WOW!

Old familiar friends and posts hitting me in the face!! 
Hello everyone.
I'm still on the blog world but live here now: www.bitterblackjuice.wordpress.com

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 Black.
A clock ticks, precariously.

A foot tap taps on the metal footrest of his desk.

His left hand reaches to his tight.

Scratch.

The seconds hand on his wristwatch spins.

He breaks his knuckles, one finger at a time.

In his right hand is a bright yellow pencil

digging hard into the wooden table top.

He starts to tear the edges of his sheet.

And lift dirt ( Read more... )

I had nothing to give you.

I was stripped of identity. Of who I really was.

I stood here, knowing what had become, what had changed and what could have become. 
Strength is how I lived each day with myself.  

 I am home. 
my pajamas and razorbacks will be washed. 
my puppy dog will be fed.
my hair won't need attention. 
and my wallet hidden.

My bed's been slept in.
my bathroom mirror's misty.
I see my mother everyday.
I see my mother everyday.  

From the deepest corners of pain comes creativity.
From the hungriest edges of humanity comes love.
From the dirtiest depths of sarcasm comes lonliness.

For you will never learn what it is like to be at the other end of the lollypop.

The two bikes stop as the whir of their engines die. It's passengers disembark after the riders kick the bike stands with their left heels and tilt their vehicles to strike a pose. One of the riders is me and behind me sits a round man sporting a black T-shirt with army printed pants. The other bike that is parked in front of mine has as its rider ( Read more... )

Spread out before me is a deserted rooftop, brown-orange dust layered on it like icing. I sit on a pair of steps that connect the main terrace to a tiny one that overlooks the portico, facing the narrow street below, unoccupied, lonely, like the house under my feet. The street flows like a river from the up-road on the right and into the space in ( Read more... )

The big black rims of the station clock gleams in the morning light, the thick strokes of its hand pointing precariously at 6.15. A bright yellow railway board read Udupi. A loud beep piercing the morning sleepiness, sweeping through the few people huddled at its platform - past a family of ten huddled around cloth bags and plastic tea cups, past ( Read more... )

The clock says three.

The silence around me coincides with the one in my head. It is an intense kind of silence. The kind that engulfs you while searching for inspiration, like calm before a storm. Save for the tick-ticking of my keyboard keys and my incessant breathe-in-breathe-out, noise is scarce, almost deserting.

The street outside though, ( Read more... )