disenchantment.

I guess you can call it that.

not very unlike detachment really.

shaken. chills and trembling. i feel frozen. couldn't even muster a smile. no, this doesn't happen. i don't know them, only very vague pictures. that history is not mine. i have disowned it. and them. all of them characters of a charade, the part of me, i have long relinquished. damn them all to hell. do they think, figure they can waltz over, shake hands, smile and cordially conserve, and all that happens in the past can easily be put aside, and they be forgiven. they do not deserve it. apologies they haven't even made!

it's over now. i have forgotten. and i will not be made, hell voluntarily remember. those are not fond memories. no flowers in a garden, no picnic on boats.

i'm done.

they have no hold on me. i will not allow it.

it's alright now. they were here on a mistake. to see a 'friend' of theirs on a visit., not me, never me.

i do not recognize them, we have no relations. nothing, NOTHING on earth that could tie me them or vice versa.
 
whatever illusions they entertain, i refuse to corroborate them.

fuck, why i am even asserting all these. its no big deal, a misunderstanding that should not concern me. if they want to stay deluded then let them , i am not participating.

it's okay, it's over. and it will stay that way.

write.

1 word.5 simple letters.

I could not do it.

put anything past the temporal snatches that flits over my mind. draw something out of a barrier that insist so badly on being retained. a sheet of white. a screen, a veil. muffles me.

I am silenced now.

take me, drown, torture me, this blankness i cannot hold. it clings so tightly to me, too close, so close i suffocate.

breath, i need breath. air, now. air,air, air.

chest tight, can't see.

scream, i have to scream. yell it, holler and yawp.

this husk wants filling, this corpse wants revival, the skin desires polishing.

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

take this from me,
my shoulders are too thin to bear it
the lump on my back has grown too big
for me to carry

this baby is yours to grow
the toenails you will clip
the hair you will trim
the body you will dress

it would not have been me in the first place
we both knew this when you hand over the bundle
with pink pacifiers and blue diapers

I have done my best
you can see the mouth fills itself
with wailings of a deprived

you are here now,
take this away from me.

could it be?

could it be that we're together again
that you're in my arms
after all this waiting
the sweet smell wafting around me
emanate, flows from your wheaten hair
silk touching, enveloping me is your skin
faint heartbeat I hear
come from the chambers of your heart?

Then take me,
hold me even closer
clip my wings,
I've been stooping too low

I'm yours now,
As you've been mine
always.

I worry. I tended to ignore so much that it comes to a point where there's nothing more to be contemplated afresh.

I can't read anymore. My eyes pore over the words, my brain registered nothing. It is as if the connection is cut somewhere in between before reaching the intended destination.

I'm beyond forcing myself. Ugly and destructive as it may be, taking hold of my head and making myself look at the stark, barenaked fact is the only route left to me.

Fuck, I can't even write! I cannot transcribe the thoughts flinging themselves merrily in my mind. They froze when I stare across a blank screen, then resume their frenzied motion the moment I call for a respite.

No, no more of this. I can't do this. I won't. I'll just sit still, the world can continue on moving around me, I wouldn't give a shit anymore.

Revolve on your axis,
forget the sun that rose every morning
forget the moon with craters marring it
forget the tides, forget the stars
the prairie and hills, green grass and autumn leaves

I call on you, come back, come back

Look upon my desperate cry,
hear the numbness on my face
do I mean nothing to you now?