The Knotty Days are Here Again

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So the day I dread has finally arrived. And my generation stands on the cusp of marital woes...I mean whoas. Iceman, the coolest among us cousins has decided to take the plunge. I am, as always in awe of people who decide to take each other in sickness, psychotic frenzies and even PMS moods. I know I could never do it, and I am glad that they can. But marriages are a big time. There are family gatherings, discussions on clothes, food, and location, location, location. Bookings are made in advance, RSVPs sent out and apparels put together in hurried fashion. Of course, this is a occasion for the special couple. But who gives a damn about them! They are gonna be so exhausted smiling. The cameras need to focus on the guests. Yours truly had once said that families are the mafia of the middle class and I stand by it. So I am gonna take some time to tell you what I dislike (hate) about marriages.

For Elders(Anyone over 40..yeah.. the limit fell)

The worst thing people do in a marriage is pass comments about the quality of food, decorations make up or even the air conditioning. Don’t do it. You did not pay for it. Be grateful that you were invited.

Give the groom a break! Poor guy is already up to his neck with worry. As an elder, do not take this opportunity to subject him to the same torture and boss over him like your elders did. So Not Cool.

Do not crowd the stage during the final moments of the marriage. I would like to see the expression of the couple and not your bare back. And throw the bloody rice on the couple... Not on everybody in the front row. Please.

Do not…I repeat…DO NOT point to a girl and try to fix me up. I have been to the ball park and struck out more times than you bought a ticket… Wait… that didn’t come out right.. I mean, I’ll let you know when I am ready. So back off!

Do not let me know what you did in your age. We know what to do, and seriously, imagining you running behind girls can be a little weird.. and we got a better use for our imaginations.

Please let me enjoy the wedding and not recount it in albums. I would appreciate it if you did not send me on chores that are already completed or easily done by someone else.

If you are really hungry, hit the lunch line before. Do not wait for the last moment and then try to get into my line. I won’t allow that. And Ramu don’t share food!!

To the Groom

Dude, you know you are gonna be shirtless for the day in a southie wedding. So hit the gym… and shave.. Please… you will be thanked for sparing our eyes the sight…

Smile. We understand people can be a little embarrassing and the veshti is tough to handle. Be Cool.

Try to do whatever the priest asks you to do and get it right on the first try. Please, we got to get to the lunch line before they run out of jangris.

Don’t ask me what do I do when someone ‘tells’ you to do something. I don’t know. Haven’t been there, not done that.

To the bride

Please smile. Your parents would like to know that they are making the right decision. It is reassuring. Believe me.

Go easy on the bridal makeup. You are gonna be sitting in front of the fire anyway. I’ve seen brides who look like they were caked with powder.

Do not give the groom grimacing looks. Poor guy is embarrassed already.

Parents

Well, what do I say… it was your call. So take it on the chin and bear it.

Delegate. You cannot be everywhere all the time. If there are people pushing your buttons, you are within your rights to tell them ‘Go fish’ (other unacceptable words included)

Do not judge family loyalty based on people attending the wedding. This is a family, not the mafia (which is also a family, anyway).

We understand, these are pressure filled days. Try kickboxing, Tai chi or yoga. Do not use me as the transferred epithet.

Do not play politics. Do not take centre stage. The kids need to take over this time. ;)

Other than this, I am fine with weddings as long as it is not mine. Iceman, you my brother and I am happy that you are making this step. Have a good one dude.. Hope I get to enjoy it more than you do.. J

All opinions expressed in this blog are solely mine. If you find them offensive or disturbing.. Heck! Like I give a damn! :P

Come let us talk..

Image via Wikipedia

Come let us talk, 

In evenings spread above

Crowded railway stations

And impatient waiting people.

Let us talk,

About lost friends

Slowly vanishing in the crowds, 

Connected online disconnected in reality, 

Waiting for a blinking phone. 

Come sit by me, 

Come sit down

At the edge of the hallowed ground, 

Now old and weary and tired, 

Like us, and talk about old memories. 

I have been meaning to call you;

But never quite did. 

Don't think i have forgotten you,

No.

When days were tiring and long, 

When nothing made any sense,

When i was bored to death,

And yet, death seemed better, 

than the life i lead;

When i was tired to the bone, 

I'd remember your voice, 

Your annoying jokes and weird noise, 

Your face felt familiar than my own,

But lets not waste time reminiscing, 

Come let us talk

Over a cup of coffee,

Or the classic milds

This one's on me, friend!

Know ye not that Ye are Gods...

Image by Yves. via Flickr

Know ye not that ye are gods.

Everything moves so fast. The day rises, the night is past. Stillness is unresolved and time stilled. I watch the cricket match, and eat to my fill. The match is still on and I drift to sleep. The hand I feel on my head is warm. I know it is mom. She tucks me in and switches off the TV. I turn quietly and watch her go back to work. Wonder what she has to cook for now. She won’t ask me to help. Even if she needs it. It is my day of rest. And yet, there is something that bothers me. Her sacrifice is unnerving.

Know ye not that ye are gods.

He bows down and lays flat on the ground. His nose touching the granite floor. The ceiling dances in light, decorated with ornate sculptures and manmade creations of angels in the sky. The corridor is lined with statues of gods with more than four arms. Yet, all of them have human faces. Except the last one. He has that of a monkey. Somewhat apt, I think. Darwin would be pleased. I look up and the main deity stands 12 feet tall, with every part of his body, except the face decked in ornaments. Prosperity and power are necessary criteria for gods. I, cynical, ask him why he prays. Knows he not that he is god. He smiles and tells me no. Till the time I realize, I need to pray. I give up.

Know ye not that ye are gods.

One of the kids tugs at my pants. I look down at his sad face. He plays charade with me. 2rs. Hungry. Food. I am good at this game.  I nod. No. I point to the vada pav stand at the station. He follows me. I order two. One for you, one for me. I look down. He’s multiplied somehow. There are now four kids beside me. I laugh to myself and order three more. They walk off without a thank you. I got 4 bucks in my pocket. Will miss my cig today. Anyways, I am trying to quit.

Know ye not that ye are gods.

I am crossing the street. The cars are screaming past the group of wary passersby huddled together. I stand in the middle, bursting to go. I spot a gap in the coming vehicle flow. This is my chance. I step up. The car is green and fast. Someone tugs at my shirt. I fall back and let the vehicle pass. Life within inches. Death within inches. I look back at the sixty something frowning at me. I cannot decide if I need to say sorry or thank you. I thank him. He walks off with the rest. My life restored to me. Without asking.

Know ye not, then that ye are gods. 

The necessity of pain.

 Pain. The first emotion every human experiences. The last thing they feel before they crumble to dust. In this awfully long journey pain remains the only constant companion remaining with us in the end. A life devoid of pain can only be death. It is the nagging housewife, who, however irritating she might be, is the person you come home to after the day. Every human undergoes pain. Every single hour, minute, day we either suffer or inflict suffering. 


If this is true,I find it very strange that mandoes not look upon death as an peaceful end,rather than the terror he perceives it to be.As though life,being an clever and cunning businessman sells his sugar coatedpoison to us at relatively cheaper rates than death,who sells it in its unadulterated and bitterest form.It is a question philosophers have argued and fools like me pondered over,for centuries.Why does man enslave himself to undergo the ardous tasks of life than accept the peaceful regime of death?

I don't know the answer.I might never know it.At the most,I can guess that we,human beings dislike peacetry as we may,we cannot bear tranquility as the order of the day.It is the troublesome process of obtaining salvation that fires our excitement than the object of salvation itself.Maybe it is the constant flow of blood in our veins,or the unstoppable pitter patter of our hearts that leads us to beleive that complete calm is the stagnation of mind,body andsoul.Put in simpler terms,the only way we can obtain peace is by embracing death.This might explain why a lot of philosophers have chosen to immerse themselves in the melancholic pain of everyday life instead of searching bliss.

Pain is the essence of life.It is what keeps us alive.There are a million ways to define pain,but not one is appropriate enough as the feeling itself.Pain is that burning sensation that runs through your body,when your father canes you .It is that uncontrollable emotion that overcomes the heart of a young wife,when she wheels her husband into the emergency ward.Pain is all this and more.

Pain is a catalyst.It is that hearth of fire upon which the glass of your life is molted and shaped.Too much heat,and the glass is destroyed.Too less,and it is wasted.It is the subject upon which we decide the course of our actions.To escape the pain of hunger,we suffer abuse and slave on at work.To escape the sting of a merciless society,we go through days and nights of unwavering fidelity towards our education.We suffer.Anyways and always.Except,we reduce the degree of torture we inflict upon ourselves.

Jeremy Bentham,rightly put pain and pleasure as the two masters of human nature.Undoubtedly,pain is the stronger of the two.I doubt if we would strive as hard to acheive something for ourselves,than to escape the pain of something else.Pain is universally powerful.It can make philosophers out of fools like me,and fools out of kings and warriors.Life does not cause pain,pain causes life. My father once told me,"Pain is the only way you can find out if you are still alive."

A poem written when i was in FYBA

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Came across an old poem of mine in my FYBA book... I had skill.... and i hated to sit in a classroom... Read on...

The empty whir of a fan, 

In an emptier classroom,

28 dreaming eyes 

In a literary tomb;

The notebook flips a page, 

Trying to make me read

Like a bird in a cage

repeating a dead creed

I see trees waving at me,

And the wind rushing by,

But all i can do is see

and maybe, let out a sigh.....

Lovers and gentlemen

Image by mugley via Flickr

Ladies, Lovers and gentlemen, 

Lend me your ears, 

I come not to praise love 

But to bury it; 

The damages that relationships cause

Live long after the heartbreak

And the good they do

is oft buried under the heartache, 

And under leave of you do i come

To have my say on this valentine's day.

Mine is a love that has been hurt

Undeservedly thrown down and burned, 

It is the love of the killer mantis

But you tell me love is gentle 

And you are all romantics; 

Whenever has a heart loved

Has it suffered,

Every lover has a pain to hide

A hidden history to abide

 love should be made of gentler stuff,

But you tell me love is gentle,

And you are all romantics.

No i do not speak to disprove

or aginst you wisdom show,

i only say what i know

I have lived, loved and suffered

For a broken heart do i have to offer,

Yet if you promise me heaven for my hell

Then pray tell,

where such a love dwells?

Awara by majaz

An ignored ghazal by one of my favorite poets in urdu... and since i only read transliterated urdu.. here goes a work which touched my hearts

By Asrar-Ul-Haq-Majaz

Shaher ki raat aur main naashaad-o-nakaraa phiru
Jagmagaati jaagati sadakon pe avaara phiru
Gair ki basti hai kab tak dar badar mara phiru
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu.

Jhilmilate qumqumon ki raah mein zanjeer si
Raat ke haathon mein din ki mohani tasveer si
Mere seene par magar chalati hui shamasheer si
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vahashat-e-dil kyaa karu

Ye rupahali chhaaon ye aakaash par taaron ka jaal
Jaise sufi ka tasavvur jaise aashiq ka Khayaal
Aah lekin kaun jaane kaun samajhe ji kaa haal
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Phir vo Toota ik sitara phir vo chuyi phuljhadi
Jaane kis ki god mein aaye ye moti ki ladi
Hounk si seene mein uthi chot si dil par padi
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Raat hans hans kar ye kehti hai ke maikhane mein chal
Phir kisi shahnaaz-e-laalaarukh ke kaashaane mein chal
ye nahin mumkin to phir ai dost viraane mein chal
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Har taraf bikhri hui rangeeniya ranaiya
Har qadam par isharaten leti hui angdaiyan
Badh rahi hai god phailaaye hui rusavaiyan
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Raaste mein ruk ke dam le lun meri aadat nahi
LauT kar vaapas chalaa jaau meri fitrat nahi
Aur koi hamnava mil jaaye ye qismat nahin
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Muntazir hai ek tufaan-e-bala mere liye
Ab bhi jaane kitne darvaaze hai vaha mere liye
Par musibat hai mera ahed-e-vafa mere liye
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Ji mein aata hai ki ab ahed-e-vafa bhi tod du
Un ko pa sakta hu main ye aasara bhi chod du
Haan munasib hai ye zanjeer-e-hava bhi tod du
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu
Ek mahal ki aaa se nikala vo pila mahtaab
Jaise mullah ka amamaa jaise baniye ki kitaab
Jaise muflis ki javani jaise bevaa ka shabaab
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Dil me ek shola bhadak uthaa hai aakhir kya karu
Meraa paimana chalak uthaa hai aakhir kya karu
Zakhm seene ka mahek uthaa hai aakhir kya karu
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Muflisi aur ye mazahir hain nazar ke saamane
Saikdon changez-o-naadir hain nazar ke saamane
saikdon sultan jabar hain nazar ke saamane
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu


Le ke ek changez ke haathon se khanjar tod du
Taaj par us ke damakata hai jo patthar tod du
Koi tode ya na tode main hi badhkar tod duu
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Badh ke is indar-sabhaa kaa saaz-o-saamaan phunk du
Is ka gulshan phunk du, us ka shabistan phuk du
Takht-e-sultan kya, main saaraa qasr-e-sultan phunk du
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Ji mein aataa hai ye murdaa chaand-taare noch lu
Is kinaare noch lun aur us kinaare noch lu
Ek do ka zikr kya, saare ke saare noch lu
Ai Gam-e-dil kyaa karu, Ai vehshat-e-dil kyaa karu

Pakda pakdi

Image by Julien Lagarde via Flickr

The night waited stilly on me. It was an old habit of an old friend. I watched the mail trains speed past breathlessly across the tracks. The digital indicator ticked slowly second by painful second. I sucked on the last embers of my smoke stick and waited. My mind had not yet awoken, my heart was not yet asleep.

It was an old habit which had lost touch with me. These late night walks were my source of mental exercise. My thoughts just can’t refuse at the sight of an empty street. They start running at breakneck speed, but in a more clear and organized way. Like runners In a parade. I sat there watching trains run across parallel tracks snaking into the dark neverland. The station was dotted by a couple of beggars, who had dragged their tatters over their head to fight the night cold. The only other noise which punctured the chilling air was the squeals of a couple of kids running around the platform.  These little tykes ran around the cement seats making noises enough to make the sleeping constable grumble. I smiled. There is something liberating about childhood.

One of the kids walked up to me and stood near my seat. I looked up from the smoke and smiled at him. He looked like he had a question to ask, but just smiled. He would have been 6-7 years old. His ragged half pant was green, but had begun to turn into an imperceptible colour. The hair was black fading to brown. He was missing two teeth in the front, and the stains of his last vada pav were still visible on them. He smiled again. ‘Kya chahiye be?’ ‘Ap yaha kya kar rae ho?’ he asked.  ‘aise hi…Tu kya kar raha hai?’ ‘hum log khel rahe hain’ By now the remaining kids had gathered round.  They were playing pakda pakdi. I remembered the last time I had played the game. I was 10 and the smallest kid in the building. I never managed to catch anyone, so I gave up on playing.

I trundled out of the station by 1. The kids were running around on full steam. They didn’t look like they sepnt a day on 3 vada paavs and a cutting. They were smiling, laughing, cursing. I looked at them living their childhood. Free. Free from studies and tuitions. Free from school. Free from thoughts about a career. Free from parents looking to mould them into future investments. Free from fear. But then I looked at them again. Perhaps, this is the only freedom they have. As children. Soon they too will grow up. And the chains will rattle again. life will again chase them, hunt them when thy hide and vanish when they look for it.... Pakda pakdi

Epiphany...

I am a million thoughts

Bound by unborn expressions

Woven without a seam.

The undignified youth 

With a corrupted dream;

 Uncouth, vague, undefined;

Volatile, dull, unrefined.

The last of the best

The best of the worst,

The blessed sinner, the gentleman accursed

I am

Empty thoughts traveling on rattling trains

Getting up and down at crowded stations;

Whatever is, will be and has been
the sight beyond, the unseen.

I am

The surprising birth, the unexplained death

The beating heart, the fatigued breath.

Love lost, found and lost again

The broken heart stitched together in pain.

I am

The answer to a million mysteries

Never found never looked for

The questions raised by years of history,

Plague, sickness and war

I am

A million people speaking together at once

Gathering at crowded malls and marathon runs

I was and always will be

I am and forever will be.

A lot like Love.

Image via Wikipedia

A simple conversation with a friend got me thinking about myself. The conversation was about relationships, more specifically the eternally complicated concept of love. Now, I am not the most expert orator on this thing, but it did get me thinking about my past, my relationships and people I have lost over time. Strange thing is I never thought I would remember them. Every time these memories come along, they bring with them a familiar pain. Numbing, dull and one that takes the wind out of your lungs. Nothing you do, will help you get over it. Get over it – familiar term. Reminds me of every one of those moments when my friends say ‘You’ll get over her.’  And I nod. Stupidly.

Can you ever get over someone? Can you just walk around forgetting a crush, heartache or a relationship? I don’t think so. These are memories. Not photographs; to burn and throw down the toilet bowl to flush. These are tattoos across your soul. You can’t remove them without causing permanent damage to yourself. I know. I have been there and been unsuccessful. Very. The pain is often unbearable. Sometimes it feels like you can’t breathe and every gasp of air feels like flames entering your lungs. Everything dulls in front of your eyes and the world seems fading away. But you don’t die. You live the pain again. For as long as you can; till you forget what life without the pain was like.

But pain is good sometimes. It tells you if what you lost was worth having.  If all those moments that you filled your life with were worth their little pleasures?  And they are. Like pleasant accidents you never plan. All you can do is experience them. I laugh at people who plan so much to fall in love, but try to ‘get over as soon as they are hurt. They forget ‘being in love’ is more pleasing than ‘falling’ in love. Yes, it hurts. Like the first ciggie. Like the first gulp of whiskey on an empty stomach. It burns. It fills your lungs with hot air. But you wouldn’t give that pain away for anything. Addicts are not invulnerable to hangovers and the pain of the substance. They are aware of it, but they do it for that one singular moment of incomparable pleasure. Where nothing else matters. I know this is a bad example, but you get it.

Call me a fool, a romantic or just a deranged drunk babbling; but I am in love. And I will always be. It is the most beautiful feeling you can experience. In fact that is the only way you can exist. All you can do is go through life sharing that love and hoping to god, someone does the same with you. That is all there is to it. If it hurts, let it. Wasn’t I born of pain, and shall I not die of it? i wouldn’t give up those memories for pleasure or comfort. And that is why I love, and live. J

11 for 2011!

I was planning on not having any resolutions this year, but I hate to live life without something to look forward to. So I gave it a thought. After three cups of coffee to cure the hangover, and a run throough my last writings, I jotted down a list of things I would like to do this year. So here are things I look forward to in 2011

1.Gain Weight

There once was a time when I was fat. Unbelievable but true! Now I could star in one of those ads against anorexia. So I want to gain weight again. It would be nice if I could actually take off my shirt and not have my pants fall off! :P

2. Get a tattoo

Now this has been a lifelong dream. I still haven’t decided on the design I want, but I really want it at the back of my head (which I am gonna shave). At 24, its now or never!!

3. Mend relations with dad.

I was thinking of putting this on the top of my list, but then I would be lying to myself. And putting this below no2, creates a conflict of irony as always.. So lets see if I manage both..

4. Start Investing (Take Responsibility)

This has been my bane. I cannot handle money, nor do I care about it. But all evidence points that I need to move in the opposite direction. I have started reading on certain investments and really have begin to believe in the role of aliens in the shaping of our civilization. Who the f@#k understands these things?

5. Call everyone who doesn’t remember me

Everyone has a bad habit. Well, I got them all. But losing touch with them takes away the fun. So this year, I am going to start calling everyone who hates me. It might take me the whole year, but I just miss those awkward conversations

6. Stay sober more often

I know I know…. I am on it... The lesser said about it the better.

7. Spend lesser time on FB

I am beginning to get annoyed by this trend of social networking. I intend to start using my phone on a more regular basis. Hopefully! Damn you Zucker- berg!!

8. Get my ass on the road!

 Trust me, I have been on my share of trips(hic), but a road trip is the least immoral, unethical and uncomplicated of the lot. Remains my dream and something I hope to accomplish this year. Hopefully to the Himalayas.

9. Get back to ABC…

One target for this year, remains getting my MA degree. There is nothing more important and necessary for me and needs to be taken care of ASAP.  Let me start by putting it on this list (at least I’ll have mentioned it! :P )

10.Spend more time at home

Something I have not done enough last year.  Can I hear an aww cho chweet? ;)

11.Start writing more often

Going with the 2011 theme, my 11th thing to accomplish this year would be to write my blog more often. This is difficult, being that I spend my whole day writing. But I really miss those creative exercises and hope I start writing shit like I used to. Nothing makes me feel better in the morning like the smell of pissed on paper :D

So have fun reading, cos I gotta get working on the list.. ciao. 

Dreary Christmas

It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
With the kids all yelling
And everyone telling you "Don’t you drink beer" 
It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
It's the hap-happiest season of all ;)
With awkward meetings and status and tweetings 
When friends come to call 
It's the hap- happiest season of all  (Ohh yeah!)

There'll be parties for hosting 
Plenty of boasting 
And everyone blows..  
There'll be scary childhood stories 
And tales of the boring 
Christmases long, long ago 

It's the most wonderful time of the year :P
There'll be twisting and turning  
And hearts will be  burning
When relatives are near 
It's the most wonderful time of the year (yeah ryte)

A poem by Nida Fazli.

Safar me dhoop to hogi

Jo chal sako to chalo. 

Sabhi hain bheed me,

Jo tum nikal sako, to chalo. 

kai manzilein, raaste hain yahaan;

Bane banaaye saanche hain yahaan, 

Jo inme dhal sako to chalo. 

Kisi ke liye kahaan raahein badalti hain, 

Jo apne aap ko badal sako to chalo. 

Koi kisi ke liye raasta nahi dega, 

jo mujhko giraakar tum sambhal sako,

To chalo. 

Sabhi ko hai mehfuz raaston ki talaash,

hifaazaton ki rivaayat badal sako to chalo. 

Kahin koi suraj nahi, Dhua dhua sa hai fiza,

Apne aap se baahar nikal sako to chalo. 

Bas yahi hai zindagi; 

Kucch khwaab, chand ummidein, 

Jo in khilounon se dil behla sako to chalo. 

                     ----    Nida Fazli.

Sleepy half baked memories

Image via Wikipedia

Sometimes in the empty thoughts that crowd my mind, I see familiar faces. Faces that once stood for something. Smiling, laughing, joking, and yet strange in their appearance. I remember them, but I do not know why I remember them. Why do people affect you in so many ways, when you do not even talk to them that long? Yet, there I am, plagued by these bitter sweet memories, trying to remember why I remember them. They are long lost friends. People who did me a favor or two. Dates that I never repeated. Strange encounters on the bus and trains.

Sometimes when I am lonely and lost, when times seem too difficult to make conversations with people around me, I recall them. And usually, they are stuck in that perennially happy moment. And I stand at a corner of this imaginary dream and watch them laughing, joking and smiling. And I like to think they remained like that forever. Nameless, they light up my day without any reason. If you have seen me staring at blank walls and smile, you know what I am talking about. But somehow, that is a moment I remember these characters in. And in that moment when smiles become identifications, I can see my heart lighten up and smile. Some people smoke, some drink, I just lose myself in memories. Cheaper, simpler and well, no side effects.  

Sick to the Stomach

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The veins on my hand stand out. It feels numb, cold and strange. In many ways, it is not my hand at all. Punctured and poked with so many holes, in order to feed my body, it has lost all its strength. My stomach rumbles; craving for some comfort food, and yet all I have by my side is bland porridge and cold milk. The first gulp I take feels like cold metal entering through dead, rusty pipes into an old warehouse. What did they do to me? Did they strip me of all my senses? Can I no longer taste, smell, see like before? My eyes burn like I have never used them before. I try to take a few steady steps before stumbling back. Parched throat and hungry stomach add to the sapping weakness that makes up my singular structure.

Sickness can do so much to a human being. It can rebuild him, change him, or destroy him. Or like in my case, it can chew him up completely and spit him out; leaving the remaining to be sucked out by the merciless world. All I can do is wait!  

Leaving Memories..

Image via Wikipedia

I’ll remember you

When someone talks too loud,

When one person speaks enough for a crowd,

When people enter the room like a storm,

When insanity becomes the norm,

When I hear the hauntingly annoying tune of a song,

When meaningless conversations run for too long,

When I hear another one of those weird sneezes,

That make me sit up and go ‘Jesus’!

I’ll remember you;

I’ll remember you

For all the silly stupid, nonsensical things that you do,

Because you truly were off your jack,

You were the crackhead who was not on crack,

But that is what made you so cool,

Although you behave like a fool,

I’ll remember you;

And this is exactly why,

Although I may fail

I promise to try,

And remember you.