Influx and Redux

On a day spent watching old Telugu movies, I am feeling alternately wistful and wasteful. Thinking about the relationships which are the way they are and are not, brooding about the people who are around and who aren’t, longing for things which have happened and have not, wishing for the future which may or may not happen.

I sit alone unreachable by those around me, I feel alone unmoved by those who can reach me and I dream alone unmindful of those who are a part of those dreams. My thoughts are in a flux- angry, agitated and annoyed: at everything which dares to become involved and anything which dares to be too distant.

Unable to want any of those who are around and wanting those who will never ever be around again, my distant daze is confused by its own terror and the terrifying tenacity of its thoughts. I am tired of waging the same battles over and over again with the expected variations resulting in the expected results.

I am desperate for calm but will shatter it once it comes closer. I want to run away far and wide but feel shackled by the air that surrounds me. I want to make true all that my heart wants by am engulfed by a wave of despair which sinks me each time I move. Desire and despair, Querulous quiet and lost loves, all battle silently together.

A single tear makes its way through silent sorrow, a solitary flame stutters in abject neglect and a sole wish is lost in the maze of confusion. Life, seems at once cheerless, at second glance it appears unrelenting, refusing to let me go, drowning me with its lifelessness, choking me with its dejection.

To the glorious grief lording over and refusing to let go,

To sinking deeper into darkness and not caring to try,

To how things were and how they promise not to be.