Death Wish

The darkest days sometime start with a glorious morning,
I watched the sun rise from Ra's arm in Hamunaputra.
I was standing infront of a lake
The black water reflected the curled fangs of the sun in the murk,
With my finger I sent an angry ripple towards it,
And looked around me,
Locked up,
Lonely,
Solitary,
Hurt,
Murderous.
Numb,
Humiliated.

I felt like Jesus on the cross,
as faces floated around me
laughing at my hurt, my bleeding limbs
my weak limbs, my failing limbs.

My head hurt from last night's torture,
My stomach ached from hunger
And my shoulders drooped from overwork
My eyes were diamondlike from the cold and the wind.

If this weren't the end then I didn't know what was,
I have lost everything,
I had given half of it away long back in a bequest of the heart
And now half of it lies torn and tattered.

I am a dead man,
writing a dead song.

Recovery

I feel like I am trapped inside a bubble that's about to explode. Running with blind eyes, my body beaten and bloody away from a screaming, biting past that sends its deathly sentinels after me, memories. I close my eyes, the screaming noise in my head now flattens to an echo, I inject happiness in my veins. The momentary confusion between joy and misery is death, my substance, my lover, my curse.

It's 3 months now that I am clean. This last rehab sentence ( I call it a sentence because Kripa rehab, Kolkata is worse than a jail sentence) was the worst of the four. By now I can say that I am a dead man from inside, my hollow insides are writing; dry and knotty like dead wood. I have hit rock bottom. I just can't go on with my habit anymore, I know it, but I am scared nonetheless of relapse. The dark circles beneath my eyes are just compliments to my state of mind right now.

I feel like I am a circus clown riding a bicycle whose wheels have been put on fire and there are no brakes, so I'm cursed to ride around endlessly until I fall or unless someone holds me or stops me. This reminds me of the Creed song, "Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking..."

I'm such a whore, I think. My substance pulls my strings with 30 bucks and I let it bare. More than my body and mind, I think I am selling my soul to this substance.

My life is almost over now. Just holding on to one last hope. If God is there and I believe he is, then he won't let go of my hand now.

My recovery, has begun.