stories

On the verge…

We lived on the hill; the plains were already flooded. The house suddenly looked like a riverfront. Electricity was knocked out to avoid hazards. The rain started the day I was packed and ready to leave. He had nothing to say. I didn’t want him to say anything, that was the thing about me, I’d annoy people for explanations until I didn’t. Then, I’d stop engaging. No questions, no conversations. But the flood situation was getting worse forcing us to coexist but in silence.

We hadn’t spoken a single word to one another, and this somehow baffled my dog Caesar who kept looking at me as if to ask if I had lost the ability to talk. The cat sprawled as usual at the sofa, both of my pets were agitated and wanted to go out for some air, but the rain was just relentless. Caesar wanted to hunt all the reptiles it could see from the window and kept barking at it while I sat with it and stared at the waterfall outside my window. All that separated us from what we wanted was a massive life-sized window.

He slept through the day making appearances only at the table for food and some evenings we’d read in silence. He was reading ‘Analog Electronic Circuits,’ I hated that book. Hate is a lesser word to magnify the degree of dislike I had for the book. The book was pure evil. It took me three attempts to clear the subject. It reminded me of the dark time where I almost chose to instead sell my soul than to writing that paper again. I wanted to snatch the text and hurl it down the hill so that the floods could carry it away. I always stared at him with more disdain. He knew it would get to me and he exactly wanted that. He wanted me to react, and I wasn’t going to walk into the trap.

Today, however, I decided to clean the room finally and entered what used to be our bedroom after months. I sat around layers of dust as it poured outside. There was a musky odor to the room. The books shelves had changed colors. Only two things were spotlessly clean in the room, our picture and the bean bag on which he was fast asleep with the same book on placed on his chest. I took a cold hard glance at him, he who used to be my husband. I wondered if I could strangle him at the moment. I bent over very close to his face as if to read it.

The thing with men is no matter how fearless they look when they are conscious; are just harmless and naive when asleep as if they transform into the little boys looking for warmth. Their hearts beat at a faster pace as if they are anxious about their mothers leaving them behind. I suppressed the urge to feel his face. I was angry and cold but somewhere deep within I wanted to hold his face one more time.

He woke up startled to find at proximity to his face with a broom in one hand and a duster in another. ‘Am I going to die?’ he quizzed. ‘You wish,’ I retorted as I snatched the book and flung it across the room. He grabbed my hand and twisted it until my palm changed color due to the blood block. I continued looking him in the eye. The battle was on, and I wasn’t going to let him win. I had learned this when a dog chased me on my way home because I looked it in the eye. I saw the rage in its eyes and was petrified. It was later it hit me that I was the intimidating one whereas he was the reactive one. It feared me. It changed the way I looked at humans. I provoked them whenever I felt like it. Provocation brought forth vulnerability, in this case in the form of anger for anger was blind, blinder than love.

Does love turn toxic in the long run or is that which turns toxic is not love. The idealists define love as something that is immortal whereas the dreamers don’t think the golden days ever end. What about us cynics? The romantic cynics that idolize love but don’t trust people.

When we started, we were both young, ambitious, like water, tearing apart anything that’s in our way. We were elemental souls, the one that could either light up the sky or destroy the world. They envy us because we smell all lemongrass and honey on good days. But on the days we remain concealed from the world, we reek of alcohol and gunpowder, some TNT and nicotine. While we look all rainbows and butterflies, we are just playing a deadly game of Russian Roulette. I mean we chose this. We talked about this, and we wouldn’t settle for anything less. So it is choices and consequences.

He held my throat and pushed me down the bean bag. ‘Enough,’ he said as he applied pressure on my throat. My eyeballs looked like they were bursting out of the socket, so clear from the reflection in his eyes. ‘Close them now,’ he screamed in a manner that threatened Caesar who started barking at the door. I smiled at him seconds before gasping for breath. Caesar had sharp ears like any other canine. It started howling and barking louder coming for the door.

As I opened my mouth for air, he breathed into mine releasing his hold, and at the moment all the oxygen I needed came from him. He tightened his grip over my left ear and the edge of my face as he felt insides of my mouth that were now as dry as my throat. He flicked his tongue as if it were a magic wand, several swishes later it slowly started coming to life again and I could feel his lips over mine. It hurt as they bled through the cracks, he tasted everything that flowed at the moment. I wondered if it burned his throat as it did me. I slowly shut my eyes as my lips twitched and bled as if it was an orgasm of my face. They say you don’t realize the extent of heat until it pours and you see smoke emanating from the tar on the road. Only as it pricked, I knew how I much I longed for a touch. Caesar somehow seemed to be embarrassed and retreated.

He pulled my sleeves off my shoulders and dug his teeth into my skin till I pushed him away. He always clenched it around my skin as he was asserting a point. He moved his tongue around the teeth marks, that was when it hit me that he was trying to suggest that he knew his way through the most intimate crevices of my skin. I curled my toes around the ties of his lowers, as I slid them down. If it was a fight, I wanted to ready for combat, even if it meant throwing the first grenade. He pulled the fabric in one swift motion as its palms rested in the center of my chest to keep me steady as he buried his face between my legs.

Sex is a physical manifestation of a soul connection that transcends the mind. It is better known as making love, where two or more come together to blend with the universe, maybe that is why sex is about breathing deep, all the way in and out. It is where two energies collide to form a formidable union that connects sacral bonds that also connects the life that is born out of this meeting. But the challenge is dissolving resistance between minds. When it came to us, it was always me, the resistant one and he was the voltage that kept the current flowing.

His stubble pricked around as he paced around my being. I anchored partly to his hair while my palm pushed him away. More I wanted him away, the more I wanted him closer. He persevered until I clenched my legs together and finally threw him out. He could sense at the moment that I was losing my strength, the power was on the verge of surrender. I struggled my way up and pushed him on the bed as the dust flew like phosphenes around the room. It was my turn at the wheel, and we were going to cruise all the way up the sky. Somedays it’s either space or crash-landing, nothing in between.

‘You know where you belong?’ I whispered as he raised his eyebrows. ‘In the void,’ I said as dragged him all the way in like a strong blunt that hits you right in the throat. We swayed as the rain lashed outside the window, and broken twigs flew around, and the water level rose. Now musky odor of our bedroom just mixed with sweat, blood, a tinge of death combined with a brew of life that was in the making. My body controlled his; his face went pale as his hand gripped mine and he rolled his eyes up and hid his face in my hair as he shook. So close, so close to an actual stroke.

It all felt as if contact had been made with space and security clearances had arrived. He took flight as I shuddered partly in coming and partly in the cold. We lay there for the rest of the morning. The water level was rising at an alarming rate, and there was no way to escape other than being airlifted. But with all the communication cut off and being the only residents on the hill, there were fewer chances they’d come looking for us. But then and there, it didn’t matter, we had survived before, and we’d survive again.

poetry

We give love a bad name.

We give love a bad name
As you linger around the corner of my brain,
your face hovers over mine
Connecting neurons like dots on my black dress
Making me twitch, tingle and tremble
Cutting my T’s – like you powder your nose
inhaling, burning and releasing
I am already inside the premises 
while you are dotting my closed eyes
Your fingers race through my hair
like the keypad
finding the right password to get inside my head
You are a hacker,
Airplanes fly above us, their tail-lights as if chasing the stars
The west wind blows over the sea
As my fingers fish for your heart
you believe your lies to the center
mine to the left, walls, security checks, fingerprints and retina scans
for the access to your radioactive heart
But I am a spy.
I clench your heart, while you hold my mind

You rush through, I
take my time — I scramble signals
You tighten your walls
Intruder alert!!
Your army of cells clash with my military
knowing one of us will remain to clean the mess
Fighting in the dark, just lasers, no sound
Airplanes swoosh in the sky
as I breathe words in your ears
You go down as I glide
taking a longer route to my mind,
James Bond your way up.
I am the bride love,
shot in the head before
Ask Bill.

You are getting close
So freaking near, one leap of faith
I open my eyes, now mimicking yours
I need to get through
before you.
I drag you higher, as my eyes pass the test
the blade slides in the keyway of the lock
You distinguish
You know I have sneaked my way in
You call for a truce, but it’s too late now
the guns blaze
Your heart reacts, and my mind explodes
And we are stardust now
We see phosphenes fly

We give a love a bad name
In a bid to finish last
Mere mortals,
Fighting a war
You are just Israel, and I am Russia
You are all Yahweh
And I am 60 percent vodka
You shouldn’t have been allowed in
You wish to leave, but how
My mind is a prisoner of war, maybe
But your heart is mine now.

poetry

Cats and the moon

We crashed on the mosaic floor on the terrace,
on the night of the pink moon.
It was not late at night just 20:30 hours;
But we were sufficiently intoxicated,
From the party, we snuck out of
To watch the moon.

We traced the moon
until came a dragon, and
He swallowed the moon.
The moon slipped through its stomach to the tail.
The baby elephant held the dragon’s tail,
but he let the moon rise above his head;
But in the end, an evil blanket covered the moon again.

It was a serene summer night,
Nothing moved except the dragon in the sky
And my hair strands due to the occasional breeze.
The dragon left for another moon
As he turned his gaze
and looked at my eyes covered by a netted veil.

“Look at the moon,” I pointed to the sky;
He said, “You are my only moon tonight.”
I held his face and pushed his curls away from his eyes,
His eyes were as cute as buttons on his shirt.
White covered in blue dots.
“Hi meeewww,” he smirked,

I dressed as a cat,
In a black dress that fit and flared
With black stockings covering the rest
Of my legs.
My cat-eared hairband ended in the netted veil that covered my eyes.
He drew my nose with whiskers,
While I closed my eyes
And giggled like a happy girl,
I messed his stache
to look like whiskers and now
I was the Persian
and he was my rogue street cat.

I unbuttoned his shirt,
His shoulders glistened in the moonlight.
I ran my fingers through the dimples
As he held my face to show me the sky
And a translucent dragon swallowed my moon this time,
Then came the mean catfish and ate him.

My lips reached for his lips
Our kiss was soft and subtle, teenage-ey,
Not much tongue;
Just kisses that taste like
Candies and
Smell like strawberries.
Kisses that feel like
unicorns are flying in the night sky.

“Meeeeeeewww” he whispered as he broke away from the kiss
I beamed as a sky lit with a million stars
And his eyes glistened
As his slender manicured fingers ran
Through the center of my face.
Like I was back in my hometown
When I was a child,
As the sugar rush flowed to the brain
I felt the same happiness I felt.
As a schoolgirl that runs home for summer vacations.

I smother his face with mine,
We both rise
To look around for a while,
Whispering meeeewwww into each other,
As he holds me
Around my waist
And I hold his neatly moisturized neck.
The sea is still at a distance,
The dockyard has a colorful ships
Anchored to the shore.
As I crane from the terrace into the horizon
He holds me from behind.

He unzips the hold of my dress
Goes a long way down,
As goes to sleep the town
The faint sound of the train engine
Adds to the rhythm
As he kisses my neck
And I stand still and watch as time moves ahead.
He slides my dress off my shoulders
As he turns me around
Kisses my eyes over the veil
before he yanks me closer,
Our masks slip through our skin
Until we are just us,
Without sham or pretense.

He holds me close
And I keep him near to my heart
Our hearts beat through the quiet of the night
Tomorrow we’d be him and me.
But tonight we were just two cats making love
Under the moonlight.

poetry

Aftertaste

The aftertaste of your love

On my tongue

The excess of sweetness

Not that of candies and chocolates

But the twisted overdose

Of whiskey with crystallised sugar

That soaked in your skin as if

I was romancing a bottle

Of my doom

In the dark corners of your room

Lit in fluorescent

And tinted sunlight,

The creaking of the bed

To the sounds of your skin

Running against mine

The friction, the pain

It was a desert storm

Not the soothing rain

To the silence of our empty house

Screeching in each other’s ears

The look of rage

Into the eyes of lust

On a sultry afternoon

Like entangles kites that burn in the heat

of the scorching sun

While we are set ablaze in flames

Of your fiery desires

Healing my throbbing nerves

And curing your sleeplessness

Leaving an aftertaste of your sweet love

On my bitter tongue

poetry

Cigarettes after sex

Who decides how you fight

Someone you love to hate

Maybe you tie him up

Let the animal inside your cage

Come alive

As you bind him with his own knots

And starve him

You push him down

Tug his trousers

Hold him

At a distance

He can feel your warmth

Not let him touch

Or feel

While you feast his neck

Tug his hair

Till you hear him scream

And that’s how you fight

Someone you love to hate

And when the clock strikes eight

Minutes after two

You hold his neck

And breathe down his track

To his stomach and below

And look him in the eye

You challenge

You tease

Seduce and ask him to call a truce

Offer him an olive branch

But after you feel what makes him

The man he is

And you let him

Inside you

On your terms

And a million conditions

Until he offers peace

And then you wake up

Untie him

Wear your pride on your chest

Smile at him one last time

Before you return home

Savor your victory

Hold that cigarette high in air

Let the smoke guide you to base

And you shall tell the world that

You decide how you fight your battles

Especially with the one you love to hate