blinds to a softly illuminated rooftop of darkness and light, caught redhanded in play, in co-existent harmony and motion.

I can’t tell.

The shadow play of darkness and light reminded me of a story of Rara Cat rescuing Kittykot (and TP dog) you once wrote, and I wholeheartedly believed in. I wished it had been true. For their sake. For our sake.

It must be raining. It must, it must, it must…

Firmly, I tugged on the latch of the window, wanting to expose the viscera of my room to its outer exponenents of light and shadow. I held my breath, felt my heart twist itself into a pretzel, strained my aural capabilitites one last time in vain to search for the rain and in one almighty, forceful move, threw the window open-

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Raindrops, raindrops! Rain!

It’s raining, it’s pouring as the man without a shirt in the humidity of the night sleeps on the downstair sofa– as sound as little Johnny who cannot get out to play because of the rain.

I hope he smiled in his sleep because he knew that I had wished so very hard for the rain to fall so that he might sleep a little easier.

He must have.

~D.

parched

I saw her in the pictures, and I thought ‘If only I could have gone, I would have been her’.

Her smile brimmed with so much joy, I thought it would overflow all the way down to her muddy shoes, and onto the multicoloured grass made of discfuls of happiness.

I saw him, sleeping on the couch. Shirtless and old.

And I thought ‘If only I didn’t do what I did, he wouldn’t have been there’.

Heart filled with lead, mouth dried, as fingers stiffened and cried.

Howled.
~D.

how to save a life

Am I running out of vocabulary?
 
Perhaps I am, and perhaps I’m not. At times I don’t know what to say, and at times it feels like a barrage of questions are creeping like termites crawling up a piece of rotting wood, and I am so very tempted to vomit it out.
 
But I didn’t. Along with the frothing mouthfuls of very milky coffee and undissolved sugar, and the happy sphere of a girl with a candy bar for a shirt, I swallow the niggling questions. The sugar grains in the liquid feel out of place, like they are trespassing in an arcane place where they had no right at all to be.
 
Waiting for the producer of her self-directed movie to collect her thoughts, as she sits there, with an wandering, unsteady look in her eyes.
 
What could she have been thinking about? Those eyes have seen much more than I and most people have, perhaps. They blink inconspicuously, rest on the chocolate precipitate on the plastic cover of her drink, and I wondered:
 
Perhaps she was thinking about the undissolved bits of chocolate as well, and how they lie there, ostracized, neither solid, nor liquid. Not in the cup, nor out of it. Merely existing, occupying a state of mind and life frame but serving no one as they lie there, unmoving, unwilling..

trapped.
 
Perhaps she was thinking of how much we ourselves, including her, resemble those bits of unmelted sugar and chocolate that lie there, awaiting everything and nothing at all for an indefinite period of time. 
 
How do we save others when we can’t save ourselves?
 
Natai.
 
 

#5

How can a thousand words be shallow?

 ~D.

#4

I am running.

                I am running now.
                                                                I am running now,

                               always have                                                                                                     
                                                                                                           and will be.

                       I am running now, always have and will be; alongside antiparellel lines that seem drawn from a pencil so prehistoric in nature, it extends to the very first experiment in Biology the Omnipotent once attempted, to the very red button on the stopclock he first pressed

                                      and forgot about. He must have found the instructions of the procedure extremely confusing, for as far as I know, he hasn’t yet finished his experiment, recorded the results, and most important of all, written a definitive conclusion of it.

                        It’s funny how the Things Most Significant to us at a particular point of time completely overrides all other necessary functions in us –be it physical, mental or spiritual–the experience can be likened to being in a blanket-cave, where all you think of is just

existing in that particular space, and time, and with that luxuriantly downy shroud of whiteness slowly pulling over every inch of your skin, you hardly know why or what everything else seen from the minute criss-crossed windows of the fabric stands for:

why is a fan how is the floor
                              when is biologychemistryphysicsmaths?
  When will we learn how crucial it is to be able to balance everything in our lives at the same time and perform them flawlessly at each turn?

Antiparellel lines; spawning as far as the eyes can see both ways, backwards, forwards, we are continually engaged in a game of connect-the-dots with every plausible point of reference in the victinity. Essentially organic, always protean, it in turn makes everything less important stand in its place unmovingly, indefinitely–or for as long as it takes for me to procure some semblance of meaning and balance of the see-saw world we’re living in now.

Until then, everything else can wait.

I think we secretly love being postmodernists. It sure has a way of irritating a lot of people.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

~D

#3

Oh yes, you do.

~D

#2

I have always hated carpools with people. Vindictively happy today. I didn’t have to.

They intrude in your personal space.

~D

#1

I’m sorry you’ve changed it. Liked it the way it was.

~D