• veloc1ty_ 57w

    Thank you for helping me with this @iamsleepy

    Inspired by @meru_mukh ��

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    I stay imprisoned at an unearthly place behind no iron bars but the ones created by my own head, a moor where leaves go on to have an affair with the passerby wind without thinking twice about the flowers they bear. When my city loiters into a sleep, I stand reluctant in these fields, observing this indecent infidelity from a mile's distance, accompanied by sad songs, a pack of cigarettes and an old bottle of whiskey that costed me more than my afternoon meal. I lie awake voyeuring beside these dreams that have lost wings as I've shot them down one by one but I keep my distance from these nightmares that've now learned to fly.

    These thoughts arise from a place where thoughts are banned, call them fierce protests of mine for a cause that is anything but noble and where I'm both the protester and the vindictive. I don't mind taking the share of the blame even if I'm unaware of the crimes in question. I like putting on the victory song even before the battle has commenced as I enjoy celebrating the incoming loss more than a victory that wasn't mine. A hundred losses have surely consoled me well into becoming a glad loser, who wears his mistakes as badges and flaunts them like a proud father.

    I reach home late at night, rummaging through the heap load of mess my lady made for missing out on the dinner. She doesn't fail to smell the alcohol from my skin and the cigarette smoke lingering on my lips when I bow down to kiss her. She doesn't find pain inside my hollow bloodshot red eyes but she deduces heavy tinges of forgotten senses lined up perfectly one after another, she's aware that I've gone numb. She helps me lay down on the bed and starts preparing me for the hearing of a news I'm too tired to listen to. She traces the numbness along the entirety of my face, savouring the view of the forthcoming heartbreak and without wasting a moment, rids me of the bond we promised never to break.

    Salt deposits on my cheeks have been narrating the story of my heart that couldn't suffer an ache. But I believe in disposable hearts, and I keep myself stockpiled with them, ready to be taken out and mounted perfectly inside the cavity she left after one heartbreak is done. My brand new nonchalant heart gladdens the mind as it strolls around in search of a new reason, knowing it has to eventually end up in the trash alongside the previously shattered ones.

    Alcohol treats my liver as a punching bag and I treat myself with alcohol every morning, afternoon and night. Cigarette smoke leaves my lungs resembling a crowded graveyard covered with mist, a place where I intend to spend the remaining part of this century, knocking onto the neighboring graves every night, coz I like waking up my neighbors with my neverending tantrums until they agree upon listening to my miseries with mouths that are mute and ears that are buried deep in music, so that I'm the only one who's speaking and listening.

    When the sun creeps up on all of us, my neighbours don't hesitate to choke me till my nerves run empty and my eyes are ridden of the red. Alas! I shed tears, happy ones, for finally breaking out of this manmade hell. This dead silence, they prefer more than my constant blabbering and they take their moments to enjoy it bit by bit before it's time to do the heavy lifting. With no family around, they're the ones who have to do the good deed of preparing me to be thrown inside a coffin, that lies besides the empty grave of my stillborn son.