Sometimes

I’m tired of reading between the lines and measuring the depth. I’m tired of placing everything under a damned microscope. I wish I could admire the beauty of the surface, for a change. I wish I could appreciate meaninglessness, irrelevance and anything that is about as much use as a chocolate teapot.
Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes...

IV

Sometimes, she rides on the crest of the wave like the Chinese dragon-rider from her childhood. She loses count of day and time, flying with the moist breeze.

Sometimes, she somehow wants to whip and push the day, the week, the month with all her might waiting for an oasis which never appears.

Only sometimes, though.

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V

Sometimes, she wonders what if she just vanishes, one day, like those on the ‘missing’ columns in the newspaper. Or perhaps like the Cheshire Cat, from feet upwards till only her words remain choked mid- air.

Sometimes, she wonders what her epitaph will say. Will anyone come for her funeral?
And then she shudders.

Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes VII

Sometimes, he wishes things had been different.

That he hadn't had to leave. Not that way.

That he hadn't been so blind before.

He wishes for just one more day of happiness together. Before...

Sometimes he wishes for strength to throw away her last love-note from his wallet.

Not only sometimes. But still.

He's helpless.

Sometimes VI

Sometimes, when she wakes up at 3 in the morning, it all makes sense. There is perspective. She knows she doesn’t matter in the grand scheme. But it’s ok. She can live with it. She goes back to sleep content in her insignificance. The vastness of space is accepted. Peace edges in.

Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes V

Sometimes they wonder. Sometimes they think clearly. Thoughts coming as a crystal clear stream, flowing gently but continuously down into the valley of their minds.

The thoughts are their own, not fed by others. Their pondering at once amazing, yet so obvious to them. They were always curious.

What do I want really?

Only sometimes though.

Sometimes IV

Sometimes they lose themselves in each other’s arms. They traverse their varied past, go over and over their present and catch fleeting moments in their eyes.

Sometimes they shudder to think of the unknown future but soon enough love like there is no tomorrow.

Sometimes they celebrate their unusual lightness of being.

Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes III

Sometimes he dreams of his villa on the hill, his family gathered in unison at the evening prayers, his flourishing warehouse of knowledge. His lover in his arms where the great river starts her journey.
His funeral, his insignia.

Sometimes he wants to pull the trigger and play the game of gold.

Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes II

Sometimes at day break, she feels there is nothing in here. Why does she have to live this day? Why does she have to do as it is done, talk when spoken to?
Why can’t she jump off the cliff?

Sometimes as the day darkens she feels like not going back home.

Only sometimes, though.

Sometimes

Sometimes, her thoughts turned violent. Sometimes, she wanted to dig her nails into her discolored skin and drag her hands until the fat flesh underneath was revealed and the crimson tide ebbed from her body. Sometimes, she wanted to bend her stubby fingers backwards until it met her wrists and dangled limply.

Only sometimes, though.