My Life...

Is it me...

I dont understand this...
It is as if everything i planned out to do is going awry..is breaking down right in front of me.
And i am helpless. My hands feel numb.
No matter how hard I try...how bad i want something, things dont go as i i think they will.
Is it me or is there something wrong with what i want.
Perhaps it is a bit of both, as it always is.
When i fall to reminescing, i remember the simpler times, when there were simpler goals, simpler roads to self satisfaction.
How i wish those times come back....

But as they say, growing up comes at a cost.

Wish i was in a life where everything was free...or at least had some discounts to it.
where evrything wasnt as costly as things seem to be in this life.

River of Life

I feel let down,
remember the past,
the light flickers,
everything's brown,
i know i've finished last.

But in my heart
i have you,
your love keeps me,
from fallin apart.

Could i run away,
Hide in an island
far away,
be with you night and day,
sing our days away,
never come back this way,
Could i turn back time,
write that one correct line,
but i know,
this moment is gonna go,
it hurts me so,
so, lets get on the boat,
and down the river of life,
we row,
and row...

the room's a mess,
and my mind too,
what r u thinkin,
i try and guess,
but i've finished last, its true.

i try and hide my tears,
the pain sticks inside,
but as the mist clears,
i know that
the grass is always greener
on the other side.

So,
Could i run away,
Hide in an island,
far away,
be with you night and day,
sing our days away,
never come back this way,
could i turn back time,
write that one correct line,
but i know,
this moment is gonna go,
it hurts me so,
so, lets get on the boat,
and down the river of life,
we row,
and row...

Love you

i hear you,
saying your sorry,
cant you see the wounds,
they are hurting me.
You think those words,
are gonna heal,
My cries you've never heard,
my pain, i'm never gonna reveal.

You say u dont understand,
you doubt my intentions,
your trust in me, like a quicksand,
in your love, my heart burns.


Those eyes can never see my love,
Those hands can never feel my touch,
I'm gonna pick myself up,
Cuz the wounds dont matter much,
Cuz i love you,
will love you,
always,
and forever...


Heard your harsh voice,
tried to cheer you,
Am not that wise
But i am all true.
Feel i'm slippin down a hole,
Cant see where it ends,
I'm not gonna fall,
My broken heart will mend.

WIND CRIES MARY

“After all the jacks are in their boxes

And the clowns have all gone to bed

You can hear happiness staggering on down street

Footprints dressed in red

And the wind whispers MARY”

John Mayer

Room for Squares

Atlanta, 2001.

It was cold. Dead cold. The sky was clear. Feather shaped clouds draped the moon, shining in all its glory. It all seemed so simulated, so artificial. It was as if someone had covered the world with a grey-black coloured cloak and had pushed it into a freezer. The ground everywhere was covered with a thick layer of snow. Here and there tracks had been cut out by carriages and carts carrying people and goods, headed for the markets in the city. But now, a deathly silence had descended on the place. I balanced myself on the window sill and looked in. There she was, dressing up for dinner.

Dresses were lying on the bed. I could see her, bending over them, trying to decide which one to wear. Her wet hair stuck to her shoulders, the water glistening on her smooth skin. She removed the plastic covering one of the dresses and peered at it closely. A faint grin appeared on her soft, pink lips and her eyes blinked in approval. She looked out of the window, the one opposite of the window on which I was perched. The snow covered peaks, resplendent in the softly glowing horizon, gleamed in the blue moonlight as she walked towards the window, probably planning to open it. Her hands held back. She walked back, head bowed and sighing. A call rang out from below. It was her mother. The guests had entered the main gate.

The Stangertons never wanted their daughter to be married to Billy Beresford, son of Lord Beresford, Earl of Nottinghamshire. It was the Earl who had insisted on having dinner with Marcus Stangerton and his family. Mary was their only child and they had carefully planned her future, with a devilish determination and sense of purpose. From the day she had entered Gloria Foundation, the best girl’s school in east London to the day she had graduated from Liverpool, Marcus Stangerton had carefully plotted each and every point of the graph of her future life. Marcus knew what it was to be one of them, the Stangertons. So he had protected Mary, right from the time she had been born. Now, as he stood at the door, dressed in the finest fabric ever to be fashioned in the form of a suit, he felt happy. It is quite rarely that one has an Earl over for dinner.

The 1936 Ford Pantheon cruised to a halt in front of the butler, waiting to receive the Earl and his family. The Earl got out, followed by his wife and Billy. He grinned from ear to ear as the two elderly men shook hands following which Mr. Stangerton led them inside. The butler followed close at heel, taking orders from Mr. Stangerton as he led the guests to the drawing room. Mrs. Stangerton was waiting there, all dressed up for the big occasion.

“It is a lovely house Marcus! The windows are just so big and beautiful!” exclaimed Mrs. Beresford.

“You are most kind madam. Its nothing compared to your castle. I believe the castle has been featured again in The Daily Tribune….” broke off Marcus Stangerton. His eyes were on Mary. She had come down from her room. She was looking so beautiful in that black dress, observed Marcus. How quickly she had grown, he thought. I flew down to the window which gave me a better view of Mary. I did not want to lose sight of her.

The guests sat down. Billy had sat down next to Mary. The Earl and Marcus were chatting away at one corner; the wives had made themselves comfortable in front of the hearth, sipping wine as they talked of fashion and films. Billy looked at Mary. She appeared to be grinning faintly.

“So, I heard you sing?” said Billy.

“I do. In fact I can speak too” giggled Mary.

“Oh…well….do you read much? I mean….novels. Poems are...” he stopped. He looked at Mary. She had a strange look in her eyes. I leaned in, to catch a better glimpse of the two.

“Mary, are you alright? You look pale…” said Billy. He didn’t know what to do. Mary had that far-away look in her eyes. She had, all of a sudden, stopped giggling. She then turned to look at him.

“Do you really want to marry me?” she asked. Her voice was heavy. Her hands were tense. Something was happening to her, Billy seemed to think. I chuckled, a muffled sound that died away quickly.

“I do. That’s why I am here, isn’t it?” uttered Billy. Poor guy, I thought. I climbed down the window and flew to the bedroom upstairs. It was time, I perceived. I opened the door to the bedroom slowly and peeped out.

She had stood up, looking at him, smiling. She took him by the hand and led him upstairs. She was so beautiful, it was hard to resist. Billy walked up the stairs, as if in a trance.

“Where are we going?” asked Billy.

“The balcony, I need to talk to you Billy…” said Mary. She had definitely decided it was time. She walked past the bedroom door towards the balcony. She was in a hurry, I could detect.

“Mary, is something wrong? You seem so tense….” Billy couldn’t complete the sentence. Mary had turned away from him. He heard her crying.

“Mary, please tell me. Is something…”this time the sentence was even shorter. He moved closer to Mary, to console her. She had buried her face in her hands and was crying.

Then Mary turned around, her canines glinting in the moonlight. Without a sound she dug her teeth deep into Billy’s throat. Blood squirted out, dropping to Billy’s feet, turning his shirt and feet red. She clung on, her nails digging deep into his chest. In a few moments, she let go of him. Billy Beresford dropped to the ground, his body falling with a dull, sick thud.

As she wiped the blood clean from her face and lips, I flew down. She no longer needed to stay with her parents. I had found a home, a nice quaint little cottage in Surrey. She looked at me and smiled. There were tears in her eyes. I took her in my arms. We cried quietly. We were two vampires in love. We had nothing to fear now.

Bloodcurdling screams emanated from the drawing room, downstairs. The Stangertons were having dinner….

[ Vampires have always caught my imagination. This is my version of a vampire story ]