Caution : What you could come across in the process.

Insignificant references to my life, an abstract and distracted thought sequel, monotony, inconsistency, vague vague perception, whorish intellectualism, feminist bullshit, armchair activism, causes I try to relate to, sharp sarcasm, even sharper criticism, frivolous details.

Nonetheless Happy Reading.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

The poisoned leaf.

Her poltergeist like spirit wandered the overwhelming skies,surpassing each cloud along the way.
We have visions sometimes: of peace and sanctity,a beautiful world feasting on the scrumptious goodness of the soul.Blessed is the world we live in.Thoughts were too much to take,he hurried back home.The world would spin around some imaginary axis and each life that was counted withdrew a strange sort of significance,
She prodded along the rainy streets,life evaporated in smoke.Her flip flops flicked muddy water on her calves and part of it stained her beige floral skirt.He was away when she left.A ragged rucksack stuffed with her sketchbooks and charcoal pencils.He wasn't there to sneer at her,ask her where she was going again and again until she'd screamed out every swear word she'd ever come across in these twenty four years of her very feminine life.The door would have gone 'bang' and her heart would have beaten twice as hard until she'd have walked long enough for it to regain its normal pace.She liked to walk.Poltergeist like spirit.Extremes of a kind.I'd have the money soon enough to leave his wretched soul to rot in hell she thought.
He sat on his clumsy bed the mess around him revealing itself as the effects of masturbation wore off.Who'd leave that half eaten sandwich lying on the bloody floor that way?hoarse laughter followed by a crude cracking of the finger bones.She'll come back all right,whimpering,rejected,dejected.

The traffic zoomed past her.Ten to two.The rain had stopped,the sun lay a freckled glance over the city.She entered the coffee shop which was flooded with a college litter.She was here to meet Mr A.A for anomaly,A for art,A for anonymous.She scavenged through her ragged bag for a lip gel.Ah vanity he would have said scrutinizing the details and contents of the poor gel.
Wild was the wind when they were girls,when something like a best friend existed and they kept roaming the streets and walking in and out of shops.The wind felt moist and heavy with reality now.
Mr A was late today.She glanced at the comical clockwork hung at the side counter.Bright yellow diseased with pink polka dots.Hideousness isn't dead she mumbled to herself neither is outrageousness...a familiar voice.Colour can never be hated neither can its drastic variations.Mr A clean and polished as always.Neat.
'I warned you of the beast, look like a bloody mess.Utterly dreadful.'
'He seems like oyster sauce way past its expiry date,a fungal froth crowding the mouth of the bottle.'
'Oh does he now?'...'so what's new?'
'I need fucking money,'she grumbled.
Let me see what you've got there.
Just then a family of four walked into the coffee shop.The little boy caught her attention,sevenish she guessed.He wore a bright yellow and red chequered shirt,miserable sea green shorts that held on to his vulnerable little frame with the help of an obnoxiously large brown belt.He walked each step with tremendous caution very sure about the fact that his movements were being monitored by the people surrounding him.He stood three feet tall and resembled a frail knitting needle.He carried the weight of a disastrous combination of happiness and awkwardness on his tiny little shoulders.The larger picture remained unknown.Someone should have told him...she thought...
'Remind you of someone?' Mr A unapologetically intruded her thoughts.
As a kid you know I'd make lists..He bore a laughable nostalgic gleam in his eyes.
You mean in addition to your hit lists? she grumbled and took another sip of her coffee.
He didn't seem to hear her.
the list:
1.People eating alone at restaurants.
2.Undersized kids reading oversized books
3.People who actually didn't give a fuck about the the true sense of it.
6.The gawky awkward bunch of them.
'We are talking money A.Shut the fuck up'
'Your stupid.Your pricey little qualifications didn't get you no money.Then you come to me after being cooked up with the cunt in your suffocating little condo rotting away each miserable day of your fucking life.'
He was sweating now.She could feel the heat of the spoken words.It stayed like a cloud for the rest of the conversation............
to be contd////