Random Thought – Day One

I open my eyes and wake up to another day of an overcast sky and rain. The rain has not stopped for as long as I can remember. I sit on the steps, worn now by the water, to an almost slick smoothness. I face the city sitting here all by itself. The trees and the rich dense underbrush give of a steamy earthly tropical scent. The remains of a temple stand behind me, its purpose almost forgotten now by people. I am an outcast, even more so now; those who have taken refuge in the archeological antiquity behind me reject me. They see me as too different. I sit here my clothes have become we and damp even though I wear a waterproof cloak. My boots that I stole of a dead body of an innocent are damp and the leather has gone soft. The soles have a few miles more of life in them. I reach into my pocket and take out a pack of cigarettes, a precious commodity, and light one with a match. I take a long first drag and savor its flavor as it fills my mouth and nose with its almost bitter taste; I let the match burn till the end warming up my hand for all it matters. They will become cold again. I will keep sitting here forever staring at the city for some sort of sign. The city has not really changes since I took this step as my home. The days have lost meaning to me. What separates today with tomorrow is sleep. Everyone’s vocabulary is reduced to today, tomorrow and yesterday. So has mine, no use to think beyond these terms. The buildings lie low, compared to the scattered spires and minarets extend from between the flat and squat buildings where the common live. They seem strangely out of place, as if put there after the city was built and its architects wanted them to stand out with deliberate purpose, with a design almost alien. But strange things have been cropping up all over the place; strange people walk the streets in the night and days that merge together without any definable twilight. There is only the twilight and complete darkness. The streets are covered with mist, formed by the water splashing off the cobble stone roads and streets. Strange birds fly near the top of the monolithic towers, their eerie calls echo through out the commons’ existence. Sometimes they swoop down and disturb the lives of people.

I take another drag of the stale and damp cigarette, and inhale deeply, I hold the smoke in and watch it rise up lazily from the tip of my cigarette, twisting and turning slowly until it dissolves in the air. I feel my heart starting to race and remember to breathe again. I let out the smoke and feel it pass through my out through my nose and my lips. I rest my elbows on the step behind me and stare at the clouds that have always been there. It seems that the sky cries a lot, maybe it is sad, and maybe it cries out of joy.

I sit here and contemplate. I let my mind be mesmerized by the rolling and continuous shades of gray that never reach a lighter shade. It seems like the surface of a large river, its sensuous motions that mesmerize and seduce the lame watcher into jumping into its undulations. I was almost caught once by its seduction. I have seen people go insane after being addicted to its sensations.

I see the drops falling in slow motion; I can count them now.

Finally I have reached a the stage where I have been enslaved by the city. It has become my home now, has been for a long time. The city is just there, reaching out as far as the eye can see, and then a wall blocks the view. It is a high wall, seems to reach the sky and stand there in its monolithic monotonous arrogance, always challenging someone to try and breach its guard.

I know a way out. I came through it one day; I can almost remember the event. It is always easier to break out and break in, in this case the in and out have switched their definitions.

I sigh and take another fatal drag, inhaling deeply the cancerous fumes. Smoking can’t kill me anymore, if it could it would have a long time ago.

There is a curfew on and the troopers almost never come to this hill. They can’t be bothered with the retched and miserable people who share this hill. Once I came across a sign saying that this place was a park. I guess it was a time when the times were better.

I can see a ragged dog limping across a street, its bones showing out of malnutrition; even so it doesn’t have much longer to live. I can see the trap its walking into from here. “Just a little more to the left and there just a little more” I encourage it to fall for it. It finally does.

The low-lives have caught their dinner … or breakfast.

Tonight there will be a fight and a feast, like there always is. I have kept myself away from such by sticking to the fruit from the trees that grow around me. I sleep here away from the people and the crowds.
It is just self-preservation; the instinct to survive.
The shadow of the temple weighs heavy on my back. I know there are no shadows as such, but its presence bothers me sometimes. There is something about it that is not right, something that is just too familiar for comfort. I will have to go see it again sometime. Not today, I just want to see what happens today. There is energy in the air, a kind of expectation that fills the air with excitement; whether it is ominous or otherwise. For me it promises to be an exciting day, well for someone in my position anything out of the norm has to be exciting, something to look forward to, even death has developed a certain attraction.

There is a fire somewhere in the city not far from where I am, I can smell the smoke off burning wood and super heated rocks, the smell of metal glowing red and almost flowing.

For a while I sit here and wonder where the fire might be; then I spot the column of smoke far within the city. I wonder why I can smell it this far; this thought is immediately driven out by the thought of how warm it would e to stand next to the fire. I can almost see the flames reach high towards the clouds; I can almost see the flow from here now. – Either my vision has improved dramatically since I came here or that I am imagining it all. It scares me to think that I cannot think of the people who may be trapped in there, all that there is in my mind is my own comfort. Now I can almost smell the burning hair and the screams of would be innocent victims tug at my consciousness. I leave it again to my imagination. I almost hear the fire crackling at the futile attempts of the small innocent people trying to fight it. It knows that it is a lost battle, but that will not stand in the way of its arrogance.

I try to blot out the images that my mind conjures up from the past. I do not feel like thinking anymore. I notice that my cigarette has reached its demise – poor soul. With this thought in mind, without thinking, I take out a new one and light it with the old one – need to save matches.

This was originally written a long while back. But, somehow, at times, I feel that these expressions of my psyche, sub-concious, are important at some level. At times it seems that my mind is trying to talk to me through symbols and metaphors. Analysis of super-complex relationships between all information learned or acquired. There is a part of my mind, that I cannot see, which keeps trying to talk to me.

Does this mean I hear voices in my head? Definitely not. But, does that make me better, worse, equal to people who actually hear voices in their heads.

3 Responses to Random Thought – Day One

  1. N.R says:

    This is gloomy man! I like the rainbows better. 🙂

    • Rainbows are better. But not all the time. There can be no appreciation of rainbow till there are none. Speaking of Rainbows, did you check the other two posts I have on them?

  2. W_H says:

    read it ,,, liked it ,, craving for more

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