Saturday, July 24, 2010

Utopian Breakfast

The moon dissolves, takes the shape of a river across the still sky, the night wraps itself around you like a burkha, restraining your seamless desires, your fears insist on floating on the half empty glass of wine and the cigarette refuses to rescue you. The lamp watches you stealthily from the next room; the couch is your comfort tonight. The music is a reminder of all things that were once close as well as near to you. You watch distant city lights impale through the tree at your window and you want to hurl yourself at the longing that it shines upon you. An irresolute breeze from the east whirls around a lock of your hair, probably soaked in the breath of someone you know. A half read, wholly realized book about wanderlust lies next to you, bookmarked by one of your feelings, alongside the keys to the door that you sometimes wish you never come back to. And alongside a place in your mind from where you wish you never have to come back from.

A place where everything is alright. Like a store that sells securities in exchange of your mean blues and your demonic reds. Holly Golightly’s Tiffany’s, if you will. A place where you can finally buy some furniture without uncertainty. Where you don’t want to throw your dirty clothes on the floor. Where you want to sneak into the bed with your neighbour, not to fuck, just to sleep. A rainbow’s end, obscure, but worth chasing. Where the sea won’t be mundane because although you can see it, you can’t walk to it. And the skies won’t be cheerfully bright everyday.. some days it will be moodily dark (yet rainless). The people will know your face but know you only at arm’s length. The places of worship are those where you can sit for hours busy in inoccupation. The children are playful but not noisy and the cars are seen only at the promenade. People walk with a mission, talk with a matter and eat with a moan. Where the people and the government are like bittersweet lovers. Where the people know that there is such a lot of world out there to see. Where the people know that they can throw their keys away and never come back if they wished to.

image courtesy - smallpanda

1 comment:

Happy Phantom said...

beautifully written! My favorite parts:

"An irresolute breeze from the east whirls around a lock of your hair, probably soaked in the breath of someone you know. "

"bookmarked by one of your feelings"

"just to sleep"