same new drug

ive been feeding on darkroom images of
the sin i sought,
modest lust and thought.
my eyes memorising a neon-glow jawline,
collar bone and
there are hollows and ridges i climb up and into
in my sleep,no more
than grains of spacebound tears

music scattered around by those eyes
and gaping nostrils
like the forest breeze in spring,
wild yet soft and the tint.
theres always the tint.

but beyond the grainy hue,
a tide of burning red and the witching
hour gives me
more than thirst or thought.


-----------------
this aint nothing, ho. and ok yes i posted, go me. even though more than half of teh people i tagged in my lastpost havnt done their tag. sheh shoot me someone.

and bytheway, this:


is me and the new oink. ive had enough of virtual pigs, now this is the real shit :D

i cant logonto orkut somehow. damn. so i will do this.

a tag i stole off panu's blog, promised to myself that i'd do it and for the umpteenth time i felt my promise to myself turn into a burden like no other.ok lets chuckit and begin.

all the lifesoandsoyearsagobusiness is approximate, and may stretch 2 to 3 years beforeorafter the specified time.

Life Ten Years Ago : was in the same city when it had a muchmore pleasing[to me] name, and revolved round geekiness, dancing, nicking bensiapencils only to return them unsuspectingly,more dancing, losing milkteeth and getting pictures of gapfulsmiles taken, Miss Anna in school, embarrassing singing exams, leading my group in some reading competition, and winning.

I and some of my schoolfriends used to make transactions in paper, of paper. writing pads, if you were curious. i coaxed shweta to get me writing pads in return of my services (which would consist mainly of me carrying her lunchbox around or suchlike) and rubberbands.or maybe i demanded rubberbands myself, i dont remember, but im sure those were involved. i was always a weird kid, only more of a nuisance at that when younger.

Life Five Years Ago: was in siliguri, was my 5th school and was fun.i had to play house with neighbourkids, with one of the youngest of them forever pretending to go around with daaru ka botal. i think it amused me, and i was always made Dr.Sonia , and could have my favourite thermocol phone all to myself, so i didnt complain all that much.
okno who am i kidding? i HATED that shit.
fell in love with chinkys, mountains and waiwai. dancing continued, singing was discovered as something i can get away with without being egged, and toward the end of that period, i think, i got my first guitar and made my first song. :D

oh also, i still had straight silky shiny dark hair .which would be cut short at regular intervals and whatever of it remains, has changed beyond recognition now. :\

Life Tomorrow:

life will be a fucking boon(or not) if it continues with its existence after we get the finalexamresults which are gonna be out in a few hours. so life tommorow, depends heavily on the results.shitshit.

Five Locations I would like to Run Away To:

i would say ANYWHERE ASLONG AS I AM TO RUNFUCKINGAWAY.
butstill.lesse.
1) random Mediterranean island.
2) Goa.
3) norway/finland. or both.
4) kashmir.
5) to a parallel universe,ruled by porcupines and lizards; or just to the JU premises for it felt good.

Five Bad Habits I Have:

swell question.i could go on till blogger disowns me for over usage.just five erm.
1) i cannot behave.the way a normal human being is expected to behave in a society.a family. a group or anything.but again, once you know me, you wouldnt even EXPECT normalcy, so thassok. but it gets on everybody's nerves in all the wrong ways.
2) i procrastinate.
3) overtly blunt, outspoken, and hence taken as rude.
4) i cannot be organised in anything-thoughts, actions, dreams, nothing. im messy, to put it subtly.and clumsy.you wouldnt want me to even begin on that.
5) i'm a little too absent minded for my own good, and careless in every possible way.
(there is another, prime disgusting habit o'mine, i wont tell you about *winks at LD*)

as plainly as i can put it, im not someone likely to be nominated for Miss Congeniality even after 8949892 years of training/grooming.

Five Things I Will Never Wear:

1) anything flashypink. or babypink. or sparkly gitterypink. oh just pink mahn.
2) a navel ring.
3) highheels or tie up sandals.or whatever you call em.
4) pointy brassieres.
5) your *points at you*
yes your knickers.
(and yes i would've heard your hugesighofrelief even if i were in italy or something, LD. but i never said i dont plan to steal em anymore.)

Five Biggest Joys at This Moment :
i just convinced mom to not wear this horribly dull sari to school (we're going to get the report card tralalalala)
heard that IM (my garrulousandoverenthusiastic classteacher) wont be around in school today, so we'll have to collect the report card from the librarian *chakki dance* (dont get ideas)
cant think of anything else. buy me a joy someone, ill pass you a smile.

Something to Achieve By Next Year:
getting decently good with the guitar, and get through ISC without another fitofpukeyness during a board exam. and feel peaceful about decisions i take, if i manage to take any, thatis. AND, if im lucky, getthefuckoutofthishouse.

Something that Impacted Me Last Year:
g.something of a loss. in a good way.
blogsphere. poetry.
art.music.
and mostly, meeting people like Shay, D, Say,Rawry,LD and certain others, all thanks to www. :P
and newprinci, in all the worst ways possible. like getting murderous ideas about murdering her into my head, for one. not healthy for a littilgirlhead.

What I Will Miss About 2007 :

whatever little remained of my wit and sense of humour, which, but now, have killed themselves having spent most of the end of that year wallowing in self pity.RIP.

Five Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

would include learning to play certain musicalinstruments aleast decently, and having eaten enough phuchkas to carry its taste over to the afterlife i dont believe in anyway. cant think of much else now.

and since i wasnt tagged by anyone, i aint supposed to really inflict this ..er.. tagbusiness on anyone else, but i still will, evil that i am.

so here i tag shruti, sayan, and LD,JD and keeper of stars [arunima], the only ones who might bother.

open

I tried saltwater rinsing, but your scent still
rims my nostrils like
the ghost of moments too blue to be
winnowed out of my being,
the sweet of your fanciful presence too
deep to be counteracted.
Caught a cold trying to nurse scraps of my sanity
zapping it altogether in the process.
Tried scraping impossibilities off my hopeful dreams
and like my fervent childhood attempts to scour
the big black birthmark from my right leg,
it left me exhausted and heavy
with a sense of defeat
and dull, damp lines
mocking poetry.

This disease gives me a reason to
press against itself, something to push for
And by this fall i will have forgotten how
your words spelt spring,
my fingers will be conditioned to reach for
backspace in case i still type your name
right in the dark.

...And when i have won my soul back from
your chance captivity
in a gamble with fate, i'll throw it at the whore's feet
the better to track it's impending treads; for
the exactness of instinct alone
triggers poisonguilt.




-------
a) i hate the word sweeetness
b) i need to stop sucking so bad
c) this is a lie.

understand.

who needs care ?
we have mannequins and superglue
and warped mirrors as an escape.
when there's foggy streets to dream up and dreams
that don't ever complain

of being confined to unavowed nooks of the attic ,
why pack the mind up in
heartshaped tinfoil?

ill sit through the show, laud your melodies
genuine.
never cut up
nor speak of the drought forming in my throat, ignore your
unwitting words
supply imaginary heartaches,
doves, balloons.
jazz up early summer afternoons
in case the sun hasn't grown bright enough

for your eyes, skin

and smile.

but don't speak to me
of love
before i've learnt to weep like a woman
in my sleep.

the sunny tint of superhero dreams is always
washed over with blue paint ,
but never in time,
never in the right manner.

our heads (too blocked yet noses always round
enough for the holes we punch through the surface of another's
histories, records, prescriptions) take comfort in the animated
exhaustion of vapid love until
we learn to stop seeking
peace in the marbles we trade
our innocence for.