Writer’s Block

There comes a time in your life when you have a million thoughts stacked up in your mind, several things pending, projects in the pipeline, work waiting to be done, words waiting to be said and you amongst all those quintessentially awesome and incredibly messed up things find yourself disconnected. Detached. Its like you want to flow with all the force but everything in the obvious and obscure time and space is holding you back. To me that’s a writer’s block.

Not being able to let go, not being able to let it all out and especially when words fail me.

I found these ‘Dyslexic fragments’ in an abandoned folder in my phone.

Thought I’d share. Just for the sake of words and all that’s beyond them.

*

He and the entire idea of his being are two things I can never wrap my existence around. Will there ever be enough words, expressions, sighs, touches, heartbeats or moments to make him aware of that?

Will there ever be enough of me to contain enough of him?

Fuck it! I don’t need to.

*

Incredibly close, utterly exquisite and unbearably distant.

What?

Your existence.

*

A pang of pain, a rumble in her chest.

His crooked smile that looked more like a smirk.

Shoes. Her broken heels.

The pile of their clothes at the edge of the bed. Broken pieces of glass everywhere on the floor.

Her need to break, completely. His desire to fall for a broken heart.

Will white pants go with this teal V-neck? Dilemmas.

The need of being loved. To love. Unconditionally.

For her to be his. His precious jewel.

Misery and mystery. The despicable games that can be played.

Adrenaline rush. Drugs running in the veins. Choking on the smoke from the cheap cigarrettes.

A death every moment. A death by choice.

The loss within.

*

Barefoot in the moonlight. A trance created by the joyous souls.

A goodbye to last forever.

The story of the night. Every other night.

The curse in the polite conversation.

The fall of the desperate kingdom of love.

Despise.

Demise.

Disappear.

Relive.

*

“Darkness. Too much of it.”

“I have better memories associated with that word, just so you know.”

And she walked out, leaving him with his uninterrupted chain of thoughts.

“You’d be dead before you’d be able to decide what hit you.” He said with an evil grin on his face.

“If dying was that easy and convenient, you’d have taken a million lives and I’d be an immortal.” And I let the sadist inside me feed on the shock and pain in his eyes.

Here we go again…

And here we go again, fighting, yelling, screaming, kissing, loving. Passionately. Completely. Irrevocably.

And here we go again, prolonging the silence.

And here we go again, finding some meaning in the breaking of hearts and falling of sighs.

And here we go again, moving beyond the pain.

And here we go again, rejoicing the union of the souls.

And here we are again, dreaming…