Rush.

Standard

(From the Diary of Nirmita Sarma, my roommate, my skinmate)

No sleep all night, no stars either.

Wake up with a conscience.

Of classes I’ve missed,

That haunt.

But can’t remember either,

What I’ve gained. Loss, only loss.

Winds beat against the closed window glass;

But no time.No time, to watch the morning birds flock

The barren rooftops.

Coming from the land of tea gardens,

No chance, I have, of finding the coldย tea here,

Appealing anyhow.

No time to look into the mirror,

To check if I’m not stunted anymore.

The pile of sheets of literary criticisms,

Not quite ready yet, lies under my couch–

Along with a big box of stale cigarettes.

I’m late. No time for a shower.

I’m late!!! No music now too.

Hire a three wheeled cab,

Since I can’t miss another class.

Hand over the change to the greedy cabbie.

Even gave away my favourite lucky note,

On which someone had once scribbled a handsome ‘33‘…

No time to stand and regret at another one of my losses.

Otherwise I would choke.

Then I dash up the stairs, and crash into the classroom.

More, more humiliation. Perfect! Just Perfect.

Laughing quietly, are you bitches?

Well, I don’t really mind. Or care.

You all have no idea,

What I have to go through,

Everyday.

Every. Freaking. Day.

No friends. No gains.

Losses piling up,

Like elephant dump.

When trying to win back a few friends.

They take me out for fun.

Still no friends for me, no gains for me.

My pocket just leaks out more and more.

Late for the next class.

Hire another three wheeler,

But that’d never be fast enough,

To get me away from those shiny shops.

Assignments. More tests, the pun’s on me.

The hours drag, but it’s still not enough

My hands slog. Dizzy in my head,

I wonder when it’s going to get over.

The final thing.

When I’m going to settle bets with life itself.

When I’ll strangle its throat with my own bare hands…

For now, even the coffee shops have closed.

And I am out of change.

I walk out into the storm,

My music strolling along with me.

As the day closes, or maybe it’s the light,

I’m still where I had started this dawn.

Not one credible to be called friend.

A one who knows me, not my lies.

Not one friend, nothing gained.

Just losses and pains piling up.

But in this hour of rush,

I don’t really have the time,

To think about all of this mess,

Or even begin to forget them as well.

</3

Cyril Cliffette.

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14 thoughts on “Rush.

  1. I love your use of imagery; “morning birds flock/The barren rooftops”, “the land of tea gardens” etc. It’s economical but potent. The artwork at the top is great too, is it your own?

    • Yes, it’s mine. It’s about my day-to-day life, not one day in particular. And yes, I am born of the Assamese soil – Assam, which is world famous for tea, as the first Tea gardens were started out there on the blessed hill slopes. Owing to that I tend to love tea, and also hate it, if it’s not up to the best standards.
      Thanks for stopping by at my blog. ๐Ÿ™‚ Have a great day ahead.

      • I’ve gotten a lot better recently, though.
        I changed schools and my life has taken a turn for the better. Sometimes just leaving what you are used to and going somewhere else allows you to recreate yourself. I was so depressed at my last school, but I’m happier now. Hang tight!!
        Andrea xx

      • exactly the same situation. I left school, when it wasn’t actually over and all my scores were left unsettled. But the new life too is in a state of chaos because I haven’t been able to let go off the past completely yet. I still hope, which is what is making my life harder, when letting go and moving on is sometimes a better option.
        :\

  2. Girl, I know -just- what you mean. Sometimes wish I could just walk around with hidden killing eyes, just shoot anyone that pisses me off. Pshew…gone with the bitches that cluster and giggle and stop and stare when you go by, glaring like your something disgusting. Pshew…gone with the asses that push on the street like they don’t even see you, or worse, cross -way- to the other side of the walk, even out in the street, to avoid you.
    Pshew…gone the jerks in grocery stores that glare at you for using a chair-cart because you’re bigger than they are so obviously your just being lazy and gross. *rolls eyes* Yeah, I wish.

    And the money thing. Yeah to that, too. Broke sucks…but better broke than fixed, huh? Just ask a dog! ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Dutch

    • You spoke the very truth as all this cumulatively brought about this poem. And, mind you, the people who used to be our friends as well, are a reason for this hectic life. Until one day we people were going around having fun, and then the next they pretend to not know us, as if we were strangers. It’s that we’re always in a rush, that doesn’t let us confront them and settle the scores. At least they ought to give us a reason, what our fault was, don’t you think? But the chaos only needs more flesh to infiltrate, like it wouldn’t gobble us whole, given the chance, but still wants to destroy us completely, little by little.

  3. Mrr…sorry about the language in the above. Not the sentiment, mind…just the language. Dutch gets a little…raw, sometimes. ๐Ÿ˜‰

    KC & Co.

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