Smothering Silence

Scents attached to seasons that lead your senses to some beautiful places. Sometimes turbulent too that stir every ounce of your strength, but sometimes so safe and warm that the love of it glistens at the brim of your eyes. October to me is like an old lover in that regard. The scent of an average October day is something I'd always want to be lost in. To be lost in that smell is similar to be found by someone who knows solitude. It gives me vague memories. There are some untouched ones, some tangled ones like stubborn locks of hair. But the smell of it, lets me run my hand through them.  There's some rush as you remember it, sweet, stomach turning rush. You remember it like you remember your first kiss . There's yearning, a strong pull and a deep yearning to know it more. To hold on to every bit of it as much as you can, because within seconds it fades, but you like it, how you love it. You won't give up on it. Because it's like the first time you were aware ...

Sometimes when I'm too exhausted of sliding into seasons Sometimes when the summers are weary and tired Sometimes when there is a longing for a smell, a colour  I wonder what those winters were like. Like a brief suitcase of untouched memories Like an old album hidden under my mattress Like a concealed note from the favourite lover  There hides a season in this unmeasured greatness. Was it my mother roasting popcorns in butter? Was it the ritual of lying under the sun with my sibling? Was it my father who'd make his way to home sooner? A thread woven, cherished in a memory that's constantly tingling. And when I can't fathom the pangs of longings inside my chest When I can't fathom this usual music standing uptight When I can't fathom the fear that's simmering from the cracks I wonder what those winters were like.

To be back in the element 

This window didn't know your life, But knew your demise very well. And if only you had known how unforgiving and haunting its indulgence in your departure would turn out to be, I know, you wouldn't have ever gone. But, did you really want to go? Or, Did you really know you were going? Where did you go, exactly? And, did you really go eventually? I am sorry, but am still at this window or say I am carrying it with me, all the time, wherever I go because neither am I able to find the answers to all these questions nor my peace of mind. But unfortunately, at times when I let my mind drift a bit, it always finds you and you're silent, always."

Everyday I open these eyes, a tiring process trying to trace a reason and to sustain my will to do so, I fill my nostrils and mind with the aroma of coffeebeans they try to fool my head and heart into the idea that there is so much with the day and they somehow agree too. the body,which undenyingly desires to feel the comfort of the mattress now has to coldly embrace the drops of the shower and sometimes to mitigate the coldness in the idea, I listen to a bunch of songs that actually help. I carry the weight of the expectations of sanity over my body,I used to think about it twice though but I don't anymore and a bunch of people ,sitting together on the same table,carrying each other's emotional baggage when they don't even want to, might shoot a comment or two ,with their words or eyes on this sanity but now they're dodged. Munching together and after having heard a couple of whispers,I leave. Reluctance tries to drag me back,but I kill it. I let myself barg...

I'm tired and restless I want to sleep again, And feel what it felt when I nestled against your chest and tied myself to you. I want the final address But home is broken and buried in different cities And there is no way I can get the pieces back together. The roads are tangling themselves The lights are dimming and flickering And I'm cold and ghastly. I want to dig my home out and fix the skyline Before I dig my own grave And before it's actually the time to move on I want to sleep again.