A habitual day..perhaps!

Often when the melancholy door opens and stays ajar creaking in the chaos of the wind like the cries of the cat I sit their somewhere like an unclaimed piece of morning..i hear the theft alarms that sound late into the night as someone puts a hand accidentally or perhaps when a thief silently checks their own edges of knowing in the art of breaking in..the piece of morning, stale arranges itself around pieces of paper strewn around and a palimpsest made of speakers, cups of tea, some smelly tobacco and house as wounded as the heart of a child refused ..you trace a word on the open pages of the book, stay by it for minutes, keep staring so that it takes away the pain of looking, it takes away the pain of being for the moment, perhaps you wish to dissolve and know that it is not only you but someone from some other time, some other space echoes along, they are bouncing off their sounds waves, sending it out in unknown territory, to the vast emptiness that the mountains create..it keeps moving along for years, enters into many cracks, floats on the rivers, slips over the moss, drips down a broken hut, gleams for a moment on the morning dew, rustle with the wind on the wearied leaves, and comes home someday in another space when you extend the hand to touch it...the voices arising from the street seem familiar, not like the voices that criscrossed across the unfamiliar on shutter laden roads, but both are the same when you enter the dog days... 

treading down unknown spaces...

I tread down the space everyday, and let the work tire me down and the stare at the screen hide me into the oblivion. I just want to become another faceless person as I scurry for cover from recognizable faces. It must sound nice to cultivate habits that last, habits that begin to take over your will, habits that were once the product of those wills. It begins even before you anticipate the day and see its givings and wipe away the tiredness of the last night. Waking up fresh is a reconciled emotion, but you wake up to habits without knowing what the day holds and without seeing your own mark on the day..you hurry down the corridors, you wait along reluctant doors, you postpone your work to heal the tiredness but the tedium takes over, it swamps over all that you expect to achieve. You start to get irritated over those things that were supposed to get you through those days when you did not have anything and there was nothing which was being expected, you see them as intervening in your life and perhaps in the luxury of being that you were anticipating all this while but it all is a deluge which you were not prepared for, perhaps it was another walk into the oblivion that you wanted, perhaps getting rid of the tiredness is about being unrecognised, but you still put your self in that position where you announce your arrival and the being in the world, you stand unreconciled to yourself, a shadow of all desires, chasing oneself where one is not and cannot be ....