[Note:- This one is, obviously, inspired by Pink Floyd's legendary song. I was sitting in the balcony of Grafton Oaks, watching the sun go down, sipping from my mug and reading Jack Keruac's classic On the Roads, pondering over my muse, when this came to me. I was not too sure about it, but I felt the thought could be worth something. Anyway, this one is for S.A., whose many idiosyncrasies have so enamored me, and whose words, the rare few that were sent my way, inspired more poesy in me than most things I have encountered in my life. Here's to you, S****! ]
Prologue: "You know how I said I never cry? Well, this was the last straw."
Hey You!
Out there in your home
Sitting lonely
Humming songs
Do you remember me?
Hey You!
Walking by the street
Where we had to meet
Do you ever miss me?
Hey You!
Do you happen to think of old times?
Would you care?
I am leaving home…
Prologue: "You know how I said I never cry? Well, this was the last straw."
Hey You!
Out there in your home
Sitting lonely
Humming songs
Do you remember me?
Hey You!
Walking by the street
Where we had to meet
Do you ever miss me?
Hey You!
Do you happen to think of old times?
Would you care?
I am leaving home…
3 comments:
Quite fluent actually - and I could relate to it.
Having said that, I am done with wonderment and yearnings and feeling hazy at home-leaving.
I feel I am hardening, if I have not hadenED already, beyond redemption.
I can feel that. In fact, I have been getting that feeling for quite some time now. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to come across as judgmental or anything. But I did get the feeling that you were reaching a point of saturation, so to speak. For me, it has happened with alcohol- drinking is no longer a sought after pass-time, as a blog once proclaimed! Once was, when the alcohol induced haze would make me drift through time and space, and I would feel psychedelic wonders of a magnificent kind. Now, the drinks only leave a bitter aftertaste in the mouth, and the only wonder that comes out of an evening is a bad hang-over and sore stomach. I fear the Monk has abandoned me, for good. But, somehow, I have still managed to resist such saturation in terms of emotions and poesy. I can still feel... one of the few things I have left, to be honest. And what alcohol does not do for me anymore, I seek to replace with human feelings and emotions, and poetry- an escape from the drudgery of existence, a chance at an alternative reality of sorts. I fear, if I lose that, I will lose my only ecstasy, my only remaining intoxicant. I cannot leave in world devoid of wonderment. I have only ever had so many.
Hmmm. So despite my studied understatement, I couldn't help convey symptoms of saturation, eh? :D I guess it shows everything about me but also that you know me quite well.
I still feel things just as sincerely as I used to before, but there is a sense of deja vu about most of them. Consequently, I do not heed to them too much these days. Besides, I am a little tired - about most things, and am saving almost all of my energy for work. I know that might be surprising coming from me - but I am currently liked a horse blindfolded by choice rather than fortuity.
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