Dreams 3: The Sickle and the Mother in Law

I looked through the window,

Broom in my hand,

Thoughts of sadness, depression and conspiracy,

Run through my mind, like grains of sand.

I close my eyes and hope it goes away,

But suddenly a warm yet refreshing breeze hits me,

I take a deep breath and smell the wheat,

I open my eyes and see the golden fields in front of me.

Across the fields, i see my husband,

Cutting the wheat with a sickle in his hand,

He looks troubled, maybe even worried,

but manages to keep his calm.

His mother is with him,

cutting wheat by his side,

Talking to him in hushed tones,

he nods and nods and looks as if a part of him has died.

I think they are conspiring against me,

My paranoia has gotten worse,

suddenly he turns around and streches his hands,

She looks straight at him, his back is turned to her.

She raises her sickle,

as he puts down his arms,

She chops and slices his hand,

like a piece of butchers ham.

She cuts off one arm and watches him writhe in pain,

Watching him flop and scream in agony,

She takes the sickle and cuts off his other arm,

He falls to the ground, blood spurting all around.

I watch this in horror,

I watch this and scream,

She looks back at me,

raises the sickle, its blade gleamed.

She has a smile on her face,

as she walks back to the house,

I scream for help,

but for miles around there is no house.

As she gets closer,

I begin to feel my heart in my mouth,

I run, run for my life,

and take up my guard.

I run down the staircase,

from the first to the ground floor,

there she is at the doorway,

Sickle in hand, blood trickling to the floor.

She takes a few steps towards me,

I take a few steps back,

She says let me finish what i started,

let me just chop off your head.

Your husband doesn't deserve you,

He deserves to be punished too,

He doesnt deserve to lose his life,

but my dear, you do.

She runs towards me,

she has that wicked smile,

her eyes are big and red and hot,

but her intentions are as cold as ice.

Then she moves closer,

I scream out in fear,

hush my dear it will be over soon,

There will be no pain, do not fear.

Then I wake up.

The Mirror

It amuses me what i see in the mirror,

I see myself everyday,

today is different, today is special,

I can see myself in a different way.

The world is topsy turvy,

My surroundings are a little strange,

I see it as the world around me,

but the outlook has changed.

My mirror reflects me,

but i dont see how or why,

Its the opposite of what i tel myself,

the denial that gets me to sleep at night.

The mirror is telling me about me,

I understand myself a little now,

I proved to myself i can be what i am,

but you cant fool the mirror throughout.

It reflects to you who you really are,

it reflects the truth out loud,

It has no inhibitions to tell,

after all its all you are.

Just a small change in perspective,

and it throws you off balance,

a crack a blemish or just a curve,

and your view of you changes.

The mirror is a great and terrible thing,

You may understand yourself better,

and you may choose to be amused and laugh,

but this time the mirror reflects your horror.

Horror at what you are,

and the anguish at what you have become,

This is not what you want,

But what the mirror reflects will still be.

You stop laughing,

you stare and stare and cry,

The mirror is still a harsh truth,

its the self image of you that must die.

You try and look away..

You try and break it and be free,

but you cant break it or look away,

Because the reflection is after all just me.

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 6.2

I write for i know noone is reading,

I write to free myself,

i write out of lack of companionship,

I write to liberate whats felt.

The staccato of my writing,

is almost always when im down,

but i have been writing off late,

since there is no frown.

I write to express myself,

I write to illuminate,

thoughts i have only thought off,

I write to illustrate.

Illustrate and accentuate,

my thoughts and hopes and what i dreamt,

I dont read what i write,

And I dont write to be read.

I write because im sad,

I write because im trapped,

I never write with a story in my head,

What flows out is never tapped.

The tap constricts what is flowing,

Its a control on my thought,

and control is what I give up,

When i write its from the heart and never from the top.

I write what i feel,

I write because i ramble,

I write to free myself,

I write therefore I am.

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 6.1

you do not hear me dying,

a kitchen, bathroom and a bookshelf stands in the way,

and i am irrelevant to the cause,

dying makes me go away.

Incessant thoughts fill my mind,

as the coughing gets worse,

as i feel my death dawn upon me,

i think about my life first.

and as the breaths seep out of me,

the thoughts become clear,

finally i have the clarity,

now the voices i can hear.

Destiny and fate,

both scare and comfort me,

its scary to realise your dying,

but comforting to know this is what is planned for me.

Curing Heart Break

Never mind the smell,

it goes away after a while,

the stitches are fresh,

dont walk yet they could tear.

the dial goes all the way up,

tell me when to stop,

when the pain gets too much,

you will know the memories fading.

Forgetting all the pain

forgetting all the misery,

knowing life will get back to normal,

but the scar will be a reminder.

you wont know for what,

you probably will forget when,

but you be glad you got it,

you will think of it as loss of pain.

heart break has no cure,

only memories that reside,

the deepest part of you will be missing,

but only for a while.

They will be replaced with new memories,

ones that make you happy,

but wen that smile turns upside down,

dont hesitate to come back again.

Dreams 2: The Sale

'Babies for Sale'

They shouted,

'Get your babies here'

They screamed,

'Fresh and young and right out of the womb'

Boys here and girls here', they screamed.

Teenagers and older women alike,

Men, too, browsed around,

'This one's cute, let's take him'

'No but I want a daughter around the house.'

I drove there looking form side to side,

No place to park my car,

I had to get there, quick, no doubt,

or the best ones will be gone to far.

My close friend, too, was with me,

She too wanted to see,

What the ruckus and hype was about,

Also babies fill her with glee.

The market was just outside our school

During the holidays, we delivered there,

We knew our babies would be gone,

For they were too cute, soft and fair.

As we reached there,

We saw our handler,

She stood proud as a horse,

She called us to the corner,

and showed us what she had kept out.

It was our babies, one boy one girl,

Giggling and gurgling with glee,

They seemed happy and healthy and fine,

We picked them up and held them finally.

And I wake up.

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 5

Waiting and waning,

my libido calls,

scattered across the universe,

the calling must fall.

In the fall or in autumn,

depressions are high,

leaving turning a different colour,

leaving people to sigh.

Sigh out of grief,

sigh out of relief,

Sometimes just a lonely sigh,

and other times writer block they believe.

I believe in insanity,

and in love at first sight,

how and when it happens, i dont know,

like a railway fist flight.

Fighting is a necessity,

fighting is a crime,

but if you prove yourself,

fighting proves your in your prime.

Prime numbers bother me..

the irraticity of its existence,

like love and hate and emotions,

all irrational in their perceptions.

Rational - irrational,

hope and dreams and the want to fly,

freedom is our birth right,

freedom is our will to survive.

Survival of the fittest..

cliche's everywhere,

death as an end or a beginning,

Thoughts will haunt us.. as idleness is in the mind's lair.