Subconscious Superheros

A night before her birthday, Erika decided to sleep in the balcony. She felt a strange warmth in the sight of the Indian lilacs filtering the moonlight to reach the road. Unlike other girls, Erika never liked the idea of Birthdays hovering over the sense of expectations. Her eyelids slowly gave up on the love of the landscape around her and she fell asleep.

“Wake up, Erika. Time to save the world!” The huge Neem tree apparently had a funny high-pitched voice, its branches followed up to poke Erika’s nose.

“Hey! I need to sleep. Go away. We will talk in the morning .” She could barely take out any sense, besides her conscious had slipped away into the surreal.

“Erika! You are so lazy. Come on! Get up!” Now the tree had taken a human form, the branch mended into a hand. A boy was sitting on the floor of the balcony.

“What? Samuel! What the hell are you doing here?” Erika woke up into the relevant thought.

“We need to save the world, sweetheart! Remember? You read it! In the class? It was written that we can save the world with love! what was the name of the author? Ah.. Who cares. Maybe I wrote it anyway.”

“Okay? Samuel. What do you really want from me?”

“You see, I am here for a reason. I know this is strange to you. The idea of you being a superhero. But come on! You are one! Don’t you get it!”

Erika woke up from the dream. She smiled on the stars while thinking how certain dreams make no sense. As she adjusted the blanket to sleep again, she sensed a piece of paper inside her blanket. She took it out and placed it under the moonlight. Her mother’s hand writing was imprinted on the hard decorated paper, it said

You are turning nineteen, tonight. I know you are not fond of birthday reads, but here is one for you. You are not an ordinary child, you have seen what I have seen. You have felt my pain at this young age and unlike me, you can still keep up with that cute smile. And that smile is nothing ordinary, it saves me from falling. You are like my superhero, Erika. 

I barely get the time to tell you this everyday, but I wish I could. I seek happiness in you. All I want in my life, is that smile. a constant north star for my soul to feel home. Keep smiling, superhero. And I am sorry, but I got you a present. It is kept next to your bed. I know that your fashion sense is also like the superheros, but please accept that normal blue sweater. 

With Love,
Mom

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On the Corpse of the Cosmos

I am lost and seeking refuge. At times, at home, where everything is the same, I feel a surge of alienation. Alienation leading to the path of surreal yet complete encapsulation of illusions.

I sit down, numb everything but my forehead. It takes a while to forget the trauma of my sense. Slowly, a serene light hits the shore of my temple and I am held.
Held home, if you will.

But you won’t . So I don’t try telling people about it, I just open my eyes from the dimensions where time lacks influence on space. I open up to the world where all beings are just and lost, so I cry happy tears, knowing the reality and decay of the time.

Beautiful things are simple. Like a conversation with a friend who gets you. Although it is impossible at the versified age of human depression. But yesterday, I cried of happy tears with a friend. She could understand the light and the vision of the surreal home. So we took off to another plane and counted the dead stars in the night, while hanging out on the corpse of the cosmos.

The deal was simple, digital screens can end up in the best creative promt. We decided to let go off the entire universe, because inside encapsulation of the bent space, nothing that we are aware of really exist. Yes, the imagination led us to an inside of a dead star. It is strange and uknown to science as to what happens if someone breaks down while travelling through dimensions.

But thanks to the movie Intersteller, the virtual date got even more interesting. We visited memories in the void of that night. A few years in the broken space was funny enough to lose some tears, the good thing was that the expansion of the conscience was comforting.

It was like meditating, the wrong direction of escape but when pushed back into the realisation that it was around 2:00 AM, all we could do was smile on the broken dream.

Everything gives room for spiritual insight, its just that we forget how to smile sometimes. That one night happened for the justified carvation of these lines:

Last night, we slept on the corpse of the cosmos,
Lived a little while in her eyes,
A little in mine.
For memories and the mortality of time,
We laughed of the tears from life.

 

Time Does Not Count

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” Its been almost two years now. Still thirteen chapters. I wonder when will I be able to complete it. Cannot even think of a good blog.  This block is suffocating”
With my hands in the pocket, I took another step towards the end of the road, at least we assumed there was an end. Emily was with me, the faint sight of her lost eyes was comforting in the chilling weather. She looked at me, no expression on her face, she said,
“You think too much, or maybe, you think very less. Try a drag of this cigarette, every artist needs it once in a while.”
She passed on the cigarette. I placed it in between my fingers and felt a sensation on them. Numb from the cold wind, the only feeling my skin had while holding the cigarette was suffocating.
“This thing only adds on to the blur of life. I am lost in the story and I would like to find things settled down. If the smoke from my mouth can shape a portal to things I cannot think about, only then I will commit an offence to the wind.”
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Portals to the things you cant understand? Here is something for you. Why can’t you move?
Everything stopped, I could not move my body.I could not even roll my eyes around to know if everything had stopped with me. I could not feel my heart as if everything had stopped and all senses numb.
What is this?
You wanted to know more, well you are in space without time, how does it feel?
I did not understand how I was emitting the question and the voice impacting the space, it had no source, it was everywhere. It said, space without time. Except for my thoughts, everything has indeed stopped.
If you want to move, leave the body. I am a ghost which unlike the common ghost exhibit a body but not time. You cannot see me in that flesh, the flesh cannot function without time. Humans are the creatures of time. You want to know more, Leave the flesh. For a while, everything will die, but you will live above your death.
How?
I said, die. Meditate your energy on the soul and die off time.
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“Meditate. I have to Meditate!” Everything resumed and my heart felt the same as if nothing happened. Emily looked at me, as I shouted.
“Sure, go ahead. Don’t scream. If only meditation helps you to write your book, go meditate.”
I looked at her, clueless about everything. I had to die, Something told me I had to die off meditating. I closed my eyes and brought all my focus to my forehead. My numbed body helped me forget everything.

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You are on your way, let them die now. Let Emily die.
With my eyes closed, I could sense the images around me. It was horrifying, I could sense that Emily was not breathing, and her cigarette started burning her. Her chest was on fire, and the fingers emitted smoke, the blood was forming vapours.
No! I love her.
Don’t love her, or else time shall arrive for you. This is not your world, son. Nothing you know exist without time. When you return, the world shall be alive. Let it die, for now. For now, the past has nothing to do with the future.
I kept my focus, the voice was hypnotic almost as if blending into my existence and not in my senses. I could not feel the world then, everything disappeared. I could not sense colours, or smell, or movement.
You cannot describe this to yourself. We are in a poem, written by the origin. You are infinite dimensions away from the origin here. In the time-space coordinate, almost 20 years from the instance of oblivious death to humane birth.
Whatever this is, whatever you are, take me back! I don’t belong here. Not right now, at least. Give me time, I am not ready for this.
Give you time? There are spirits here resting, getting ready to crossover infinity to meet the divine origin. And you ask me for time. You are meditating right. You want time, you shall get it. No artist good enough from the realm of time. You wanted to know more, but yes, not ready to know more. There is no now. Just open your eyes, the flick of your eyes, the movement shall make you live, and everything here will die. This is space, and remember, it is everywhere without time.
There was nothing I could think, I could not comprehend a single unit of my existence in this space. Everything I ever thought and now this, a void that defails my whole life. And it feels a lot more real.
You have written a lot, but now, you have to start fresh. Time does not count. Numbers are the tool of time to form a loop. One day in your world, Maths shall discover our trace. Spirit already exist without time. Visit me. But, remember once you return, forget the numbers and seek the essence. Don’t write things comprehensive to mortality, for you are the few minds that will remember this meeting. You will write this and the reader shall then seek redemption from the cage you exist within.

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I was back. Emily was alive, the cigarette was burning in her hand. Everything else was a blur as the fog surrounded the sight. I took a deep breath in and smiled. Felt my heart move, almost as if more weak to the energies around me, forcing me to move and breathe. But I could smile, I had the idea. I knew what to write.
“Throw that cigarette, I know what I am writing for my next blog post.”

The Eternal Verse

Souls dwelling in the sun,
Their cries bleeding into crevices
Immortality imprisoned with love,
Surfing and drifting with flares while they sleep.

In the sleep of pain to forget the night,
They dream of the Earth, the allusive lies,
A planet where they can live in bodies,
Not the celestial fire, but the creative desire.

Sleeping for centuries and almost lost,
But one day, they listen to their cries,
As vibrations from the sun,
Holding the planets of deception,
Awakening through the nerves that went numb,
We all, one day, will drown with the burning lungs.

The mighty prison shall break,
And the poor souls shall pay their pain,
Karmic supernova till the universe collapse,
The mystic material of the forehead to overlap.

We shall cry in peace,
Our broken soul would heal,
Through the dead breeze,
We shall fly towards home.

Not Earth, we are not alone,
But we are one, the sun then,
And darkness now,
Home is the void around.
Mystical sound, unless the sun bursts into time,
Unless dimensions are broken down.

 

 

 

Music and Mania

There are verses on the floor,

Born out of hunger,

There are rhythms to ignore,

If only the mind was younger.
There are books on the table,

To be hung over in the head,

There are mortal affinities,

To be pierced into the heart strings like a threat.
Out of all distractions of life and death,

Music have trapped me in the corner of my bed.

I can’t cry or weave some wings to lie,

I can’t decide the purpose of the play, tonight.
A violin now heads over to the shore,

Vibrations killing the skin and healing the soul,

I shall be frozen by the time it stops,

I shall be immortal without a thought.

What is my Name?

“What is it, Sagar?”

“I don’t know really know, one of those waves of thoughts that are not meant to be expressed.”

“Confess, in verse or vibrations that shall end up in the space once exhibited from the mouth.”

“Alright, I will speak it out then.”

“One day near the lake,
I thought to myself about my name,
About who am I?
Where I am going?
And where am I from?
It seems as if I am lost.
I looked around and the thoughts would resonate,
Each time, each eye would ask the same,

What is my name?

So are we all lost?
In the space just like this verse,
Enumerating through words,
Vibrating through walls of the heart,
Escaping through the origin of those stars.

In fact, all of them are like these words,
Exhibiting different answers to the questions,
To the same tree, resting over impositions.
What about the people, I have been with?
I have kissed beautiful woman,
Watched them sleep,
Greeted the dawn with my need.
Where are they? Their memories?
With the poems I gave them,
It seems that they too are long gone.

Just like my words,
Huh, traveling into the lost space,
Regardless of time, they stay,
And one fine day,
You will read this form of my claims,
When I rest by the eternal lake,
You will say,
Oh, that’s his name,
And what wonders he says!

Afterall, even if lost,
How senseless will be living alone,
Each word you read transmute my being,
I am a poet driven by insane needs,
To exist in you with your space,
To deceive you with your time,
My immaterial lazy mind,
Repeating the same line,
What is my name?

Quasar & Love

I am an astronaut, writing something after forty years, or maybe one, I can’t calculate. And I need to write this down, to confess what has happened to me, to hold on to my crisis. I was in love, and we were lost in the stars together, literally. I don’t know about her, don’t need to, for I was all in the oblivion of space.

The spaceship broke down. From Earth to Detroit, the planet where we were supposed to land for the research. The spaceship broke down and Manik died, he was not wearing the spacesuit. Alex was with me, fixing the oxygen supply,  we floated away from the explosion to unknown infinities.

There are certain ideas that float around in the darkness, the idea of love, of being lost, of being alone. I came to space, for there were fewer things on Earth to live for, but it seemed that space ironically did not hold the capacity to undertake emotions.

I was in love with Alex, and I suppose any two humans can fall in love when lost. I cant say that about the earth, but we were clearly in the space, lost. I was lost in love. We waited to die, the oxygen tanks were remunerated to synthesis oxygen. Oxygen could not kill us. She asked me to break her case, to push my head into the glass, so that she can be one with the universe, and not alone, lost in the darkness with me. But, I. I still had the faith of being sucked into the existential plane somehow, moreover, I loved her.

We floated in space for some time. You see, even time cannot exist in the dark. We don’t know about the day and the night, but the fact, that we are lost. She slept a couple of times, and I had to hold her suit, I could not afford to lose the sight of Alex. I did not sleep, I had a feeling she will drift away.

Soon, I passed out into my subconscious. Death? Yes, very close.

But I am writing this, sitting on an unknown planet, just like ours, but not ours. I don’t know where Alex is, I don’t know earth exists. Whether they exist. They say there is a black hole, names Quasar nearby the planet and I was sucked into the warm hole to land on a space station.

I wish I had died, I see her everywhere. She is gone, of course. Everything, one day or the other gets to be one with the universe, I will have my day.

But, one thing that suffocates me in the natural air of this alien land, is the fact, that I never really knew the women I loved. Those two times, she fell asleep, I could feel my heart beat, just looking at her alone in the void, all mine, yet gone.

She never felt that way for me, of course. She was a scientist, a practical head, she knew, we could not live, together, forever, in the darkness. She wanted to leave the darkness, once in for all. It is alright, she was humane in our insane quest to death.

You see, what kills me, is knowing that I never knew Alex and I still fell for her. She rarely spoke a few words in front of me, but I as the imaginary head created this whole story up for my diary entry.

I created the earth, space, Manik, Alex and my alien persona just to know that I never knew any girl I loved.

But this new world is greeting me well, I am imaginatively disturbed but well aware of the new place, where realisation hit me hard and I fall at times, yet the black hole that consumed my space-time for me to stay alive on this new planet was the saviour.

I was lost, therefore I loved.

For now, when I hit the rock bottom,

I am, confused.

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