From dusk to dawn,
I bathed in your silver light.
I knew the day would hurt,
I can’t stand the sun you know,
For I have been through fire, and now even a distant light scars my skin.
But then, there would be this night,
When you’d come and turn every sun burn to a love bite.
I sang, I spoke my heart to you.
I don’t know how much you heard,
you were just this, distant cold moon hung up on the night sky,
Shedding your light on things with and without heartbeats alike.
There comes the dawn again, there comes my wait,
there comes light, melting my iris like burning lava.
I’ve been standing here for too long,
pacing from where you left to where I wait.
Shouldn’t you be here by now?
My skin is burning,
I feel my hope evaporate.
Are you listening?
Why did you break the order,
for by now I was a prisoner of your monotony.
The sun has been up for too long now.
If I could I’d tell you
how I put myself to sleep every night
how I dip my pen in my heart and write poems for you,
I try to lock you in my words and set myself free.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it was never about you…
Maybe I keep revisiting the cell,
Walking in and out,
Mourning the failure of a new love.
And slowly burying back there, little of what I have left of love.
I hate places that reek of humans and their newly defined humanity,
the odour of their words and promises,
abyss of dead dreams piling on one another
and the way emotions, expectations, ooze from their eyes.
The stench of intentions.
When I see a human now,
I just see a vapor of unpleasant smell.
After all I’m still to peel off from my skin
this stink I’ve got from people.
People who flicked my forehead every time I tried to raise it up.
I dig my nails in my skin,
to lift pieces of myself and blow on them to get rid of this odour,
As little droplets of blood trickle down my body.
I lick it, suck it in, off myself.
Why should I loose me, in the battle of my skin and the stench I got from people?
Just when I dropped my cloak
darker than darkness ,
the moon and stars
the night sky.
Dreams of moonlight soaked skin,
Dreams of silver dipped hair,
remain a dream.
“I’ll be one with the night soon.
I’ll just sing,
I’ll sing the night’s tune.”
I was the new moon.
I was the new moon.
At night there is this entire universe of crazy that takes up space within. A universe that breathes secretively within the 3 walls of a cubicle all day, sinking lower and lower in the chair to avoid eye contact with people, occupies the entire night finding solace in silence, power to keep itself alive because only this universe understands that if it sleeps at night, it would be euthanized by the day.
Why does everybody wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night? Why not the other way round? Though I have been practicing it for quite some time now, but it is more of an over duty to be done, abiding by the rules of this earth to wake up every morning, but also abide by what I want which is to still be wide awake even when gong strikes 3. I asked google for a word which means ‘the love for night’, ‘Nyctophilia’ it said. The night, a world where everybody I know is sleeping, how comforting. Only a few, somewhere, on this side of the globe where night has dawned are enjoying the dark, the silence; just like I am. Most part of the night is spent on crazy imaginations, it feels abnormal having all these thoughts without any weed. These thoughts make sleeping difficult, they raise a sense of excitement within. At night there is this entire universe of crazy that takes up space within. A universe that breathes secretively within the 3 walls of a cubicle all day, sinking lower and lower in the chair to avoid eye contact with people, occupies the entire night finding solace in silence, power to keep itself alive because only this universe understands that if it sleeps at night, it would be euthanized by the day. This universe knows, it knows that it needs to expand, grow, inundate the day. Make people realize that it is not made only for the night, not made to hide under the covers of the dark sky. It needs to show it exists, it needs to stand up and step out of the cubicle that can barely contain its magnanimity. Instead of waiting for people to sleep and then rise, it has to rise so that the ones asleep are woken. This universe could be anything, for some the emotions they pour on a white canvas leaving it aurora-tic, for some the numerous combinations of 26 alphabets put together to express what their heart feels, for some the tune they can sing to that makes their soul alive. Everywhere, I see kids in adult bodies hiding their universe within, crushed under the 25 grams weight of the string they wear like an ornament every day. A corporate ID card that has now become the identity of this universe within, worth it? You hold so much, worth so much and all you are identified by is the designation, pay check and the company name you have mortgaged your dreams to. It is still mortgaged and not sold, it will be sold the moment you allow your night to be put to sleep by the day. Turn this upside down, you know your universe deserves the daylight. For so long you have whispered to the night your hidden desires, shown it your inner soul, dare to propose them to the day. Those on the path to drag dreams to reality, rarely fear rejection and failure, they tread the journey no matter how difficult because they know the destinations they have planned for themselves deserve it all. Don’t let the morning sun dawn on you; you from night. Let the dark go, but you be the same. The night has not blessed many with an alternate life, make it your only life.