Tuesday, December 29, 2009

when dreams are strange but unforgettable

she was explaining to him how he just needed to listen to her. everything would be alright.

her clitoris took the shape of a perfectly smooth, glittering emerald. i don't know how, that's just how things were back then. the emerald was the center of an otherwise gold and pearl necklace and he watched in silence as she played with the green stone.

she was riding a horse, then. she was lady godiva. but there was no audience this time. just the difficult terrain of a tropical mountainforest. the horse guided itself and she was usually busy playing with her hair. they were trudging along a mountain, steep to the side and brown and green in color. that is when she came upon him. the horse paused, as did the hair-playing and she stared at his scruffy self. he was a dead pirate, but he was also hiding, and he told her how gorgeous she was. when she didn't understand, he showed her. lay her down on the grass near the eagle's nest and entered her. he covered her whole body with her golden hair, so she didn't show shame if she felt it. she kept playing with her hair and looking at him quizzically as he fulfilled his physical needs. quietly. he apologized with almost every thrust, telling her how he needed it to regain his strength and that he hoped she'd understand.

the eagle's nest was empty and the horse almost fell off the cliff.
the end.

Saturday, December 26, 2009


i have a song waiting for you till you make me feel that way.

Friday, December 25, 2009

da dadadadada

*click click* delete. *type type type* backspace, delete. *tap. taptaptaptap. tap* delete.

i am alone on this Christmas. alone with a cup of hot liquid and my thoughts. everyone else is out and about, watching other people act in loud voices and dance to remixed music.
it has been an unpleasant and uneventful year, with too many stories that make me think i'm living a tilted existence.

this song makes me want a lover with a smooth back.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

sweeping insensitivity

they're totally fucking.
but who cares? i don't. i don't care that you don't think i'm all that anymore. i don't care that she's so much prettier than i am. i don't care that i don't care, you hear?
my friend made me listen to this song once, on repeat, and i couldn't sleep all night. but it wasn't my house so i didn't dare shut it off.
you once told me, something about yourself. i loved it. you were so plain and simple, and i was in control. now you've gone and grown up, and i was already grown, so i was left to wilt and wither. i hope you're happy with what you've done, i hope you're able to live with yourself after what you put me through. i wish you happiness, i wish you ill, i wish and i wish and i wish. i wish i had never met you, i wish i had been smart, i wish i could see right through you, i wish i could punch your brains out.

i'll have you know one thing- no one messes with me, and gets away with it. no one.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows.

Friday, December 18, 2009

the winter of my discontent

She stared with her bony neck out the window at the snow falling like rain. In thick, separate drops. She wanted it to be covered, all of it, everything, so no one could see what she had done, even she would forget. The winter wonderland would cover all their mistakes, and spring would bring a different ending to an old story, a new stirring in the bellies of discontent lovers. The piano would take over the as the instrument of choice, leaving the once-glorified guitar to gently weep. She watches as the wind takes absolutely no direction at all. 'Then why should I trust nature?' Wishing on stray stars and dandelions and believing, believing, believing, that's all she did. It was all optimism, and little else. Time was running. Her fingernails clawed her face so she could direct pain elsewhere. The angel inside her was begging to come out.

11:11pm, I wished for everything to be ok. Is it, then?

Monday, December 14, 2009

for hub III/ digging

guess what I found?
our very first conversation. on paper. from four years ago.
I believe we were sitting way in the back of a too-small classroom. according to the paper, we talked about salinger, poe, wilde, beckett, stoppard and rimbaud. oh, and I beat you at tic tac toe.

home is-

-where i get to be in pjs for as long as 4 days without a care in the world.
-why i don't have to answer my cell phone/tend to my laptop, because i have the best excuse in the world.
-the smell of parathas and achaar and lots of gosht. and the opening and closing of dhakanns because i just refilled canisters with kachi daals.
-watching winter change from solid to liquid to fog and back again.
-where my health food cravings are fulfilled.
-where i actually don't have any friends.
-the number of times mother will talk about a single thing in the span of 24 hours- 72.
-where i am spoiled and then brought back down to Earth in a single minute.
-about who gets to claim the comfy leather sofa complete with cushions and blankets that is in perfect view of the television.
-about television and lots of it. (i'm addicted to Law and Order).
-trying to fix bent relationships with family our age through lots of drinking and gallivanting.
-wanting to exercise but failing miserably cuz dinner's in 3 hours and i need to pre-game for chappli kababs.
-where my fear of basements began and still prevails.
-hanging out with the only sibling till he kicks me out of his room. then writing things on his door.
-the cheesiness that is nova radio.
-where my clementines are already peeled for me.

home is where the heart belongs, even if it doesn't want to.

Saturday, December 12, 2009


you know what, I'm just going to quit. I'm typing like I'm mad at my laptop, but I'm not, really. I'm going to quit because if there's anything I hate, it's dealing with an old problem that wasn't even mine to begin with.
fix things, and then talk to me.
and I know you're not talking because you don't know how to fix.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

for hub II/ yellowcake

I had a dream that I hung myself, like Bonnie in The Virgin Suicides. I have the shoes she was wearing, you know...the exact same ones. It was all obviously very strange. I also had dreams about cars with names of people I know as their number plates. That sentence didn't make sense, but nothing does nowadays. The migraines won't stop, and the guilt pangs won't stop. I blame it on pms most of the time, and it usually works because no one really gives a rat's ass. I remember why I couldn't swallow the pill. The water was too cold. I used that as an excuse, can you believe it? The water was too cold. How silly. If I had taken it, we'd all be better by now.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009


'Look at this stuff,
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you say my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you say I'm the girl,
The girl who has...everything?'