Secrets are not meant to be spoken out loud. We whisper them to ourselves, in that dreadful conspiratorial tone that reeks of self-sedition. Truth which breaks the constitution of our existence. Dark secrets. Those chapters half written, and given up, because they had too much of truth to stay in that diary of lies that makes up our lives. We keep those pages to ourselves 'cause only a few can even decipher the scraggy scrawny handwriting that came out in a few frenzied moments of furious clairvoyance.
I tried shouting my secrets out to the sky. The world didn't stop to listen. They were half-writing pages on their diaries while my pages, with all their scraggy words, fanned and fluttered in the wind and were shat and spat and scattered across random pavements across the globe. Footprints and dusty shoemarks over yellowed paper and curvy blue letters.
Only the clouds heard me. It rained. The blue letters melted away and trickled down the drains...
give it wind, it will take it the onw who is waiting 4 it.....
ReplyDeletethis is so beautiful!!
ReplyDeleteand the wind never takes things over to right person... they just scatter... someone should actually care to pick up pages from the pavement and read em...
ReplyDeleteand kaatib... thunks...
read them and throw them away..or sticth them into that old half torn book which u bookmark..
ReplyDeleteeven the broken dreams, washed out letters and unheard words have a destination.
ReplyDeletelike the water drops that vanish in the scorching sun, like the bodies that merge in the earth like the sound that loses its intensity...
'something' can't become 'nothing' and I don't think there is a 'nowhere'.
it always won't be pretty but hey, sometimes it's just nice to exist.
Its all a matter of like u said 'clairvoyance'.
wont contest that either... being is the best thing of being... but at some point in time, you would kinda vainly wish the pages were read....
ReplyDelete