The rhetoric
delusions I have forever associated with this inevitable numbness have finally
found a rebound. As insurmountable as it seemed the last time it happened, it
is happening yet again. The essence of everything I decided to leave behind
never really left me and the petty memories I keep hoping will eventually let
go of me, have detached themselves from their own existence, just to feed on
mine.
It’s 4 am
and I cannot sleep. You call it joyful pitter-patter, and I call it painful
chaos. I have spent the last half an hour waiting for this mess dimming the
sounds of silence to cease to exist. I would want to slip in, however,
listening to the symphonies of my own chaos, rather than the one outside this window
sill but I can’t ask for it to cease and I know you won’t.
Oh, look how
the rhythm is burning out, atom by atom, breath by breath. Maybe it finally
decided to dim out. Maybe this time, I will find my way out. Or maybe I will
slip in, yet again, waiting for this silence to dawn over me.
It’s rather
a snobbish habit I developed as a child, but I’ve never been able to surrender
to my subconscious till all atoms of this irrelevant music of life are blocked
out and sustained by a comfort that only pure stillness can bring. I have
forever been in love with the void that nothingness brings to me and existence
without it has always seemed to be a messy affair for me.
To whatever
insane sanity that is being called for, I have forever been deemed to be
handicapped when it comes to appreciating the mess of the inconspicuous
harmonies that this chaos brings, however it always appealed to my palette how
we could start over, every single time, like the music that the lone droplets
forever play on.
It is this
violin of life that reminds me of everything that I’ve ever been devoid of and
it is in these last few moments of my conscious salvation that I realize that I’ve
forever owned the stars that remedy all my misery. Maybe, pain isn’t so
inevitable after all. My rants, however, are.
And now, as the narrowing absence
of this constant chaos loosens its hold over the radii of my sprinting
thoughts, I am sketched down in life by the confused ticking of the motionless
hands of my semi dilapidated clock and I remember where I am. There is no
motion, only chaos and the musical symphonies of silence. The clock stopped
tonight, however, time never did.
So it is
time that I shall move on as the chaos seems to dull its own existence by the
second and it feels like home again, after a quarter million years. Is this how
it feels like?
Forever ticking like the lost
whispers of silence.
So, let me fall, before I ever have
to.
Let me fall.
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