Bullet Holes

"Why do you have the scar on your chest?"

'It's a long story'

"Well, I have time."

I have not been to a war, neither is my story about getting shot accidentally.
What i CAN tell you is that i listen to a lot of songs and i was listening to Lesley Gore. Look, its a simple and straightforward story, its about bubblewrap.

I heard it on the radio that bubblewrap is no more. The organization shut down. Made me think of when camera reels stopped. I knew, felt, thought that I would always have camera reels for my camera. But that gadget was dead after my stack ran out. The stack that i got in bulk to make my memory capturing gadget never run out. Run out of shutting its eyes and keeping those perfect moments for the dark room.

The dark room died. It became a dim lit room where we would have drinks and conversation. The conversations got over and we thought we were keeping in touch, but in reality we were just 1010101010101ing on each other.

Old habits do not die. Its true. They are always there somewhere, in some form or the other.

Its not my story of technology taking over, my apologies.

I was just unhappy about bubblewrap. The bubblewrap was protection for everything. It saved everything from breaking, provided comfort. Its like your mother tucking you in your bed even when you know that some nights are darker than others. Its your friend hugging you when you know you're wrong and truth is beyond apologies.

I ordered a pack of expensive cigarettes which are down to earth. Irony was not the point. I had had too much from the bottle and ADs on the internet turned me. Everyone can be blamed now. You can never be wrong. You always have a shoulder and your gun is somehow never the point. How can someone even try to begin and forgive own self?

Well the package arrived and to tell you the truth, it took me a while to pay. I was not in my senses. The bottle was hit hard and everything was a space Odyssey. Stumbling, I sat down and stared at the package for a long time. In normal circumstances, it would be ripped apart with excitement of whats inside. what was the point anymore?

There was.

It was bubble wrapped. I opened the pack of the expensive no toxins no carbs no emotional bullshit no crappy feely still cancerous for you pack of cigarettes and lit one. I lay on my back thinking about the dark room, and  about the photographs hanging and drying like clothes you washed. You expected that you soft hands will never let the color run, never let the white fade, never turn the black to grey. Something did happen. You did everything right. Nothing went wrong, except that it became better, brighter, glaring like the sun, like you have never seen before. And it all happened after the camera roll died. After the reel was over. After everything went daft punk.

I woke up smiling with acceptance only to realize that the expensive cigarette was over, between my fingers was the end and resting on my chest was a sizzling orange glow.

Left a mark.

Not everything that comes in bubblewrap is protected. Not every scar is a bullet hole.




"This was shit! You just wasted my time!"





'well...'




I got up and lit the expensive no toxins no carbs no emotional bullshit no crappy feely still cancerous for you cigarette. One for each of us. We sat smiling as the words disappeared while we popped the bubbles in the wrap.

Optimal Emotions

o shit! the summer's going away
I know it i know it
The wind's told me that
The rains are on their way
These were the thoughts in September
now...
o shit! the rains are pulling away
I look at it look at it
The clouds
they're going back home
far far away
I'm filled with optimal emotions
just enough to feel good,
just enough to feel bad
i had loved the time spent in summers
feverish winds and the tree shades
Eating walnuts and cold mead
The rains were too good to forget
looking out the window
sitting on my bed
I had loved the way it had turned green
A little girl turned drama queen
But now has come another day
the fog puts the blinds
and the weather turns grey
The ground will turn so cold again
shivers down your spine every time
memories and moments you spent this year
Friends and fortunes you made and lost this year,
a cup of coffee and an old magazine
a little wood and some fire
and some movies you had never seen
till the time your heart is heavy again
it'll be time you'll be saying
o shit! the winters are going away
This had been juuust fine....
just enough to feel good,
just enough to feel bad.

News

Oh the horns and the bugles and the loud noises i read everyday to make me see that the world is in the hands of no one and no one seems to be doing anything about it so that we can sleep and wake up to a morning not so full of grief and shadows of those who look so happy in obituaries of the living dreams of someone who had dreamed it before you or who else could it be that know the truth of reality. Flightless birds will never exist in the world where the air is so blurred.

Winter Blues

Me and my empty side of the pillow

you and the winter blues

Fireflies are hiding now and

mornings are foggy and the dew

on the leaves, and my empty side

of the pillow.

If I could make the hues of the evening

as I desire

and the empty chair in front of me

makes me want to get a little more

higher.

Then I give you a call at night

to let you know how i feel,

then I take a walk outside to realize

what I miss.

There's something about you

I cant explain, I talk about you

but its not the same.

And when the night turns dark

I have no fear,

but of the empty side of the bed.

The death of Summers and the sunset hues

You, and the winter blues.

The Labyrinth

In a busy marketplace with a hundred gullies leading to more brightly lit branches of this never ending world of fruits, vegetables, fake watches, aquariums full of neon, and the peddlers. Everyone spoke a different language and they looked at everyone as they passed by their shops, right in the eye. I tried to imagine this place empty, but i just couldn't.

A kid wanders off a feet from his parent, and grabs an unknown person's hand and walks away looking at the colors of the market in awe. The crowd pours in swallowing a story right in front of me. I did try and look for the kid, but soon I realized, the more I try to find here, the more I get entangled in this eerie bright paradise of the cold people who stare into your eyes and read you minds.

My mind is calm now, i focus on the job in hand, 'GET OUT OF HERE' and walk opposite to the direction I was facing. I tried to recognize faces among those ever staring eyes and the fixed smiles. And as soon as their glance shifts, they exchange a few words in their secret language and go back to luring customers. I know there are stairs which will lead me to the road that goes home.

The only familiar place here was the place in the market with a circular garden. And I have already been here thrice. The kid walks by, happy and enjoying the blue cotton candy. "Stop!" I say, and get pushed away, He says "I am the father", and the child shrieks away. I stand there looking at the ground, ignoring the stares by the mob. I was only trying to help.

Soon it rained, and the gullies were empty, the shops had people lined up like products in an assembly line, no one had a face. and I found a big path connecting all the paths . I followed it and it got me home. Some days I still walk by the market to see a few of them looking at me. But I dare not enter, and never mind what happened to the story of the Lost kid and a stranger.

Golden

The flight of the yellow butterflies towards the sun

Will leave a trail of ash in the sky, and warn those who dare

and look into the eyes of the star, and stare away.

The race for the start has begun,

The flight of the yellow butterflies towards the sun.

In The Dream

I open my eyes

and see the beast beside of me

and I try to go back

but my shadow just wont

stop following me.

I close my eyes

and go back to restless sleep

and I dream of a good night

when I wake up with a smile

and not remember about it a bit.

I open my eyes

and claw the wind with my nails

I see the angels smile,

smiling at my restless flight

and I change with the seasons

and the sun is shining bright.

I close my eyes

wondering if this is real

what if I'm in my dream

And if I pinch myself

would I wake up to a shining moonlight

or demons shivering at the thoughts

of my rage.

I wonder

Which way is home,

sometimes.

I look into your eyes

and lie,

some days.

And some days,

I close my eyes

trying to win

against a restless night

full of restless dreams

trying to ignore my shadow.