The Silence of My Voice

Hello. It's Day One. So this year I've decided to talk to people I know who've influenced my life, or the changes in them and take something from them to write about. It could be something I share with them, or something that has affected them or impelled them to undergo a reform. I start this one with Vami, for whom looking within has begun to mean a lot more. In a city where everyone pencils in their day around local train timings, everyone is living in a playlist they created for themselves. Only, most of us forgot to uncheck the repeat button. We wake up everyday, with either alacrity or bitterness, and rerun through the loop. We, though, don't wake up to ourselves.  Struggles come in a lot of different forms for everybody. And this is something that keeps most of us up in the middle of the night. Work, money, love, drugs - name it. And there are some of us attempting to run away from ourselves to avert any confabulation about the same. But I figure abscondi...

The cigarettes let out a bulky quilt against the air that inflated his chest, and he dextrously created stories between them, as he slapped the air for a ghost-less vision. And each time he sauntered through the heavy walnut opening, his past seemed to catch up with its bells high on. The stink of rye, and the stains of scotch. The burn of Cuban spices with the heaviness of the citrus cleanser. The pale, alabaster skin of her derrière, and the impulsive flare of his parchment. The moss of the lamps reminded him of the unripeness of the bedroom doors he squirrelled behind, each night, when the clock struck ten, and his old man in turn struck any visible hide he could find on her body. He'd kill her and bring her back from the white light, time and again. Time and again, he'd push her, praise her, need her. He'd destruct her piece by piece, and make her whole again, until both were gasping for breaths. He'd seen the old man's welts across her back, his...

The goosebumps on his nape had signalled me that he was familiar of my ubiquity in there. I'd witnessed him residing under the same lamp, on the same bulbous and stout pieced wood for years. He had yet another Dan Brown in his hands; his beguiling fingers flirting with the pages still sent spasms through me. It pushed me back to the time when I disintegrated, every vein holding my being liquefying into his. I reeked more of him than me; he reeked more of me than himself.  Trickle by trace, my incandescent breaths over his dank torso, obfuscating my beginning and his end into one. His hands ducking at every curve I curve through, turning me into a corpse of molten flambeau. Never a time when we settled for the two of us being the two. Letting countless mistakes happen, fingers exploring out the closeness of the two being one. Fiery water, boiling ice, spending all of ourselves onto one another. He eyes that pretty across the table. Digging back in his book, resorting to the ...

Twelve flavours Twelve lovers Twelve dates Twelve places  Twelve kisses Twelve beds Twelve breakfasts Twelve flowers Twelve coffees Twelve teas Twelve omelettes Twelve sunny side ups Twelve walks Twelve restaurants Twelve pasts Twelve presents Twelve futures Twelve projects Twelve jobs Twelve cities Twelve foods Twelve eyes Twelve voices Twelve poems Twelve stories Twelve songs Twelve genres Twelve exes Twelve, more to come Twelve t-shirts Twelve shirts Twelve sweaters Twelve bras Twelve blankets Twelve days Twelve nights Twelve weeks Twelve months The past year And the next to come. Therapy. Happier this time,  Ak.

The hard muscled shoulders were broad in keeping with his height, but it was more the overall virility of the man was so disturbing. And attractive. And definitely scary.  She tried to concentrate, she really did, but she was acutely aware of a hard male thigh against hers, the 5 o'clock stubble on his chin, which accentuated his brand of aggressive masculinity tenfold, and, not least, the bigness of him.  And she was startled back to reality as the conductor shouted out the next stop. Luck, it seemed, had never befriended her. *** It wasn't love that brought his entire brood rushing to his bedside. When his estranged wife, three sons - two legitimate, one bastard - and, yes, even his former daughter-in-law dropped everything at his beck and call, it was not out of devotion but rather sheer disbelief that the man who had launched a financial empire and sculpted their own lives might turn out to be a mere mortal like the rest of them. Time, was no more a friend of his....

How different were the two? Like the darkness of a liquor chocolate, Against the dewy cinnamon bagels? Or the roaring of the sea, Against the hidden hushes of an avalanche, How different were their voices? Like the inconsistency of your consistent black coffee, Against the bitter carnality of that cabernet? Or, the squelchy parcel from the rains, Against the velvety pats of snow against your face? How different were their eyes when they looked at you? Like the ones which gleam simply in desire, Against the one screaming out to you in need? Or the way a child clings to his toy, Against a weeping bride holding onto her father's shoulders? How different were their hands? Like the robust hand from the heist of a ravenous man, Against the hands that devour you under the sheets? Or the ones whose touch make you whinge, Against the ones which make you close your eyes in conviction? How different were their seasons? Like the sun's fervour fluxing your cream...

What is really to be free? To be boundless? To fly away, Like Harry on Firebolt, With the free air,  And endless sun, With the inexpensive walks, And the solitude, With chanced meetings,  And forgotten memories, What is it that you give away from yourself, To be free? The hidden, uncaged remains, Of your soul? What is that place in your heart you have, That nobody else does? Everyone always find an excuse, To excuse their life somehow,  Behold, Don't let slip pass that second, When it'll be all you need, To squander your remaining life, The dissipation of selves, Sometimes is all required, To be free. There's a lot of collateral damage your freedom costs. Caged, Ak.