Obsession

my hook sways; slow like death
searching for a prey constantly
you land on it and latch on firmly
oh.. why did you end up being my prey

the prey doesn't know it's caught
but for the hook it's all it has
whole of it's being consumed by
torturous thoughts of its prey

the prey still swims free
unaware that the hook shudders;
twist and turn I may
letting go, moving on is the hardest

my hook lives only here
the farthest deepest trench
that i'm fated to call the mind
so far from the reality it shall never see

in that reality our worlds collide
when you are you and I am me
but those moments are so far and few
they fade so quickly as dusk to night

a different world comes to light
i know it to be unreal; imaginary but
there we've lived a thousand lives
light years removed from what is true

as reality recedes, then comes the hook
impaling the prey in its metal claws
the agony and anguish are not for the prey
but for the mind that possesses the hook

Are you for real?

People from your past never grow old do they? They are stuck in the same place you last saw them.

The problem is, they continue to live and grow in your mind. You imagine them living and behaving as you wish. They take on an entirely believable life in your mind that when you actually meet them later in life, it comes as a shock to you that they're a whole another person!

But does that revelation stop you from continuing to imagining them? No!
You carry on happily, coming up with little dialogues and run-ins and intimacies that make you so happy inside.
Sometimes though the imagination isn't enough. You begin to crave that person living in your imagination to come and make it all real. Oh you still don't want the real person to be there - no no no. It's your imaginary real person for whom you yearn!

It's at times like these, I wonder what if we had a method of communicating these expectations? Maybe that real person has moved on so far ahead that they can't reconcile themselves to the version you imagined. But what if there's someone else out there that matches the imaginary friend you look for?

Then you meet in real life and make a new friend!

The only problem I see here is that your imagination is probably pretty private and there's no way that you can make it public! Anonymous sharing may help but world being as is now, you'll probably just attract creeps. Without resorting to anonymity, the minute you talk about the imaginary version your people know whom you're talking about and judge you. Worse: that person from your past comes to know that they still live in your imagination but in such an avatar. And worst of all the people in your current life come to know that you are weirder than they thought and may not entirely be happy about your private imaginative life!

What's the point of this rant then, you ask? Sometimes wild thoughts refuse to stay cozily inside the mind vault and insist on being laid out in words.

தூக்கம் ?

(Product of a sleepless night)

நித்திரை தேடி நித்தமும் அலைய
அந்தியின் மடியில் கண்களும் சரிய
குறும்பு நெஞ்சம் குழப்பி தாக்க
தடுமாறும் எண்ணம் தட்டி எழுப்ப
குமுறும் ஆசைகள் கூச்சல் போட
பதைக்கும் மனம் பனிக்கால இரவில்
நித்திரை தேடி நித்தமும் அலைய

Yearning

It comes at you suddenly. A bolt of lightning out of the blue that shatters your foundation. A hook that flies out of the pages of your memory - pierces your thoughts so deeply that you are frozen by the pain of it. These hooks are hanging always just outside your consciousness, like a curtain of snakes floating and drifting.
A song, a photo, a picture, a name, an utterance, an action, a gesture, a new smile that reminds you of an old - one of these will call a snake to life. You'd feel its fang sinking into your mind.
Immediately, a tornado of yearning engulfs you. Completely. A yearning for something that is a nanometer out of your reach. A yearning so powerful that you're left gasping for life.
That yearning is for the most bittersweet of them all....'what might have been'. For that friend lost in time. For that love that slipped away. For that question never asked. For that answer never given. For that voice never raised. For that pain never soothed...
This yearning shall twist you, toss you and turn you. But it won't take you unless you ask it to. It shall be a brief storm that shall pass. Enjoy the torment while it lasts but ground  yourself firmly when it ends.
This yearning proves that you've lived. It keeps you awake. It keeps you alive.

The Voices

A thousand little voices screeching in my head

Jostling with each other to be the first heard

Angry and happy, sweet and snapping

Melodious screams, all overlapping

The stronger ones come to the fore

And claim my tongue, as their own

Oh you think I put them there?

These little voices that trill and tear?

Believe me, it be true, I can only watch

Helpless, they come out as I talk

Sometimes I don't want one but the other

Alas, the ones I need somehow disappear

What choice have I then but to succumb

Yet wish upon wish were I dumb

'Cause even when I hear them uttered

All I want is keep them shuttered.

A walk through yesterdays

They were swirling around her, blinding her. Memories built over the passage of years, shadows of days past. Torturing her, delighting her, paining her. She feels the familiar yearning - for the things that have flitted past, things that were never tangible, things that were never discerned when present but missed sorely once gone.

She walks slowly, unsteadily, makes baby steps. Faint shapes take life around her. The tree under which coffees were shared and drunk, the stairs echoing with the youthful laughter, every shape tugs at the heartstrings, every object makes the mind travel to the past with a speed unimaginable. Past - it was a time for the young. A time of joy hitherto unknown. A time of incredible power, a time of independence, a time when they thought they could change the world. A time when tender hearts were carelessly and cruelly treated.

And then comes the anger. At the unrelenting time. At the helplessness. The agony of change takes over. She feels like the dog straining against the leash. The leash of reality. But the leash holds on. And brings her back slowly. The swirling mist settles about. Now she sees the path ahead. She turns back to see that the memories have subsided - from huge misty monsters they have become bittersweet elvish creatures.

Tiny hands grab hold of hers and lead her forward. And she walks the uncertain path, where more memories await to be made.