Karin

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told, the lone nameless girl bore one too many in her heart, she stood pretty on the north bridge facing the harbour at Fontvielle, Monaco, in the most densely populated country in the world, she couldn’t feel any lonelier. She gazed over the yon, her gaze searching, restless, absorbing the imagery like a voyeurs whim, but not quite finding what she was looking for, the dense foliage like a thick craving jungle laid bare on the hillock far east side, didn’t capture her imagination, nor did the polished white luxury yatchs all lined up like coffins of guillotined men and women, she was seeking some hazy image in her mind, she couldn’t tell what it was, maybe a childhood memory, her mothers caress, warmth of a cradle or maybe some ancient incantation, she couldn’t conjure.

She leaned over the white stucco bridge with baroque pillars and a chequered floor of matted tiles lay under her feet. Her right heel slightly tipped, in anticipation, and her feet crossed, playful, flirting with the view on offer, she was petite and had a lithe languorous body, like delicate porcelain, wiped squeaky clean tucked carefully somewhere. Anywhere.

Her surroundings disappointed her, the same insipid images and sounds, rich cultured people, young couples kissing, the fast sleek sportscar, she was dressed to kill and could’ve easily adorned the cushioned couched bucket seats of a red Ferrari, she even dated men who drove them, the prim tidy men who took too long a while in the loo to relieve themselves. She was a walking contradiction, she wore a Vivenne Tam black polka dot semisheer silk chiffon dress, the bubble hem framed her well sculpted toned legs, the pleating at the bust and straps adding to her feminine grace, the ruched banding with a sash held her waist gently like a lover with his arms slipped around her with a gentle flourish, a soft cup bra held her supple breasts tenderly.

But her svelte demeanour was only a fragment of her personality, look deeper and one would find a free spirit, a childlike exuberance, and unabashed uncouthness. But there was a certain sadness in her eyes, like the one she was enveloped with, when she listened to Erik Satie’s gymnopedie no.1, music had a deep effect on her mood, she was always careful with music, her discernment was sensitive, like that of a sommelier, sniffing the aroma of an old wine. She felt removed from her existence, a broken leaf, falling helplessly in the wind, she would often drink fine merlot and play the piano, just play along, possessed, exorcising her demons, and feeling an exaltation, almost a release into the deep unknown.

Published in: on December 22, 2008 at 3:44 pm  Comments (2)  

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i cant remember how it began or why?  Where reality ceased to exist among my intoxicated emotions. Without her, time began to unravel. My mornings turned into nights. A ceiling fan creaked as it swung looking down on a body draped in sheets as the light of the day waned from lemon yellow to a deep ochre. i felt a still presence in the dripping water tap over the kitchen sink. 

She was growing and calling from beyond, as i stood on the edge of my balcony, on the 56th floor of a nondescript building, a giant mass of an illuminated labyrinth lay in front of me, dotted with skyscrapers like an orgy of phalluses, dark clouds ominously clung to the horizon, mingling with the smoke of my burning emancipating cigarette. 

Millions of people were sharing her body. A flesh-eating animal, she feasted on my sleepless nights, she exploded my senses. The sidewalk rendered her thousand sorrows, glistening in the night rain, the promise of the neon night. Umbrellas mushroomed in a symphonic rhythm as the furtive rain came down cascading.

i mapped the countours of her bosom, as if i knew the way. They all knew her, where she was, she hid in their gaze. Obtainable, insolent, dancing among their nervous hands. Exposing her scented assets. Her stench was palatable, like a craving tongue exploring my body. My lips burning on her spicy flesh. i thought i had lost her. 

The city, lay naked in front of me.

The moon was an accomplice to my erotic charms, waxing above the thick horizon slicing through the wispy clouds, looking down at the banalities of the earthbound, the stray dogs barked with a rabid energy, water broke inside many expecting mothers, vestiges of the hight tide crashed upon the rocky shores as huge waves and lunatics walked alone naked and drunk on streets soaked in shadows.

 My mind coiled and meandered weaving random thoughts, reflecting, gazing at the blue splendour,  the setting moon peeked through the window at 3 AM, creeping into the frame, and rousing in me, a primordial mystery, a lost memory was reborn.

Published in: on October 2, 2008 at 4:30 am  Comments (3)  

Leaves

The leaves silently clung to trees

I woke up with a cold shiver, with a lump of heaviness on my left forehead like an ovarian cyst, thick and bulbous, my mouth was full of yellow bile, gelatinous, sticking to my tongue like dye to tanned leather, an orgasm of nausea engulfed my body, rising up from deep inside, lingering in the pit of my throat, like coiled snakes on Medusas head, I wanted to defecate, I wanted to drink a bottle of lukewarm saline water so i could cleanse my rotting innards, drink and purge.

I vomited twice, first, just water, while i kept fingering my navel as if to exorcise the daemons wrangled inside my stomach,  the putrid taste stuck to my mouth, i tried rinsing its acidic betrayal which made my teeth brittle, i tried regurgitating my bowels, my intestines, i wanted it all out, all the blood, bile and gore, all the horror of the night. A vomited a third time, it was thick bile, yellow and putrid, it fell into the W/C,  drowning slowly into the watery grave, leaving a trail, i flushed it before the image could get ensconced in my memory, i wanted to erase the night itself.

I lay in bed, a cold shiver, sweat breaking up on my forehead, a chilly spine, my hands searched feverishly for a sheet to cover myself while my eyes were delirious, too weak to open. I felt better in the afternoon, I waited for dusk, I waited for the dark hour before the street lights came on so I could walk on my balcony, alone, unnoticed, unwatched, but watching, become only eyes, sans my body, to draw in every whim of the evening, the teenage girl teasing the boy who listens to KoRn, the girl in her skirt, an invitation into the abyss , disembodied from the rest of her.

where can I buy one without the need for mutual acceptance and the grotesque pleasentries?

 I wanted to look west the yon,  the vast bleeding colours of a dream which was the sun,  it blushed a shameless want in ovulating red. I saw the sad silhoutte of the trees, their leaves like spines sprung out from everywhere, a repeating geometry, they clung to trees like pathetic lovers who seek to hinge themselves on people permanently, a cold mathematical equation they spread all across the branches, an algorithm, the logic of a soap opera, behind the gloss of the leaves, the velvet of the flowers, there was an equation, a dull classroom with walls bleeding from the rainwater and a teacher teaching fourier transforms.

There was silence, the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze of the evening, a beautiful disguise, a veiled romance, a gimmick. I walked over to the money plant on my balcony, I let my fingers gently caress the shiny gloss of the leaves, the taut youthful skin of pubescence trembled in my palms, I plucked out one large leaf, and bit into it, it was bitter, it bled and died, I flung it down, it fell helicoptering, twisting and turning on two axes, saving energy and momentum, the ground swallowed it, it was gone.

Published in: on September 8, 2008 at 5:25 pm  Comments (1)