iconoclast inc.

Sickly Sweet purple darkness........

2012-02-06T10:02:00.000-08:00

I saw you standing at the foot of the bed

The moonlight kissing every hard angle every rise and fall of your chest

Your lean long walk

Your breath rising hard and slow

The ending of a song rising slowly in sync with my eyes following the light drifting touching caressing your skin

The purple darkness of the night .. the white smoke from the end of the cigarette on your moist hard lips.. unyielding quick to touch

Hour hands running from your temple to your strong shoulders

The glistening beads of sweat on your skin

The orange light burning from the end of the web of smoke

Your breathe taking it in as you look at me and pulling away to look away into the rich velvety sky

The cold drift the makes your taut soft skin rise with tiny little bumps .. I could count every one of them

The spirals of your hair .. the nakedness of you makes me take in more than I can take anymore..

You look back at me .. with those surprising brown eyes..

Your tongue that tastes of me trying to lick at your parched lips

The disconnect of you and me.

Tangible sex in the air

The room warm . the sheets warmer I lay back and turn to the white ceiling I seem to find maps of my broken memories

Your fingertips on my toes that were only moments ago curled in pleasure .

Not seeing you I see you even clearer.

My legs shiver in recollection of your tongue , your fingers , your chest

The throb within ,in no hurry to go away

Music and fantasy in the air

A guilty pleasure of love making while the world is asleep

the moon peeking out from the clouds to check on us

the light in the room makes me look harder at your taut curve and dip as you turn to drink water

the cliché of driping water on bare skin makes more sense than it ever did before.

Sense , thought and delusion melting into sickly sweetness like the last few pulls from a joint

Overcome , overwhelmed we breathe in the stillness and ethereal concoction of our souls unable to differentiate even with a rooms distance from each other.

The spell of the witching hour broken with your swift reach to the bed ,into between me.

this is right ........ this fits.

quiet cascade

2011-12-22T05:53:00.000-08:00

There is a deep dark place inside me. That seems to bleed into the rest of me.

Thoughts of violence, death, pain, angst, suicide a dilapidated version of i .

i .. so personal, so personal.. i so alone. so alone.

there is a surprising waiting in hope the flood lights turn on and suffocate the death in me

Thoughts of joy, of clear blue skies, of cold bright mornings, of laughter and love.

i .. so open, so open. i .. so happy, so happy.

Conversations you don’t want to have with Indian parents.

2010-09-02T03:40:00.004-07:00

You- mum .. dad .. – what is sex?

Dad yells to mum- “This is why I told you to put her/ him in an all boys/girls school!.. Nonsense..!”

Mum – “ bachaa , you go ask your teacher ok.”

……………..............................................

You- mum .. dad .. I want to take up arts..

Dad – what! Your grandfather was a doctor! Your great grandfather was an engineer.. your brother is a doctor!.. you want to do arts?.. what will you do for money?... beg on the streets?... eh??/.. don’t expect money from us.. I will kick you out of the house on your behind.. and then we will see where this arts will take you.

Mom- beta.. are you sure?..

Dad- what sure! .. I am sure.. that is more than enough.. how will you show your face to nana, nani .. dada dadi.. blah blah blee blee..?.. (at this point.. everything becomes blurry and you retrieve happier memories and fade out.

................................................................

you – dad.. mum – I think I can dance…

dad- go dance in your room.

you- (continues watching so you think you can dance quietly. )

..................................................................

You- dad mum . I met someone.

Dad- ah.. so did I on my way back from work.. you don’t hear me announcing it .. ?

You- I mean I met someone I d like you ll to meet ..

Mom- beta .. would you like to help me in the kitchen !

You- no mom, I need to tell you guys about this,

Dad- (clutching his heart) this is why I told you ,, we should have put her/him in india.. they go abroad and run around in bikinis .. I knew this would happen! Who is this person you have met??

You- her name is shaniqua ..

Dad- eh?... hindu?..(Muslim?/ Catholic?/Pentecost?/ replace with any Indian minority /majority religion)

You- umm no.. not exactly. She is an atheist.

Dad- there is no such thing.. where are her parents from?.. where are they originally from?

You- hmm… I want to say Nigeria. But they are what you d call. African American.

Dad- WHAT!

(This scenario applies to straight woman as well.. Replace shaniqua with jamal.)

..................................................................

You- dad…

Dad- ah .. STARTED.. what is it this time?.. you want to become a hippie rapper and tour the world peddling drugs?.. eh?.. nonsense.. when are you going to get a job and settle down..

Mom- yes darling.. Nasser uncle said he d set you up with an administrative job. Lot of growth.

You- umm no .. its not about a job or peddling anything… I think I m gay.

!! CONGRATULATIONS!! .. you just killed your Indian parents.!!

In the sanctity of a broken mind.

2010-08-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

A recurring dream

An animal outside the room.. a crazy mad song in the loudest decibel. I can recollect clawing at the door to get inside. I never really know what’s out there; I assume sometimes it’s a lion. A big gorgeous beast of a lion.

Is it a metaphor for coming to terms with who I am. Maybe I locked away my ‘dark passenger’.

Maybe it was sedated and the older I get, the harder it gets to keep the beast out, the more I realize it needs to be caged.

I wake up scared and not screaming. I wish I did get up screaming; at least it would be cathartic.

Maybe I need to get laid. I don’t know. People usually think that does the trick. Maybe , me closing a door on a side of my personality that was so violent and manifest, is the cause of the night terrors. A huge part of who I am , who most of us are is sex. Now I don’t mean, Bang Bang in the bedroom. But a more raw , SEX. That we make jokes about, we are ashamed of, we live our lives hunting it down. Sex, the basic rawness that we roped and caged into norms and rules. Matrimony and organized community.

I roped and caged and thought I killed the beast , when I stopped looking for happily ever after. When I grew up and the throbbing need got dull, I realized I dint need just a romp in the sack and five rug rats. I needed a friend. An honest loyal friend, who would never let me down and who I d never let down. We d go through life travelling, exploring the world and us. Living and having a fucking frenzy. It all became clearly unachievable , and I don’t say this in hopes of someday a knight with blue eyes should come change my mind and slay or befriend the beast. I say it with an understanding that what I want is unattainable for a number of reasons. Those reasons don’t apply to everyone. But they do to me.

To save my yearning, aspiring soul, I chained away my sex. A huge chunk of my soul and decided I was going to get through this alone. Its just me and me.. baby .. on this long ride home. I do believe from whence we came we shall return.

My rider was not on the Storm.. My rider is the Storm. The one thing I cannot allow myself to feel.. I welcome nature at its finest. Thunder.. Lightening.. Raw and scary.

Chaining all that.. has to be a bitch. And it comes back to bite me.. Most nights… if not every night.

It starts a smooth jazz.. a slow build into a drum roll and thundering explosive guitar solo and a screaming Bruce Dikinson, Cris Cornell,Anthony Caleb,Hendrix, Axel, Robert Plant ,Bonn Scott and Freddie Mercury all in unison .. Until my heart can’t take it anymore and I wake up in a cold sweat , heart pounding.. one heck of a ride.

stolen kisses

2010-08-06T14:28:00.000-07:00

He was just a boy and I just a girl

He was confused and I misunderstood.

I d given my heart many times before,

But no one was a prince on a white horse but him.

I his princess and he my king.

He was a boy and I a girl,

We were forced to kiss one warm evening,

In a game little boys and girls with red faces played.

We kissed and thunder and violins, were heard.

he came to me an hour later, with tears in his eyes.

He told me he loved me, in the dark when no one could see.

How did I not see.

How did I not see , this boy before.

He stood tall and fair ,

And I short and dark.

an unlikely pair.

He was a boy and I just a girl,

We stood on a cliff and the valley below,

Where games were played in evening’s cloak.

We stood with the wind in our hair and tears in our eyes,

Looking and seeing for the first time.

My prince before me, and I his queen.

He leaned to a soft and cold kiss.

He was a boy and I just a girl.

Nobody could tell us there were dragons and dungeons in the forest before us.

As the valley caught fire

We kissed in the white tower.

And in his palace while his kin stood guard,

The darkness was sweet with warmth and cold kisses.

And I called him my dreamy knight on white steed.

He stood fair and tall and

I short and dark.

An unlikely pair the two of us,

Fell in love.

Until one day he had to return home.

And he never came back and I never saw him.

Until years later ,I heard he was gone.

I thought of warm sunny afternoons and cold kisses in an ivory tower

My king , my prince , my knight was gone.

He was but twenty ,

His cold soft kisses with him were gone.

He was just a boy and I just a girl.

To crib

2010-08-05T17:12:00.000-07:00

Waiting-Impatience runs heavy with me. I have never understood the concept of taking things slow, or patience being a virtue. I do not like to wait. If I need it. I need it now. It can be my visa to study in the UK to waiting to be picked up or waiting to be asked out. Nope. I get angry, irritable and depressed in that order.
Liars- if I know you are lying; you will hear from me that I know you are lying. But lies of any kind annoy the Shiva out of me. Lying has many shades to it. Deceitful behavior- playing games with people mentally or emotionally. Pretending to be someone you are not. Trying to cheat, or cheating .none of this has to be toward me, if you are doing it. I don’t like you. Period.
Hot rooms- I detest sweating and rooms that are hot. I do not like people in hot rooms. I have an ill opinion of people who like hot rooms and work in hot rooms. Give me a morgue to work in, I ll do it.
Wearing pants / shorts/lower body clothing in bed- I hate staying over at peoples places for one reason, I have to wear the whole pajama set. It irks me to be restricted on cold sheets in a cold room and under a humongous comfy quilt. This also leads me to prefer sleeping alone.
Small beds- size matters.
People who cannot make up their fucking minds- people who cannot make up their fucking minds.
The American accent- give me a rolling malyali accent and throw in some of the north Indian obnoxiousness.. I’ll still find it quirky and funny. The American accent just seems unbearable. This is only in person. I like watching American television though.
Indians who put on a foreign accent- I say foreign because most often than not, an Indian is talking in a Russian American welsh hybrid with Slavic and Arabic influences even though they think they are pulling off a British or American accent.
People who have money problems and think it’s the worlds right to know about it- I like people who suffer in silence, I hate assholes who try to make it my business to know that they do not have money. I don’t mind being asked money but going to a store and looking at things with sad puppy dog eyes and the tongue clucking and the..” sigh… maybe when I get some money”. If you want it, buy it. If you don’t have the money, its not the end of the fucking world, sit your ass at home or do something (anything) that does not cost any money. Eg- go to the beach, spend time with your family , make ice cream at home whatever it is stop saying you don’t have any money.
Anything to do with hurting animals- this is too depressing to get into and too wide a topic.

Note- this is followed by deep deep dreamless ( I hate dreaming) sleep in a cold cold room under a oversized quilt in a king sized bed with no shorts on and no one to share any of the above with.. sigh the good life. The good fucking life.

goddess

2010-04-25T13:31:00.000-07:00

The goddess inside me is living and breathing. I don’t control her. She controls me.

She battles my fear and apprehensions. She turns me into a screaming banshee to a sultry manipulator. Men are playthings to her. She sees them as instruments of procreation and loveless creatures.

She is wild and free spirited, a ragged thorny rose bush, sweet smelling and deceptive at the same moment.

Her sigh is thought and pre planned. Intake of breathe and lowering her eyes to please and betray.

She teases and taunts men using my body as a vehicle of dynamic motion. A stutter and soft whisper are heavy with intention.

I know she’ll make me kill for love. I know she has absolute and complete control over my emotions and heat beat. I’ve learnt over time and over every injustice to control her and her madness.

She is happy and unforgiving, her laughter comes out in giggles and tears, and the more I stop her, the louder the cracks on my face become.

Her dreams are big and all consuming. She dreams for me and everyone around me. She is trusting and free.

She is tired of poised hands and crossed legs , I can feel her pushing against my insides , ready and coiled to burst out and run wild and free. Run without inhibition and laugh without a thought of the tears that come after.

She hurts easily, I can feel her sadness gushing and pushing through my chest and eyes when she is met with my resistance, when I stop her from living. When I continue my existence my lifeless muted existence.

A fierce mother is the only role she readies herself for; all other cloaks and skins are flammable and perishable. I can feel her stirring and scratching me on the inside for an offspring, as I crush her spirit with my doubts and insecurities. No man is good enough. Never will be. She knows that, but stirs me to mate. Making love is for the delusional. Love is never made, it is given and taken. Love is timeless. The best looking should suffice; I hear her whisper as she caresses me and softly pushes my chest forward and lips into a pout. We’ll make up for everything else. Her reach in every inch of me stirs an ache only another was meant to quench.

She wants to shock and entertain. She wants to serve and sustain. She wants a balance while fighting structure and normality. And I have learnt to shut her up.

Without her, I imagine a slow preparation for eventual blackness of death. A dismal nothingness, a void that is perpetually empty.

I know she stirs and keeps me awake. She is as fierce and terrible as images of kali, there are no in between steps, there is the beginning and the end . She is hovering over the second before complete and total annihilation. I love the thrill of her living breathing and monstrous soul inside me. I know I am not a lost cause when I feel her anger shift slowly and terribly into chaos. As she surveys the destruction before her, I know her warmth and familiar excitement at the sliver of dawn she imagines she sees.

The goddess inside me is devious, nurturing, manipulative and self sacrificing all in one breathe. She is impatient, ruthless and beautiful. I am her , she is me.

One billion bloody Indians on youtube.

2010-04-19T01:12:00.000-07:00

Get off the kitty dancing and baby laughing videos and get watching the plethora of cwazy talent on youtube.. you ll realize something .. no bloody Indians.. and no .. I m not talking about the rare random ABCD Indian on the tube. I don’t even think I’ve seen those in a while.

We are literally a population of 2 billion and counting and there are four or five people that are internationally known. How does something like that happen!

My solution to getting the truth and word out and in the open, is get on YouTube. Now I don’t work for YouTube, I wish I did. But I don’t. but take the time to browse the kinds of videos on there. You ll see for yourself, they are normal people , not anorexic , not airbrushed and not high on coke. People with families , people of all race , shape and kind. The genres of kind of videos are amazing, there is some real talent there.. from comedy sketches o make up gurus to a sex expert. You have interactive videos you choose the endings to and up and coming musicians.

The power of the tube? You may ask, well .. Justin Beiber was not to long ago just a sweet little boy uploading videos from his house. He got discover on YouTube and today he is someone all of us love to hate, hes making his million and then some more.

Make up artists who started out creating videos have gone on to make their own skin care lines. People have found the holy trinity on the YouTube, money , fame and love. Its about starting somewhere and sticking to it.

The point to this ramble, is getting you to make videos. It can be about ANY fucking THING. No nudity and you are set.

If you are funny, sit your ass down in front of your webcam and be funny. Do a routine, bitch about what you don’t like.

If you are an artist, record your next master piece.

If you can dance and/or are uncoordinated but have got the mojo, make a fool of yourself as well.

If you can sing, have a band , are even remotely musically inclined record that shit. If you just love music , talk about it, suggest music people should listen to. Bitch about the trash that being spewed out ever day from bollywood, kollywood and sandalwood for all I care.

If you love animals, visit your local shelter , do an expose on treatment of animals. Get your broke ass digital cam and start rolling.

Become what a citizen journalist. I for one , do not watch the bullcrap on the telly. And would much prefer watching the news online , unbiased truth without any hidden allegiance or agenda. Citizen journalism is untapped and in India.. oooo we know you have material. You can upload the next crazy woman bashing before the tv stations get there the next week. Interview people online. No script just reality.

I don’t have to list out each talent and how it translates onto video. Get a cam out and vlog for all I care, if you can find a niche for yourself good enough , if not.. keep on vlogging.

My only advice, be consistent, be patient, be honest. And don’t get affected by the hate comments, esp from another Indian. If there s one thing I know we love to do, if pull another person down. Keep ploughing through , use face book to market your videos. Stay true to yourself and always remember persistence is the only thing you have control of, you cannot control others reaction and opinions, all you can do , if create and put it out there. Persistence pays.

One billion of us online, will get us noticed. Seek out other you tubers. Build the Indian YouTube community. Make such an impact that some person see this as an opportunity to make money from and creates an awards ceremony for the real Indian. None of the blue eyed , blonde haired dim wits representing us all. The stubby , brown skinned angry frustrated indian is what I d like to see.

I tag you all .. and I mean each and everyone to create a channel and upload videos. You have a viewer and voyeur in me. Good luck.

On appreciating pornography. A dying art.

2010-03-06T11:44:00.000-08:00

As a woman, you d expect me to scream a sharp noise of distaste when the p topic comes up. But I actually appreciate and can see the appeal of the industry as a whole. It actually saddens me, to think if the slow but eventual demise of an industry built on the essence of taboo, and forbidden ventures of entertainment.

I like the shapes and forms in which an act so basic and yet so talked about is delivered to us. Delivered today, is silicon and enhancement drugs, nonetheless, Delivered, it is.

Porn does not judge you, it warps your sensibilities of what’s attractive and what’s not, but it does not judge you. You are a nerd, no problem; you are morbidly obese, and cannot reach your nether regions, no problem. You are graying old and hanging from places you aren’t supposed to, no problem. Porn does not judge you.

Recognized as a valid here to stay form of entertainment, you have expos and award ceremonies, does not get more legit than that. The irony is, the more legit it gets, the less appealing it is.

Though I still cringe when any affection is displayed on the telly or otherwise, in the vicinity of my parents, when otherwise, I couldn’t care less. No, wait I take that back. Its subjective.. I don’t remember being bothered in Europe and Bombay, but highly offended in Mangalore and Park Inn the weekend that just went by.

I should have studied the history of pornography and made this more interesting, but I found an excellent site that gives you a look see into the dynamics of erotica on reel.( http://www.filmsite.org/sexinfilms.html) .. I can’t remember the first time I happened to stumble upon porn, but a ‘hot and heavy’ scene was basic instinct.

my experience with pornography as such has always been quite amusing, I remember a particular Christmas, watching hours and hours of short reels of porn when I was in middle school with a friend. As we nursed a bottle of wine or two, and a humongous bar of toblerone, one of those giant ones. I remember laughing and seeing the patterns for the first time. The strange man / woman meet in public place and do the naughty in the said public place.

The next memorable experience was in high school with a close friend and her unlocked older brothers room, we ‘stumbled’ upon a cd ‘accidently’ , we put it into the computer and lo and behold beautiful gorgeous black men and women fornicating, who would have thought!..It turned out to be snoop dogs birthday porn shindig or something along those lines. Again, we sat in stunned silence, as though in shock and awe and the rest of the time we were in hysterics.

For the most part porn has been amusing and helpful in more ways than one. The bold brassy women know a thing or two.

Experiences with porn are very rarely personal. Either it’s a group of curious beedy eyed kids, a young boy trying to warm his girlfriend to the idea or sadly a masturbating boy and a parent walking in. we’ve all heard the stories and hopefully have not featured in too many.

Up until now, all of it has been funny, disgusting, or sad. Sad, when I know there are genres in porn involving people less than legal. Disgusting is a genre I can’t even bare to think about without feeling nauseous, excrement has a place in this world, and it most definitely is not something to share. Funny has to equal bestiality... I am an absolute animal lover.. But I am pretty sure the loving stops when inter species erotica comes into the picture.

There have been two movies that hit the spot for me, pun intended; the movies ‘Lie with me’ and ‘Behind the Green Door’ (only the first 37 minutes of it.) have to be it.

The two movies don’t fit in a particular genre; BTGD is a pioneer in its field. A movie that combined two of my favorite things first being a gorgeous chiseled black man and second ,music to match. LWM on the other hand, had passion that was real and palpable. I highly recommend the two.

It’s quite pathetic to think pornography for women is not easily accessible. And true to being a woman, I need a story; I need a form to the whole deed. I am beyond flowers and tears but something deeper and stronger I welcome.

I encourage you to live and learn vicariously, men sure need a lesson or two. You don’t have to be built like a stallion, what you don’t make up in the pointy places , you could in technique( for some women at least.) women can pick a few notes , the passion ,generosity with flattering oohing-ahhing, and confidence, to name a few.

I also encourage you to demand for better quality, I can’t believe I have to go back in time to find the good stuff. For all the 1000’s of GBs of collection ,boys wear on the shirts like a badge, (stain on their pants would be more appropriate?) I don’t think a lot of it is very memorable.

Let me know what you think of the suggested movies, if you ever come by them.

his/her.2

2010-02-01T04:33:00.000-08:00

Her

The envy drips into corners of my body. Places I dint know existed. The pain becomes unbearable and for a good minute I can’t breathe. Thinking of him asking , inquiring about another woman. Makes me question and hate my friend. I am not with this man, but to hear that he was asking about another more attractive, different woman , makes me lurk on how she is ugly, in spite I turn to my aunt and tell her , how promiscuous this friend is. And it’s the truth, but unnecessary, saying these vile things about her is my personal salbutamol. I can breathe again. Somehow I fool myself into believing in a cosmic way , he hears my outburst and would be repelled by her.

This is why; I am defunct as a partner. My insecurities jeopardize any chance of being happy with someone. Well, lusting after a remotely good looking man, whose character is nothing but a void, ready and ripe to be filled with unnecessary truths, petty details, knowledge of habits, likes/dislikes of no consequence. Until the clear picture is pitted against his future with me. Until all this know about him, gives me reason enough to be dissatisfied and disillusioned of any hope of a future together.

It’s a good thing I am alone, yes. It’s a good thing.

Him

The difference between my women friends, and girlfriends, prospective bedmates. Is how much I know about all of them. The degree of insight into who they are and how they function.

A friend. Is someone I’ve known for a long time, and for one or more reasons have not indulged in carnal relations with(in uninebriated state). She is the friends girlfriend, an ex girl friend, childhood friend. This woman, is someone I know everything about. I don’t mind the cotton undies. I don’t mind the no make up look. I don’t mind the runs in her stockings. She has to meet a certain criterion but it’s a bar that’s not too high. She is someone I am excessively dependant on when I have been without woman for an extended period of time. Dry spell is you will.

Girlfriend, she is the one who almost got away, the one who is demanding, high maintenance, and throws me the challenge. Her, I know little about. But learning about as the days go by. Until I know too much. She has to most definitely meet high standards. A hint of dependency, and its over for me. I like her to be wanted and lusted after.

Potential/prospective bed is the ultimate challenge; it’s the woman I don’t know anything about. I don’t care to know, it’s woman I meet randomly, but know in the most intimate sense. The wildest ride.

ink

2010-01-12T11:55:00.000-08:00

Breathing heaving monster, I run away from life, as it breathes heavily in my ears.. as it heaves against me .. Tests me.. Pushes me to the point where I can see my mediocre life flash before me.

The dreams I have now, are ones of me alone. Alone in life, alone in dream. Alone in thought.

The last lonely dream I had, was soothing and relaxing and sensual. But I was alone, dreaming in a dream of the broad shoulders of a man with poetry in his heart.

In this fantasy, I was running away.. From nothing in particular but I ran, and ran like I have not in real life. The last time I ran, was when I was a child. The feeling was vivid, the spots I could see, the gasping, hurtful breathing. Until I run to a harbor, and the wet air envelopes me, like I ran into its arms. I run to the end of the boardwalk and find a small yacht and jump on it, and sail out into the darkness.

As I stand and maneuver the boat the air around me , is comforting and shameless in its reach, I go deep and deeper into the night and stop when I can see the city as a line of tiny flickering lights.

The noise ceases, and I stand looking at the quiet before me. No waves, no storm, no drama. Ink everywhere, touching, caressing the boat, teasing and taunting me. Trying to lure me in and without another thought I take off every piece of cloth on me, and step gingerly into this teasing ink. The warm water is surprising. The days have been cold and lonely, the sea is the last place I could imagine finding solace.

The velvet water and black eternity around me, starts scaring me, the thought of no end, no beginning, I can see the start from here, if I look back. But the end is endless. The bottom is unforgiving. I feel the beginnings of courage, and me bravery pushes my chin up and the high pushes me to swim into the nothingness, I swim slowly never wanting to rise above the surface. My feeling of letting go kicks in and I dive deep into the water, and swim in no particular direction.

As visions of a man come to me, a tall, strong stranger with a Deep beautiful voice, the cliché makes me swim deeper, And deeper. I feel crushing force around me, as my last breathe escapes my mouth in ticking bubbles, trying to con me into making the rational decision and go to the surface. As I fight the waters push. I suddenly forget which way is up and which down. The unbearable sadness takes over me again, and I close my eyes and stop fighting. A few seconds that seemed like an eternity later, I m back to crying hot tears that drop down my face, I open my eyes and see the boat inches away from me, and stop. I have to go back. I swam toward reality, toward giving life a second chance.

I climb back on, as I start feeling the semblance, a flicker of hope, an emotion long forgotten. The air is chilly, and every tiny hair on me skin is alive. This is the most alive I’ve felt in a long time.

I uncork a bottle of wine that was on the boat, and lie down and look up, a million reasons to live shine down on me.

his/her.1

2010-01-12T11:24:00.000-08:00

Him

I hate the months after two months into a relationship. I hate date nights, I hate his/ her towels, I hate cotton underwear a woman starts wearing after a month.

I hate the sound of a human breathing next to me. Movies about dying cancer patients don’t make me cry, movies like the notebook make me mad. Physically mad, because they make a woman think every man that comes by her way should act and behave like this sappy , spineless twat.

As I walk to work, I see the back of this woman, beautiful smooth skin. See here’s my problem, I only like parts of a woman. I am what every woman wants to have, a man she can tame. women , like having things to do. The moment she doesn’t have something to do. She gets bitchy and cranky and depressed, first the sex goes out the window, next the nagging and crying for no reason start. That Is exactly why I will never want to be the perfect man because the perfect nice guy repels women. Have you ever seen a nice guy land a hot broad. No , exactly.

I look at the back of this woman. And imagine taking her home , and looking at her back some more, from a better position, her bent over to be precise. I don’t believe in everlasting love, sooner or later, I m going to find a spot or two on her back, and dry skin. And the magic dies , snap!.

Her

I don’t wait for him to pay the bill. I pay my own bills. I pick up tabs, and I drive myself to places. I have been in love so many times, I know the works. i am a girl, like any other girl. i don’t fall in love with my best friend who was secretly in love with me, it’s not a movie. Its real life. The nice guy , hmm… does not work for me. Ultimately, I’ll marry the nice guy, until then. I have all the bad guys to make memories with. Unconditional love does not exist. I am an excellent liar. Like every other woman.

I love kids, but will never have any of my own. I aim high, try low.

I listen to rock and alternate music a year ago, the hip hop finally got me. It disgusts me now, but I try to go back and listen to rock, to try and make it move me. It does not.

I’ve lost more and more of who I am over the years. Adulthood is not for most. I am not the perfect woman. I will never be the happily ever after woman. I am the one before that.

I don’t intend to be this disser of all things valentine. I intend with all my heart to feel the glory of love and its trappings. My intention is one great love story, with a ravishing leading man, and me the leading lady, not the best friend.

why i ll never be in a relationship.

2009-12-29T23:10:00.000-08:00

disclaimer: i do not assume all men have the same agenda, so don't be hating. this particular piece came off a conversation with a friend , he had no clue it was coming. :)

"hey, my name is .......... , and yours does not matter.. no.. don't tell me , i insist. it just makes things interesting and i wouldn't remember it anyway.

would you like to come over to my place?.. for some coffee ,pathetic attempt at small talk, wine and then some sex, later?. or better yet , can we go over to your place. so it makes it easy for me to leave the next morning.none if the cuddling shit !.. ha ha .. you know i be hating that.
breakfast ?.. no no .. not required, what would we talk about anyway?.. i don't really have women friends, because i fuck them off (yes , not scare, but fuck). they don't stay when they realise i have no respect for women. no wait that is way too cliché, i actually dont consider women to be of any particular importance except maybe, spread on command.

yeah , you think i m funny?.. ohhhhhhhhhhhh you think i m retarded?... ha ha ha .. your loss. would you rather be played , a long time... would you rather i buy you roses and chocolates. and make grand promises. until the very moment i stick my wee wee in you and then dust my hands off leaving you feeling betrayed and hurt?.. you would ?... really ?.. you'd be pining away for months... !.. and crying yourself to sleep,getting these women empowerment talks from all your girlfriends?, watching inane sitcoms, that in your right mind you would never give the time of your day to watch. you want to spend all that money on the break up hair-cut, and break-up shoes?..and then have the rebound relationship, further damaging your fragile sense of self and whishy washy dreams of a man, honest and a man with good intentions.

would you like to turn into this dike after countless such heartbreaks?,, and toture people with your ideologies and mail poor unaware people your agenda?..

stay this way, stay hopeful, and stay docile, let me have my way with you. but know this. i do not care for your name, for your parents names, i do not care if you grew up with daddy issues, i do not care if your favourite color is black but you tell people its purple. i do not care if you wear a size 6 or 20.
i m just glad you heard me out. now.... would you like to go over to your place, spend the night with me. and get back to your life the next day?.. "

rated: unsuitable for adults.

2009-12-29T22:48:00.000-08:00

This isn't really a new post, this is a response to an amazing blogger called Anslem Samuel, he maintains a blog called 'naked with socks on' , way back in July i read a post in his blog titled

'you wouldn't wanna be my bitch?' this is the link to his post http://www.nakedwithsockson.com/2009/05/20/dirty-pillow-talk/

after reading this , very passionate post , i went into a frenzy and wrote up a little storm myself.

its called 'yes I'd be your bitch' (http://www.nakedwithsockson.com/2009/06/24/she-likes-it-rough/) , i sent it to anslem soon after and he put it up on his blog, bless his heart.

this post is for very broad minded people , who like the occasional erotica, or frequent erotica, whatever floats your boat.and this is not an invitation for lewd comments and mindless requests to make friendship in a park, car or anywhere else. so read, and move on.

“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to tease and taunt me long
Before we get behind closed doors.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll pull me hard and strong against your body.
Your grip turning hard from soft as you look into my eyes,
Silently promising the ride of my life.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If tonight I can and will be your animal,
And all of it is etched on your walls and in your mind forever.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll let me rip your clothes while I straddle you.
Tearing everything that stands in the way—your clothes, your
inhibitions, your past.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you treat me not like a fragile female, but an equal in every sense.
Be not gentle—I’ll beg if that’s how you like it.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me push you against a wall, look up into your eyes,
Tell you to hold on for dear life, and I see no judgment in your eyes.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you pull me up in the middle of frenzied fellatio.
Push me against the same wall, and growl against my mouth, “It’s my turn!”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let my hands guide your head, yank your hair, steer you, and
grind against your mouth,
’Til I explode, shaking, pulsating and spent against you.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you don’t settle for one orgasm, pick my exhausted body,
And resurrect me with your words, lips, hands and manhood.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you ignore my feeble protests to tie my hands above me,
And have your way.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes really.
If you tease me until I beg you to enter me, and wrap my legs around you,
Matching your movement with mine.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to make me scream, promise to whisper, “louder, louder…”
Uncaring, untie me, turn me around, grab my hips, watch me, look at me
like you have at no one else,
Order me to turn around and watch you make me your plaything.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to let your guard down and let me take control.
Let me be on top, and watch you tremble and groan.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If I can ride you, closing my eyes, body arched, speaking in tongues,
nails digging into your chest,
While you plunge into me and hold my waist, punishing me with each thrust.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you push yourself off the bed so you can look at my changing expressions,
My legs wrapped strong around your waist and watch me melt, slowly
dying into your body.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If your nibble turns to a bite, and your bitch turns to a whore.
If you take it up a notch, surprising me every second, reiterating,
“I’ve never known a time like this, and none that follow will match
this.”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If once I let out my primal scream, I can watch your body tense until
you melt and fill me with you.
I want you to let me see you at your weakest. Bare yourself to me.
Uncaring of time, indulgence is all that exists.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you lick my bruises, and let me soothe your wounds,
Murmuring loving, doting nonsense that only you and I can understand.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me take my time to look into your eyes to try and fathom
what we’ve shared.
Let me watch you look at me, and see you frown at my questioning gaze.
Kiss me reassuringly; this was not just one night.

The art of fighting..

2009-10-03T02:28:00.000-07:00

Fighting as good fight .. does not always happen easy. In essence a fight , for your entertainment and others.. should get down and dirty. Hitting below the belt.. do it!.. as hard as you can!.. Involving friends and people not remotely involved .. make it a circus!.. Trashing their parents and siblings.. give it your best shot.. !.. Sexual mind games… !.. no rules there.. sigh how much fun it would be.. to take out the dirty linen , wash without softener and hang dry all out in the open.. and then get aback to normal the next day. None of of us would be frustrated. We d get to say what we really feel.

“I hate that you crack lame jokes in front of my friends.” “I think you need to go to the gym”, “do not kiss me right after you eat a whole freakin bowl of garlic butter!” “I hate that your feet smell!|... “stop being so stingy on dates!”.. “ask your friend to take a hike.. she is too pretty to be around me, I m getting a complex!” “pay for a date once in a while!” alas… saying these things out loud compromises and makes our sanity questionable.

So how do you fight a good fight , while keeping your dignity and blowing off steam. I am hardly a source to learn from , with my amazing luck with men . I should be stoned for even thinking I could give any advice. But as I ve said before , those who cannot do , teach. And since I am almost, I repeat almost savage when it comes to relationships, from it all . I learnt to fight a good clean fight. And with someone as opinionated as me, oh there were fight. Lots of em.

Rules are for the people that write for cosmo. There are no rules. Relationships are not games. That you plan your moves and strategically analyze every word you say. You don’t plan. If you do plan , you are doing what many do , and sadly I think, you are doing the whole thing wrong. I pray you meet someone who does not play by these ‘rules’. One particular rule that I recently learnt and paid for , was taking things slow. Only thing is , I forced myself to do it. After I did the opposite of taking things slow , after I put myself out there , each and every time. This taking things slow, requires you to play a lot of games. Firstly , you can never betray what you really feel, you don’t make declarations of love in any form/gesture. And god forbid if you talk about a future together. When you get into a relationship looking to take it slow, lets see how things go. You started playing the games already. You get into this union assuming the other person is a slime ball and they have to work their way up, they have to work to gain your trust. You assume the other person will eventually break your heart. Maybe it works for some people. Maybe they work at finding out, oh you know what, now that we have been together for seven years, I guess its ok to believe that we will be together, and maybe now, we can talk about where you want to go for dinner this weekend.

Back to fighting the good fight, my stand on rules being made clear. One thing every body should know when you are fighting with somebody you love. It can be absolutely anyone. Your mom, your best friend, your ‘special’ friend (special not in mentally challenged way, not that you cant have a special friends, just that I thought it weird to call some one you were with a lover, anyhow!), remember do not compromise the relationship. If you are fighting about a condescending statement made at you, in front of your friends. Let the arguments be only about that.

Do not, pass judgment. The moment you do that, you’ve just opened up a whole new box of rotten right there.

Do not, insult the person itself, but point out the isolated incident.

Do not label the person. Do not call the other person pessimistic, negative, suspicious or whatever terms you can label someone with. All of this compromises your relationship. Let the arguments be about what the person has done, and not who the person is. Give the person benefit of doubt.

When you go into a fight, with judgment or your own conclusion, you again compromise the relationship past and future. Keep your mind open, open to the idea that the other person loves and cares for you, and would never do something to hurt you on purpose. It may seem obvious, but we rarely keep these things in mind when we are going at each others throats.

These rules that we make every relationship revolve around make relationships dysfunctional, long before you get into one. It becomes this cycle that strengthen rules that only break down what never existed. Rules like, it has to be six months before you learn you love someone, we have to have been together four years before I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if the guy is really into you he ll pay for the dates, another one that is so offensive its funny ‘bros before hos’, I know despicable, but you gotta admit its funny.

The particular rule about staying in a relationship for ages before knowing you want to be with some one has me confused. Why would you ever want to be with someone you are just not sure about for a long period of time, than be with someone you’ve know for a while and you feel amazing with and know for sure , this is the one. If you do, end up with someone you were on the fence about for a long time, you end up settling.

Watching a movie the other day , a dialogue in that movie really hit a note within me about relationships or the joke that relationships have become today. The dialogue goes something like, the power in a relationship lies with the person who cares less. While this may be true, the character in the movie ends up realizing how wrong this statement in the climax redeeming himself ,I realized the realization does not really dawn on most of us . We live out relationships , trying to be the person who cares less, so we can have the power in a relationship. In a relationship, that is the lowest you can sink. Are you that bad at everything else in your life that you try and gain control by being an insensitive jerk to another person who loves and cares for you,And puts aside their ego in the bargain. When you try to gain that power in a relationship you again compromise something that could have been good. Relationships that are played like a game, always end. Either in a screaming match in front of everyone, or a quite affair that has everyone in your life involved fueling both sides. When you fight, it should be sorted with your partner, not consulted and debated about with your friends like little school girls. It easy to do that to someone. When you build up your ammo with a friend on the side while the other person is clueless, and you drop the bomb one fine day on them, you have the power. It becomes very easy for you to cut any strings. But at what cost?

Another thing people have to realize is looking at the bigger picture. Remember when you argue, You only get to know that much more about the other person, Does this person fight dirty? Does this person drag my grandpa into our squabble? Does this person try to injure my feelings? For example I actually know someone who used to tell her boyfriend the nastiest things during a fight, things like his genitals paled in comparison to her previous lovers. Or that he was bad in bed. Now, us women keep telling ourselves, oh my lord its so hard to find a good man!.. What some of us don’t know is, there is an equal number of absolute grade A jerks that belong to the fairer sex. And most men, don’t realize what they are up for, they underestimate a woman’s caliber to harm and traumatize you. Oh believe me; they don’t know what they are in for. If you can keep your ears and eyes open for someone who fights fair you have a keeper. Don’t judge how much you fight, the more you look at an argument as a window to problems bigger than the little things you start appreciating and reducing the frequency of these fights.

Other things like not abusing, is but obvious. Never do it. Never ever, not even in Hindi.

Do not ever undermine your partner in front of other people, known or unknown, even if they are the fruit of your loins, You are always a team, stay that way.. Another thing, do not bring up, stuff that has been sorted in the past.

The old saying ‘never go to bed angry’, try following that. It makes a lot of sense. Fight your battles today, and fight with all the fervor you can muster, but know what you are fighting for, at the end of it. a fight is not against the person you love, but for the person you love. You fight because you care. You would never fight a stranger if they dint hold the door for you, or they don’t call you back. You are only fighting to keep things together. Fights are good. You know when people say, ‘that couple does not fight… ever!’.. the statement is usually followed by , ‘ooo they must really love each other’.. bzzz wrong !... they probably gave up on each other a long time back . The right response is .. hmm.. ‘Something’s weird about them.’ Yes something is weird about it. now you know .when couples fight , and they are fighting the good fight, and not comparing the width and breadth of each others sexual organs, it usually means there is something worth fighting for. And that’s the only reason it bothers them. So don’t scare easy, hold on. And keep it clean.

why do we mess each other up so badly?

2009-08-17T12:39:00.000-07:00

Mr. messed up- what did you do today swee pea?

Miss. messed up some more- ummm.. I spoke to guywhowillbreakusup …. And he asked about me moving to the uk this year.

Mr. messed up-uh hu.. uh hu.. so whatdidja tell him .. ?... baby .. ?.

Miss messed up some more - that I had to think about it, have to save up some money, I don’t think I could afford an education abroad right now..

Mr. messed up- wow… what are you trying to do to this relationship?..

Miss messed up some more - what ??!...

Mr.messed up- you have to ‘think’ about it .. I mean .. ‘Think’.. really.. ‘Think’.

Miss messed up some more - yes.. Paying for an edu abroad is a big deal.. I mean

Mr messed up- why don’t you just go ahead and marry the guy, I mean you are practically doing it with him.. huh.. why don’t you .?.. why don’t you?...!!. huh ??? huh???... tell me ?!

Miss messed up some more - wha?... because he is all the way in uk.. and its physically impossible.. but ..

Mr.messed up- ooooh .. so if he was here , you d be dry humping in his car .. yes?..

Miss.messed up some more - ok.. dry humping . is something you like to do… not me. And I would not hump him .. dry or wet .. and why the hell do you have to call it hump anyway .. I ve told you like a million times.. I hate that word..

Mr messed up- would you make tender sweet love in the car with him?

The above conversation unfortunately is a reality for most people. Reality being developed over years of bad relationship and bad experiences.

The simple dates, that we hoard up on... turn into the monstrosity we call relationships. As years pass by, and you give more and more of your self to these systems, your trust , sense of commitment and responsibility amalgamates into cynicism and regret.

I cannot recall meeting a single person who has been in more than one relationship and has the same outlook on how to go about dating as when the were virgins to the entire game. . The more people we engage in romantic associations with the more warped and negative we view committed relationships to be.

The brief beginnings of couplings have you giddy with joy and a general sense of optimism. When that subsides you have complicated layers, hidden agenda and discontentment. You fear what comes next because you’ve been trained to dread phase two. The phase where your eyes are wide open and you can’t deny the ugly bits. They are glaring and they are loud.

All your past endeavors instead of serving to be learning experiences become a bulletin board and checklist to assist the demise of yet another go at the game.

Phase two- small fights, arguments, general air of gloom, not replying back to texts and calls, ‘we need to talk’ talks, crying to your friends, listening to them tell you I told you so.

Phase two.. I think is your make or break phase.. you should milk this one. and milk it good. Go at each others throats with no holds barred. Don’t hold back. Attack .. but play by the rules. Be complelty honest , be fair. And don’t keep count. You survive phase two .. and you’ve pretty much got it.

Keeping the fact that we are all essentially messed up, and messed up like how. You have to give yourself a time out and take a good long hard look at patterns. Look for things you’ve done time and time again … the day I realized how badly I’ve been morphed into a cautious , short fused pessimist, was when I realized. I probably did a hell of a job on guys I’ve dated too.

Recall your arguments; recall the battles you let go. Recall snide comments that you meant to hurt. And realize how every line you delivered. Every little mind game you played, does not make the person any better.. But wires them for failed relationships tomorrow.

I’ve yet to realize a healthy relationship based on respect. A relationship where both people come to it clean and without baggage. Where both people come, without the need to jump to conclusions and are quick to pass judgment. Where your every move is not linked to a previous experience and played like a strategy game. Your reactions are not practiced, your love making not gauged by previous user feedback. Your romance fresh. I have yet to come across this. Maybe we are wired to being cautious, because we get our hearts broken so easily and readily. When we have put ourselves out there, we have been trampled by the usual ‘I don’t know yet.’, or ‘its too early for us.’, or ‘lets wait a while’.

How quantity is equaled to quality today I just don’t get. How does six years, make you realize you want to spend another six years with them. How is gut feeling equaled to years of being tentative about a relationship? Maybe all of us have different love modes; mine seems to be in full throttle. No matter who I’ve been with I have always been ‘madly’ in love. The kind Where you go into it naïve and feel every single pulsing emotion, makes you feel alive and yet wanting to end it all in drama never witnessed before. Feeling lows that you never thought you’d experience. Then again, this rapture and passion, has hardly served me well. Maybe I am meant to meet my match, the guy who is loud, obnoxiously happy and not afraid to be gut wrenchingly depressed. Someone who puts himself above and beyond the line, like I do. Someone who gives, exceeding the expected and norm. It will be a romance of drama, tragedy and might make a mighty good script for a cheesy mainstream B-grade chick flick(those are the best kind).

Maybe the next time, we meet someone, and your belly does a flip. Your head feels happy and light and you are floating on a cloud of seemingly unending happiness. Promise yourself you won’t bring your past to the table, and I mean really promise yourself that. Promise your partner, you are new and vulnerable and hope he is too. Life is so fleeting and passing to be apprehensive and cautious. Sometimes, you will meet the perfect person and they are clouded with their hurting past, they are morphed into being suspicious and distant. You can only give so much of yourself to such people. Your passion makes them distant. Your tears scare them. It is not their fault. It is ours, it is all of ours. We wire them to mess relationships up, for systematic breakdown of what could be the most meaningful event in all our lives.

The coming together of people devoid of shame, guilt, pre-conceived notions and unending capacity for love. Makes for healthier happier relationships and a better base for families. Happy homes.. happy people. so loosen up.. and try leaving behind everything. The past has nothing to offer in relationships. Don’t hold on. Let go. Bring on the tears and laughter. Let the drama unfold.

When the air makes love to a woman

2009-07-31T14:03:00.000-07:00

It sweeps into her long black hair, setting it free, touching her warm scalp. Releasing the heat. Sweeping down her temples, she carries the wisdom of centuries, the pain the pleasure. Setting her worries to float, dandelion of reservation lift off her eyes . Her eyes shut so tight, she does not have to see. She does not want to.

She chooses to be blind and heightened, when the air envelopes her, smothers her, lifts her, loves her. Her soft neck exposed, and tender to its touch. The tiny hairs uplifted with her rising desire.

Her naked body spins slowly as she lets her self go, the air lifting her arms. She looks victorious, the years of shame and domination slowly evaporating as beads of sweat trickle away.

Her bosom heaving, taking in all she can, breathing fast and slow, making love to her lover, her life giver. She is free, she is god.

Her pleasure obvious, betrayed by her hard nipples. She is uncaring, she is for all the world to see, being made love to. Her stomach lined with labor, of love and suppression. Each scar telling a tale far too rich to fathom. The possibility of life slumbering, waiting to wake. Rising and falling as she takes as much as she can to release her maturity, regain her chaste untarnished soul.

Her gyrating hips that hold in between what can only be desired the most, what can only be the sweetest fragrant nectar. Her moistness, warm and trusting. Vulnerable and bare. Her legs slowly move to an unheard tune, her feet that bare this magnificent creature, this perfection. Arms outstretched, reaching for nothing, seeking nothing. Her lips dry and laughing lifted in an unseeing gaze to the stars.

This being, that gives her self everyday, to constriction, is free. She is not mother, she is not daughter, wife or sister. She is woman. She is free.

why do we feel wanting to date a pretty face , needs justifying?

2009-07-14T10:21:00.000-07:00

Seeing Bruce Springsteen sing we are the world along with the others in the video, I decided I want him. And I want him now. I’ve never been interested in his songs, they never touched me. They never moved me. But watching that younger version sing with his eyes closed. Good lord I m a believer. That’s when I realized. It matters. It definitely matters.

Easy on the eyes, easy on the heart, maybe not that cheesy. But being pretty helped. And how?! All I could think about was googling his name and torrenting his discography. So if a woman tells me, no I don’t care what the guy looks like, he has to be good and kind. I will point and yell lie!... LIE LIE LIE. You lie. With the ferocity of a lioness, Maybe not. But I will yell. Because, it matters. Yes it does. I care what he looks like. I want him tall I want him big , I want him pretty. Just as he wants me thin, wants me pretty. Can you blame them? Is it not the candy that you notice first? It’s a different thing if you don’t agree with e , that’s only because you are in denial and have not been Bruce Springsteened . That’s a predicament waiting for a shrink..

Scenario one- you walk into a club, your entire alum frequents so much so , that other non alum have stopped visiting the place. You enter this hole, and your eyes go to the sharpest, no explanations . Just yes or no. it does. Who? is your business, but it will fall on your idea of hot. Not on the one with the best personality. But the one who is delicious to look at, you want that tight piece of tush. Admit it already. The next time you point and say, men are shallow. Listen to your body, and how it reacts to Mr. Strong jaws or Mr.Six pack. When your own personnel Joe Cocker croons ‘you are so beautiful’, you’ll know what I say is true. Again, what happens after you enter the club and watch the man candy make an ass of himself, or he has a tongue piercing that makes you question his sexuality. Nevertheless, until proven otherwise, you’ve got belly flips and ears on fire every time he looks at you. He may turn out to be a grade A bastard , but you know what you and the girls are going to do. Hate him even more because he is a waste of pretty. And then judge other s of his kind, all good looking men are bastards. The ring widens with age to all men are scum , but that’s a different story.

These beautiful men, make us level headed women, do strange unbecoming things. If my memory serves me right, one such beauty, made me diligently visit the gym day after day. Olivia Newton Jhon was never truer. I was convinced that pout and broad shoulders would keep me coming back for more. I went to the gym on Saturdays, yes Saturdays. His bench press was stuff wet dreams are made of. The coy glances through the mirror,’can I help you with that?’ And leaving at the exact same moment every day, riding the elevator in absolute silence I m hot just thinking about it. He did what none have come close to doing; I lost ten kilos on the man honey programme. Yes I did.

Women akin to men, make it easy for “good looking rascals”… but one key difference. We hate the good looking as much as we love them. It’s a harder for him to fit in, because the other boys are threatened, and the girls are cautious. The heart breaker, is judged before he opens his mouth. He is expected to say two polarized sets of things, something extremely stupid and something extremely intelligent. Do you know how hard that would be? Fall on your face or be Mensa candidate. Anything.. If you do know what it feels like.. Give my ladies a shout out.. I m guessing you are phat. Moving on. The good looker, is also given a lot of slack, you commit a crime and everyone does a “omg but he is so good looking….” Yes they are pardoned with a plea bargain of I m too pretty for my own good. again its comes with the appealing wrapping paper.

I’ve seen how an absolute a grade male genital personified was given a pass even though he was duller than John Abraham’s acting(good lord that boy is fine.) he would say the most ridiculously dull things, and all of us would go, “he is such a boring sob, but he is so pretty……..”….( Groaning included)

A man’s good looks, we expect him to be insanely good in mills and boons way, the type where two opposite characteristics are put together and expected to co-exist. The strong but gentle. Make up your mind already! Strong or gentle.. Or strongly gentle, Or gently strong… these people who put.. Transparent but mysterious.. And hot but humble in the same sentence, are just plain greedy. Like the bisexuals. Pick a bloody side!

Why you shouldn’t be coy about wanting a beautiful man? Here’s why, because you should not expect anything but the best. Women have been trained to settle. Well, stop the habit. Break the cycle. Have you seen those odd couples, gorgeous voluptuous woman with balding passive aggressive pot bellied Frodo? Yes, it is not because he has character. It’s probably because she bloomed late, or she is like all of us trained to believe we should deny our instincts. I make no apologies for anything I will say, a conversation with my very wise best friend who I also dated for a bit (I mention this purely because , you d realize how much close those friendships are.), told me how shallow his kind were, and I enjoy honesty. He admitted a stupid but pretty girl had longer shelf life than ugly dumb girl. Maybe they’d tire of her eventually, but it would take longer. And that was the truth. A beautiful pig of a woman was also tolerable. A beautiful bitchy woman, big thumbs up. I enjoy honesty; I enjoy the simplicity of it. It takes time to get used to the fact that we are a superficial shallow species of mammals who only wants to perpetuate as much as we perpetually can. But you eventually do, and then it’s easy. Come over to this side.

Pride yourself in your looks; I detest women who say, “he should love me no matter what I look like.” Give me a bloody break. Really? unshaven, badly dressed and smelly?... do you really want someone who wants that? Do you expect so little of yourself that you d let yourself go and be a slob. Isn’t it nice to look on the outside what you feel on the inside. Confident, smart, sexy and sophisticated. There will be times when you are unwell and just don’t feel like it, that doesn’t excuse a constant repulsion of bathing products.

Let me let you in on some Gyaan , if you make an effort to get dressed up and look the best you possibly can and should someone like what they see, and decide to stick around. You’ve reeled in a good un, like attracts like. And we are so self obsessed we fall for people just like us. And if you dress like a slob.. Honey.. a slob you will get. There are only a few minutes of weather you can talk about. Eventually you’ll know If there is more you can tolerate. And when that happens, and you seem to never run out of things to talk about, it’s worth a shot. After a year the chemicals in your head die down either way. There after it’s up to you, stick it out, move on to the next. That’s not my interest, what I want is, to break the cycle. Expect the best from yourself, and others. It’s ok to expect! its respectable to expect, give people the opportunity to prove themselves worthy , just as you would. Be the best you can, and you’ll get the best in return. Thereby breaking the succession of half hearted romances, bed hopping and badly dressed people.

A fresh prejudice of stale marriage

2009-05-23T01:54:00.000-07:00

She is divorced, she is hot and she is coming to get you.

Failed marriages, marriage -dirt on your chin, gum in your hair and any other reference that belittles marriage and the tie that begs to be held on to, long after the rope is withered and dust. Like what the heat in the dessert does to old nylon ropes and the clothes clips. You seem to get rid of a marriage that failed.. toilet paper stuck under your shoe .. another metaphor that comes to mind. It follows you around, like a smell everyone else gets, except you. A bubble above your head that points down “failed marriage contender in the room, alert everyone, there is a failed marriage contender in the room.”

Considering , much spoken about Indian norms, expectations have evolved from stay at home and spread legs at command so you can play gumball machine and pop pop pop, three children, one Neanderthal man and patronizing mother in law later,big happy family , no yet !..oops pop pop pop.. there come another three, home sweet home, my prison, my sanctuary. Stay at home. You don’t have to look good, its alright, you can look 50 when you are 30, nobody cares. Man bring bread, lady make yum yum. No wait.. oops .. pop pop pop.. here come the rugrats! Sweat shop here we come.. awww… end of tableau one.. forward to now. Lady wear man trouser, smoke cigarette , drink hot drinks, drive car, study in abroad , experiment with women. now slow mo to wear lady trouser, quit smoking, alcohol ? nooo…. , drive mini van , and make baby… pop pop pop.. work outside and inside… home is where the heart is.

Three essential duties,

-be a successful career woman, it’s the new age.

-be a great mom, clean baby poop and cook three meals.

-stay in shape, “look 20 , when you are 40!” .or you wouldn’t want the nonexistent, unimpressive mysterious penis (anatomy of which you have a vague recollection ( I think it looks like a toe… hmm… no wait.. yes .. a toe!) to suddenly pack his sacs up and leave for the dreaded younger sexually agile woman now would you??...

Should you choose the path a few dared choose , the path on which lie many hurdles, many sniggers and old poppers spillin the nasties , should you choose this path, instant makeover free of charge!.. a brand new neon sign with detachable helmet for travel, a few extra imaginary pounds, and invisible man corpse dragging behind you, that somehow , everyone else sees and slut painted in lemon juice on your forehead, every time you come in contact with heat , its visible. Human contact, lights, street lights, table lamps, lighters. Sun, guaranteed. Warranty, the next millennia.

Having a friend with a failed marriage, you hear the worst of the crap from around you. People shamelessly seek the dirt. They play you so well knowing you aren’t going to go to the ‘leper’ and tell her “you know what Smitha aunty asked me?” its another thing that we all suppose that the other person is the spawn of Nostradamus and they already know what the people have been saying, with a ridiculous question like “you know what ………, you know the moon fell on the cow in my backyard… .., you know, you know , you know .” but yes, Smitha aunty asked if you were sleeping with amits best friend and that’s why you stopped doing it with Amit.” You d see why I d hesitate to ask my already sore friend, who has come to a point where her systems hangs when people ask here he generic “hello, how are things?” can you blame her, the gleam in the old and young alike, hoping she ll tell you something about the bitter split and uncaring if she is dying with cancer. Give me adultery over adulteration any day. Going to the restaurant is a task , when you meet the obscure family friend you last met when life was simpler. The jolly hello! How are things result in system overload… processing…Output is ott expressions coupled with euphoric statements that she doesn’t really recall later. The walk of shame back to your table. The family spends the whole evening with sidelong glances, huddled heads and hushed whispers. Don’t you think about ordering that second round of drinks! Aunty sympathy s statements about “he was a bad man, bad bad man.” Will be retracted and new statement, “no wonder it dint work, she is an alcoholic, everyday she roams around town , drinking.” Drafted, unedited and printed, no questions asked, no answers given (you obviously don’t know all this is happening).

God bless your soul if you get married to someone you already knew, ‘love marriage’, that scoop is just fresh meat to the people on the waiting list for ‘our lady of sorrow’s home for the aged.’ The riot that the flesh hangers will have, lordy lordy lord. “ this is what happens , this is what happens when you give children what they want, love marriage, you saw what happened to that one?.. You saw?... ahh… this is what happens.”

I pray for the hearts of those women , who get married to not only people they were in love with, but should the marriage end during a time all your other comrades are heading to the promised land of coupledom. a line from much abused hotel California come s to mind, ‘you can check out anytime you like , but you can never leave.’ The sheer pain, of being around, the giggling, naïve, suddenly anorexic classmate and her new beau, who is by the way, already letching at women on the dance floor.

You , who is wise, have to sit through the heat on speed, and try not to say anything close to the real world scene of marriage, god forbid you should steal the bride-to-be’s thunder. Don’t even think of dancing with the lecherous groom to be. Gal pals, try and tell you not to overdress, please be understated. Don’t wear anything to fancy. Only us women guard top secret information that the biggest bitches are your closest friends. Maintain three rules do not under any circumstance digress, the dress dowdy, one arms distance, don’t get coyote ugly drunk and you will be on the receiving end of a lot of sisterly love, and girls night outs. You toe the line, no more phone calls; finger the rules, no more female friends. Women who are separated , divorced have a disease, symptoms being,

a) social deteriorating number of girl friends

b) Increasing number of male friends, especially the ones who were mackin on you in school and before you met the bastard ingrate you married.

People breaking up, move on to lead their lives. In search of fulfillment , in search of elusive soul mate. The relationship that won’t end in the drama that continues, this finding is also bound by the ‘right’ time for yourself. This for me translates, into , from time of break up, until all information of ex happy couple and following break up ,has reached whomsoever it may concern and more to whomsoever it may not but make it their life s mission to follow the story. So until, the information has reached all ears, and people have had the time to critically analyze, dissect and beat to pulp for information from all possible and impossible angles. Until such time, the people who provide these vicarious pleasures shall not get into another relationship that is happy or fulfilling. But if they should get into something to provide viewers all, the extra dirt that greases their pathetic mundane lives until bedtime, such gossip is welcome. But no finding the person you want to ‘settle down’ with. No way Pranay (Indian counterpart for Hosez). We demand our free entertainments worth.

Being pro tolerant-humans, I cannot see why other wise insane humans, suddenly claim sanity when it come s to marriage and the seven levels of hell to it. the otherwise beer mug happy, sexually liberated, bed hopping woman/ man is excited when it comes to a divorcee, reactions being on opposite ends of the spectrum of response.

While one avoids the big bad divorcee like a pig in time of swine flu and the other tries his hardest to get her horizontal or vertical if he is capable of it. I choke with pride at the woman who packed her bag and walked out on a union that dint feel right. She did not stay at a house that was decorated, a car ready for her. She picked herself up dusted the atta of her apron and walked out. A woman who chooses to stay, for the sake of a ‘marriage’, sorry to tell you, you don’t have my respect. If you can get out, move on and shine without hanging on a mans assistant manager post, if you can see there is no nobility in staying in a relationship whose call of the day is putting on a front for everyone that you are happy, if you are staying because you are scared of what people will say , what your parents will feel , you are not noble. You are scared, you are coward.

There is strength, in baring all, and covering nothing. Not hiding your shame behind a chain around your neck has more value in money than your farce of a relationship. To all women who took that step, that moment they decided no more thank you. Thank you for not tolerating, do not tolerate. Expect, we are taught not to expect anything from people, but as a woman, you are expected to live by these expectations. Live life following rules of expectations. Learn that you have a right to expect, above and beyond what you think you deserve. You have a future with the whole walking into the sunset, maybe on a beautiful chestnut mare ,with a hottie on a black stallion, . Better yet, you can ride that black stallion yourself into the sunrise, after the darkest longest nights you’ve endured.

Chinese food, three new books.. and a bad day

2009-02-19T00:28:00.000-08:00

the day I saw no people… I started out my morning.. At noon.. waking up at intermittent times to find Ricky… first , folding sheets,,, second swabbing my floor.. ( no this is not some kinky sex thing.. ugh) and the third time.. Making coffee.. and finally the fourth time.. telling me to get up and lock the door because he was leaving. Now wait… this Ricky is not a house boy ( why do they call them that , we never say house girl?... sexism.. hmph).. not my boyfriend.. not even a pity hook up.. now I say pity hook up .. a pity hook up is someone you hook up with , because you feel emotions of shame and pity at how alone you are, so basically this boy ricky was just a friend who came over to my place the previous night to keep me company. Yeah, it isn’t as fun as it sound (?) ….

We sat through reports on BJP’s sad attempt at rekindling peoples faith in the system.. Locking the gutless men who make up the fascist moral brigade of empty scrotums… and deploying, more of such men with empty scrotums. I got a little carried away there. Yes so we sat silently through this, though before this, I left Ricky alone to hit the gym.. In hope of meeting this delicious boy I have been making crazy eyes at for about three months,he on the other hand has taken his buns of steel and gone MIA. Leaving me looking at old men gasping for breath and life on the treadmill. But later, after getting asked by the instructer if I would like to try their spin class, a new fangled thing where they make you sit on a bike sent by satan, in a dark room with an instructer screaming at you to pedal faster.. they only called us chubby ones to try this spin your way to the depths of hell, I called ricky all the way to the hypermarket, that’s below my gym to pick up groceries I would later cook for him and another.. hmm.. Acquaintance who loaned me “a sum of money”.. cuz I spent all … that’s about ‘ a larger than the afore mentioned sum of money’ in less than a month.. we are talking about 14 days.. who am I kidding a week.

So this acquaintance, is one of many friends I make on the bus to or from home.. I study eight hours away from where I stay. This means I usually travel back and forth when the mother or the threat of depression beckons. I usually end up making friends, good looking male friends, but now you have to understand its not as if we are on a train, therefore this means there is usually a lot of straining and cramping muscles at the end of a fruitful conversation until the swapping of the numbers happen.

Now this delightful person, dint really speak English too well, you see I am only comfortable with one language, and that’s English , anything else and yes there is nothing else. I am not proud of this , but I have come to take it In my stride by blaming my parents , for thinking it a wise decision to talk to us ( there is a younger brother) in nothing but English , so you see, it is extremely uncomfortable to even imagine talking to my parents in my “mother tongue”… basically the conversation between me and the generous guy from the bus consists of him asking me to accompany him to movies and dinners and me politely declining. Oh another thing he does, forces me to drink beer. Lets just say I m not a beer person, no … I can’t stand it. I in fact barf a lil even sniffing it. So the evening I was talking about, Ricky , guy from bus and me.. Sounds of sheer discomfort, occasional clearing of throat.. breathing and irrelevant comment about what’s going on in the news.. Louder than necessary laughter at things that are not even worth the inside laugh that happens when I watch sitcoms. I never laugh out loud… I find some of it extremely funny .. but never laugh out loud. The bugger finally left and it was still quiet , ricky slept on the floor , I sat on the comp.. ah just like a couple in a long term relationship. Oh we did watch American idol.. I was obviously rooting for our boy anoop to make it into the top 36.. and then we did laugh really hard at that stupid female canine Tatiana del toro.. the crazy one with the insane insistent giggling…

forward to 12 o clock.. home alone , my room is sparkling I barely wake up to message everyone a happy valentines day , to be reminded of how I hate these stupid days.. enough and more has been said about how we need one day and why not celebrate love all the days.. blah blah.. the truth is people don’t have the damned time… or the money. and you know what?... it is fun to look forward to day you can get treated to a beautiful dinner, gifts and all of it. When you know its too hard the rest of the time to always have that high people get on days like birthdays, anniversaries and feb the fourteenth.. and now that we have the Sene s running around beating people up .. Valentines day has become more adventurous.. even forbidden.. come on.. the forbidden stuff is always the hottest .. you have to agree.. lets raise this warm two days old thumbs up to the moral brigade for making valentines day an even bigger deal, with battalions.. and curfew.. and the whole “wrong” side to it.

After I did that .. I watched all these ripped sitcoms.. I took from a cousin.. who isn’t my cousin.. its just easier to say than actually explain the relationship. By the way a little factoid, there is no such thing as cousin brother and cousin sister , its just a cousin.

My ex.. spankin guy.. an absolute gem of a guy tells me .. “hey babe , are you home I m coming over.. “ well obviously I say no.. no I dint I said I was at home.. and I even dressed up. But he dint show up, I got myself out of the house and to a certain bookstore with a great sale, at least that’s what the flyers claimed, I still think I got ripped, I bought myself a coupla of books, all the while looking with an obvious look of disgust at the hordes of couples and families, pissing me off with their uninhibited laughter, and kids shrieking. I was officially the only single person. These horrible people actually made me feel ashamed to be single. to top it off I see these two hot guys walk in just while I was getting my pity prize billed , and one of them smiled at me, I obviously smiled back.. full on .. full power , come to mama smile. And oh yes… the other hot boy calls out to him “hey sweetie, they ve got that book you wanted on sale.”.. I wanted to die!... the horror!...i should have known.. I literally have not met a random stranger who gives someone the come hither look. Is that even what its called now?.... gosh..

I just billed my ass off.. was about to leave when the gooey chocolate brownies called out to me, from the bistro in the bookstore. I threw caution to the winds and said to hell with these judgmental new age nuclear families with their ‘hum do hamare do’ philosophy and their ‘lets buy our bratty kids whatever they want so we can sleep better at night with the guilt of spending so much time at work, issues, living in denial!.. That’s all I can say.

So I walked over , ordered the most bad caloried up drink in the house, with a gooey chocolate brownie to go, but it wasn’t to go . he got it on a plate .. I sat there surrounded by these people with their delusions of happiness and ate my brownie alone. The only consolation, nobody even noticed. I got out of there , and walked the way back crossing a few places that looked like saint valentine puked all over it. And headed to my single room with attached bath. Rent includes electricity and internet charges. I ordered Chinese food, and spoke to my mom. And got back to my sitcoms.

the cherry , my ex comes online to tell me he had this wonderful evening planned out , but because I acted like a piss off I dint deserve it, hence he dint come. I just said goodnight. And sat and decided, none of this has to be hard. In fact the day was splendid. Even if I don’t have the romance and the gifts.. I do have porn especially made for women , downloading (at a few kb’s per second, this is as close romance is , as for now) and I got myself some pretty amazing literature that I will read at a future time. I just don’t know when.

black bird , red tape, yellow star

2008-11-03T04:02:00.000-08:00

if i was yellow and you were green,
would i be mellow and you wed doreen ?

if i was pink and you were maroon,
would i wear mink and you sport a frown ?

if i was blue and you were red ,
would i be true and you play dead?

chastity

2008-11-03T03:48:00.000-08:00

dead in bed,
it was said.
21 year old,south asian origin female.
no signs of struggle ,too young not senile.
signs of recent sexual activity
"tch tch girls in the big city"
neat orderly room, asthama medication,
"doors and windows closed, suffocation?"
ink stains on her hands, art on the walls.
"i found a phone,21 missed calls."
picture frame ,face down, four on a beach.
junk food everywhere, except this can of peach.
"sex and starsigns,girls these days?
books all over the place , this one says 'god and his ways'."

angry post on mainstream...

2008-07-05T03:27:00.000-07:00

my perspective

am new here ... i thought they d be discussions about relevant counter cultures or underground cultures... instead of mainstream bashing.. why don't you be happy you are not part of the mainstream, that the millions are hypnotized into.. in a way everyone in this community too forms a stream.... and from one perspective.. we are mainstream as well.. just because you hate Ekta Kapur or pop music that does not make you unique of different... mainstream is not hating a genre of music.. thats just stupidity.. its equal to racism and prejudice.. it only means you don't want to take the time out and actually listen to the music because you have comfortably done away with the entire genre of pop.. which is pathetic..

and please don't tell me none of you conform.. the guys in India.. the moment you ll heard of lp everyone started donning t shirts with the band and got piercings and yelling 'look at me i like rock'... wearing your pants where pants are not supposed to be worn... and girls.. come on...... skinny jeans , straightened hair and those big bags... fuck.. everyone looks like a bunch of clones...

mainstream is an entire topic... instead of discussing why you hate the movies, and fashion ( which is what i just did) .... bring up a discussion on counter culture or off beat movies you would suggest..

anyhow peace to everyone... and you know what .. its ok to go to the other side once in a while.. it just helps you feel better about yourself, the soothing thought that you have not been brainwashed into watching crap or living a cloned life.

penned in prayer, an attempt to rhyme :)

2008-06-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

pages calling out to mark forever,
my life's every moment penned in prayer.

hoping to change, what by decision i cant,
these curses to fate i forever chant.

she should die,so should he,
all the while the storm is within me

i am alone,yet loved and cherished,
consumed with the desire to be perished.

i long for responses to my actions,
i call out in vain ,i call out in vain still no reactions.

my god, my family, my lover, my friends you have forgotten,
i am gone , i am yesterday, i am memory because i am forsaken.

not today

2008-06-23T01:01:00.000-07:00

each drop trickling away becoming cold and leaving behind a salty stickiness
the hum of the fan soothing after rushing about settling mundane inanimate objects
while the animate remain in chaos

a sudden flash of giving in,
closing my eyes and waiting for the cliched darkness,
i close my eyes and think, they will come and look around at the neatly ordered room
and then eyes fall on me,to think , how awkward the position of death is.
how out of place i look.

but my face would be peaceful, my eyes shut, my back lax.
legs splayed out in odd angles.
as an afterthought i adjust my feet and make them more neat, looking in proportion to the room.

if only death like sleep were a choice.
i am feeling deathly, i think i ll go to my grave.
so much would be different,
i'd have gone a long time ago.

but then all my sweat dried away, i still feel moist inside my clothes.
i open my eyes and think.
not today, not today
maybe tomorrow

Defined by others

2008-06-20T05:45:00.000-07:00

I define myself by people,
what they like, I like.
What they hate, I hate.
Reminded of the alternating scrambled and bulls eye.
They be angry ,i be angry.

I define myself by sun signs.
I want so badly to fall under the category or out of all,I will change me,

I am chameleon.
I am nobody.

I detest this feeling of being nobody.
I want to be so much like other people,
I study other people, so I can be different.
So I can listen to music nobody else does,
so I can speak a language few others speak.

My identity is in what others expect of me.

It is not solid, it is sordid.
It is not ideal, it is illusion

my soul searches for a way to be different,
to be unique by being her, by being him and by being gray.
It sickens me yet its the truth, and they say the truth shall set you free.

I am not eloquent, I am no elusive beauty, I am envious of their pride, their happiness, their contentment.

I search in rock, in Vedas, in god, in Satan,in books nobody reads.
I become the movie, I become the song, I become her.
I am adaptable, I am formless, I am shadow.

I hunger handicap for pity,
I yearn happiness for envy
I ache halo for sainthood
I pine sainthood for salvation
I hurt salvation for enlightenment

I am not strong, I am sick
I am not me, I am you.

Prayer for you

2008-06-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

I want you to know , I love you.
You don't know me, but this is my prayer for you.

I want to pray that when you were little nobody took you to a secluded place and touched you.
I pray nobody encroached your little body and impregnated sin into your soul.

I pray you were never told by your life giver she wished you dead.
I pray your innocent heart was not stamped on and spit at.

I pray you never went to a place of hate.
I pray nobody blamed you for deeds you never did.

I pray you never tried to end it all so many times, swallowing pills that latter poisoned your small body
I pray you always had friends.

I pray nobody told you you were ugly so many times,that you believed it and still do.

I pray you got good grades , and no teachers hated you.
I pray you were never jealous of others.

I pray you never gave your heart so easily.

I pray you were never cheated on.
I pray you never cheated.

I pray you were not ashamed your body.
I pray you never despised yourself.

I pray you never gave up on god.
I pray you never waited for Elysium.

What i pray the most for ,
is you never have to write a prayer for me.

finding ourselves

2008-06-19T00:36:00.000-07:00

i roam the places in my head waiting to find a calm,
i roam these streets in my head waiting to find my self.
i lay here staring blank into the never ending desperate beyond,
hoping to make sense of it all,
is what you live by a lie?
is what you live by a dream,
when i close my eyes i see these truths unfolding ,
like a bleeding wound i caused,
the guilt is the same ,
the shame is the same.
the gut feeling that injustice is mine, yours, ours.
we swim in circles in our sticky untruths,
not realizing the waters getting murky.
the harder you move, the harder it is to see the spring in the the middle of the sludge,
to get to the purity, we must lay still,
and all will come to us and to us all.

to start with a rainy afternoon

2008-06-18T23:25:00.000-07:00

I am not that girl

I am the shadow...
the one you walk by, and not notice
I am her, everybody, everything.
So mundane , its funny.
You make a promise to meet, and I wait. Not forget.
You call , I pick up in two rings.
I am that. I am wall.

That girl, you saw cry, but it dint matter.
She sits in the corner , and watches your reflection in the glass.
The female whose femininity is a nonentity.
Nothing is her middle name.
I am that, I am the table.

I say something profound, imagine it would change perception.
It dint, it fell away like dust in a storm.
She seeks your glance, you look, I look away.
She has beautiful friends.
She knows you better than you know yourself.
I am happy to be acknowledged.
I am that, I am ceiling.

That girl, you see walk with her head down,but it dint matter.
She stares at the walls, her attention is on you.
The female whose breasts dint make you look.
Nothing is her middle name.
I am that, I am wallpaper.

I say something intelligent,imagine it would stick.
It dint,it slipped away like I used old gum.
She seeks you attention,you give it, I want more.
She has exemplar parents.
She knows your birthday.
I lie to myself.
I am that, I am the dim lights.

That girl, you see in pain, but it dint matter.
She looks at her hands, she is searching her soul.
The female you dint know existed.
Nothing is her middle name.
I am that, I am nothing.

I am that girl, who dies everyday.
I am that girl, who cries everyday.
I am that girl, who dies everyday.
I am not that girl.