There was a large clutter on his office desk. Apart from the necessaries, that is the phone and the computer screen, there were two sets of speakers, an old dysfunctional phone, a blank CD, a pack of cream rolls, his old MP3 player, three half filled diaries and a soft drink bottle. And right at the back were two small pictures of his favourite singer.
The air conditioner buzzed a few feet behind him. The sound of keyboards from the other end of the room went endlessly on. The three light bulbs reflected in the large mirror behind his computer screen. And in the same mirror, he could see the grey of the evening slowly give in to the dark of
The room was brightly lit, perhaps a bit too brightly. In the tube-light they could see each others faces clearly. They could see the patterns of the varnish on the table they sat across. Each of them could see what the other was thinking about. They could feel it.
They did not speak. There was silence. But silence is never absolute. Sounds never leave. They may disappear from outside, but they always stay within us. Silence is never absolute. They could hear the clock ticking on the wall. They could hear the air-conditioners constant buzz. They could hear each others breath.
Not a word was spoken. He wore a bright red shi
I stand. Look. The sun sets. High-rise. Thin air. Cold. The sun sets. Weird. A weird feeling. Never felt before. I look around. No one. Me. Alone. Smoke. Need a smoke. Shirt pocket. No. Trousers. One. Later. Now. No. Later. When? Now. Light. Inhale. Keep. Exhale. Calm.
Look again. The sun. Almost gone. Large orange semicircle. Going. Going. Going. Going. Going. Going. Going. Going. … gone. The sun. Gone. Zero. Dark. White smoke. Sweat. Cold sweat. All around. Wipe. No sweat. Dark. No sun. Sweat and white smoke. Hold breath. Walk. Walk to the edge. Look down. Steep. Vomit. More vomit. Shirt wet. Shoes wet. More vomit. Headache. Breathless. Mo
half my face,
buried in my chest,
a rust around my eye.
a flower carved in my arm,
my blood paints it blue.
a smile,
an attempt atleast,
to say,
i breathe too....
carving shapes in her heart
of wood,
she cried
dreaming the one selfish dream
herself,
she cried
caressing the grey sands
illusional,
she cried
crushing away the ashes
of burnt paper,
she cried
tasting in her mouth
the bitter taste,
she cried
lifting the fallen leaf
eaten,
she cried
she cried
she cried,
she died....
a feather rests on the glass
momentarily just
she looks
wetted by the water
a bit weary
she looks
a crack on the glass
slowly, the water trickling in
she looks
touching her toes gradually
then rising
she looks....
Current Residence: Bombay Favourite genre of music: rock - all types Favourite photographer: me :) Favourite style of art: macro Operating System: XP MP3 player of choice: none Shell of choice: none Wallpaper of choice: none Skin of choice: none Favourite cartoon character: dexter Personal Quote: make a man wear a mask and he'll show you his real face
Favourite Visual Artist
dali
Favourite Movies
singin' in the rain
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
elvis presley
Favourite Writers
anton chekhov
Favourite Games
none
Favourite Gaming Platform
not gamer enough
Tools of the Trade
keyboard for typing poetry and stories, camera for photography
ONCE YOU'VE BEEN HIT , YOU HAVE TO HIT
15 OTHER PEOPLE. IF YOU GET THIS BACK
IT MEANS YOUR VERY PRETTY , SO START
SENDIN. IF YOU BREAK THIS CHAIN YOU WILL
BE CURSED WITH UGLINESS * DONT MESS UP !!