The beat of the music in the Phuture room kept banging in my ear. The dense atmosphere was getting at me, suffocating my breath. The temperature was rising, wetting every part of my body. Just then, I saw him just standing there, staring at me. I felt so intrigued to go over and hold him in my arms, smell him, and play with his bald head. I wanted to lose myself with him and just pretend its our last night ever here. Just to dance the art of making love and feel him, feeling me.

Should I? Oh maybe not, I might offend this guy. Yeah, probably I will just stay here. Oh no wait, what the fuck am I thinking? I can do whatever I want, man. You know what? You're doing this, get your ass there and do your thing.

So, I did. I looked into his eyes, and told him that he is mine for now. I went over and held him by his neck, one hand on his left shoulder, and moved my hips to the sound of Rihanna's Only Girl in the World. I pulled his hand to grab hold of my hip, synchronising with me. Embracing his aura, I placed my head on his shoulder, feeling every move of his muscles. Gosh....I was in trance with him. Just the remedy I needed.

I Don't Know

So, it was Women's Day. Least of my concerns as half of my focus and attention were on revising my syllabus and grasping as much as possible. And it can come as a sudden shock and out of the circle of common sense when some "concerned" individuals, or as they self proclaim that they are, can find the perfect timing for making a U-turn. Or take a step back, or whatever you may call it, and with a snap of their fingers pretend like nothing ever happened and start afresh. It would seem so subtly promiscuous, when you only come to find the dagger which was once hiding behind the door is now coming right at you, striking you, stab after stab after stab after stab....


Maybe I was too harsh? Maybe I had to accept it and pretend the way it was before? Maybe I should now lick my wounds, don't deny I have not been doing that, ignore the scar, and walk on the coals of fire again? Maybe I should create extra layers of skin and make do with whatever that is left of the walking dead body? Or maybe I should lose my soul and surrender to blows of abuse and tantrums?


Or probably I did the right thing? Probably for once, I acted the way I should have, a very long time ago? Probably, I am tired of licking my wounds and I cannot ignore any scars? Probably, I don't want to fear anymore? Probably, I just don't want to feel pain and grip my teeth to adhere to others needs? Probably, I just want to be with people who respect me for the way I am, and not bloodsuckers? Probably, I had enough of being thrown to the wall and covered with an old bed sheet, ashamed to be shown to the world? Or  probably, I just said what I had to say?


The smoke of Marlboro Black Menthol cools my throat, drying it, making it want more. Feet pounds on the steps of the staircase, "Think! What do you want?" Mind responds, "I don't know" So, I don't know. I just know that I've got another one year, well if I need not refer any papers, and that will be about the same sickening drama I have been encountering. Then it's off to business life and that is when the REAL drama gets into the picture. Till then, suit up and dress to kill!

Choose

Is my tank full? Prolly I need to pee. Wait, I didn't have dinner. Am I hungry? Maybe I need to take a break. My fingers are aching, I feel my body aching and getting heavier. Eminem's Lose Yourself is ringing at the back of my mind. The ghost from the past is haunting again, erupting old regretful, spiteful emotions. Images of chairs thrown against the wall and endless days of tears and sadness to balls of hair being forced out into thin air. Blank sheets of paper lay beside me, with words scribbled all over and a pen left idle on top of the stack. It seems to me like a collection of sheets of contagious disease that I'm trying not to even look at. Because if I do, I will be infected.

Locking myself into this 4 wall chamber, is getting at me now. Not enough of the physical prison I've imposed myself into, invasion of privacy is stealing the bits of consciousness left in me. I dread looking at stationery. I wail at the sight of books. I sob at the thought of studying. I just want to run. Runaway, from beings, lies, back to yesterday, save tonight...I feel the sun creeping out like tik tok, I'm trying to keep you in my head but if not, just keep running from tomorrow as our lips lock...DAMN! SEE? A rhythm for every worry, a song for every problem, a voice of melody embraces the negative thoughts....when it shouldn't!

Munching my way around Kit Kat Chunky, the sweetness of the milky chocolate takes me to this paradise of endless joy and contentment. The sound of the packet opening, intrigues me to want more. I want more of you....more...more....and more. Till the last bite and the milky chocolate that tastes like paradise, dissolves in my mouth, that last excitement, brings me back to earth, to this same rotten 4 wall chamber, finding my way through the contagious disease. Should I avoid it like how I've always been doing, or embrace it to be infected and survive the consequences?