another step to adieu

Changes in domicile primarily entail reestablishing boundaries. The cat, vicious and hostile, will have to be brought into fold. Offerings of fish and love have, so far, received nothing but hisses in return. The dogs - recalcitrant, somewhat bored - must be taught anew who’s Boss. The kitchen needs exploring, familiarising, before it can be - to borrow the tongue of the day - owned. The same with all other hearts of darkness: convenient carpet-corners hiding some evidence of mischief, the underside of beds, the loft.

There is much to be done - always reassuring, this, in the face of sightless, brutal yearning. Giving into leisure now can mean death by remorse. The terrible weight of unacknowledged knowing will kill if not ignored.

Experimenting with the dicey contents of fridge, giving walls fresh coat of yellow, making unnecessary coffee over the latest release in Satire - Fantasy. Otherwise called lifesavers.

unavoidable.

Never rebel (no, please) - but must one not shrink, shrivel when everything is Superliked? Never misanthrope (peripheral babble is almost endearing) - but before bed, must one not ask, Where to now? Bile in mouth not so much because you don't see - but because (to think) I once thought you would. When you're your biggest disappointment, how to get erasure? When you're throwing up chillies and what were cashew nuts (mostly through nose), how to stop from hitting floor? The abiding thought - that seesaw of oneness (your breath smells of mine, I smile) versus that ache in bones, weighing every step down, muttering like a dammed sea of voices, O My People - is only biding time.

Someone's counting down somewhere, but meanwhile?, one could (with groan and creak and lumberjack pant) turn to resurrecting the premature dead and burying, and burying those who just won't. Worth a shot, the gun's gone cold after the world got- Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai? Question is kya rooh pyaasi hi reh jayegi?

O People.

Silence/One Tight Slap?

It's not esprit d'escalier if one chooses to retain the observation slash retort. Not many see this, those who do will never tell. To prevent another (heaven forbid) amity grown habit grown cult.

As for the rest, one wonders. Would it have been worth it, after all, if on some ill-begot morning, one should decide to give up (for a day) the Omerta and  slash (with observation slash retort) offender and put the world in its rightful place, tucked in that exact bend of the right ear-canal where the wax begins to crumble?

What sort of triumph comes of giving up what sets you apart? (that's a single question)

excuse me, i'm in the wrong room.

I sprint through the world blindly with family-shaped stencil in hand.

Cutting out all excesses, misfits, everything. Of course, nothing except grotesque remains.

Can you imagine trying to grate slate?

Back home I squint through my worldly-wise eyeglass.

The kind that magnifies all exceptions, variations, gradients. Of course, I am never content.

Can you imagine what a rose looks like under a microscope?