Monday, May 19, 2008


These are those times which were never meant to transpire. The fact that I jumped from a plane without a parachute was sufficient for it to rain. You can't call that unfortunate can you? But now as I am falling through a rarified ambience towards something I have come to hate, I don't know my probationary powers. All I know is that I have fellowship in thousands of drops which fall with me, none of them have chutes. Such indulgence would certainly call for reprimand, but I know I won't enjoy it, for it would put me back where I don't want to be. I am hoping to miss the ground with all my vengeance acting as a fillip to the parabolic drag.

I am reaching out to the iridescent diamonds; I am filling my imagination with their beguiled experiments with light. I know my eyes would never see this again, I know it won't be the same again. I am a flickering tort pursued by dampness, but it can't fall faster than me. I am a maladroit parachute in vacuum; I cannot feel what I can see. I am a deflated ego, following a Brownian trajectory, creating a perfect round halo. I never had a problem with striped shirts; I would look the same if I was wet.

I am flagrant for once, there were times when you could not unleash adjectives which defined the following paragraph, but we don't live in those times. I love killing the suspense. I love killing. Be it humour, fantasy, ego or rage, I know I have killed it all and thoroughly loved it. Never has pleasure for me assumed such hackneyed proportions, it is as if I would never be sad. I needed an infliction, so I decided to take the plunge. I am suffering now, the journey is the only respite.

Bitterness hits back with a rejoinder, and I rewording it. I swallowed something I cannot discern. Clemency was never a show queen, and never slept with me. I hate her. I love the bitterness of black coffee, I relish its cream. Under a leaking roof all I can feel is the rain. Everything else is a passing vagary, all mundane mildness.

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