Unburthened soot , I .

I couldnt shut my eyes. I twisted and turned, trying to find warmth that would slow down my metabolic rates to one of a happy sleeper. I failed pathetically this time. I paused, stopped moving. Settled on my back, stared at the slightly grilled shade that was visible on the ceiling, smiled for I had found the position I wanted, stretched and free, isolated and bereft of any human touch. Then, it started. The tears. Burning my insides, it began with an unimpeded rush. I wished it would roll down with equal fervor and stop the pain stabbing my eyelids. I shut them tight. My tears rolled down, farther away from where my vision could trace. Then, it began. The trip, straight down and faster than I wished for. Wet it was, I could imagine. Blood rush out of anguish or some unknown disgust enwrapped in jealousy fuelled my imagination, justifying its every stance. Wet, it was. Swish, dried it off with my left palm, but the swift motion did not dive into the oblivion unnoticed. What happened? Came the least expected words, staring at me on one straight string, soft yet stabbing hard inside me; and casual but dead serious. Closed them, my eyes. The reply came as if the auto mode was still on, nothing, mmhmm !. Im not planning to go on asking till eternity to hear another word being uttered, so shut the crap and tell me. A slithering thought snuggled past, an inch close to my ear lobes, strange clicking of tongue or rather I should say, tongues was all I could decipher. It continued for another minute and a half and I waited, waited for the patience to adsorb all the pain, the burning, the stab, the sting so suffocating rather than painful. I waited. And waited. And waited. Wanted to spit it all out. Say it all. No pauses. No junctures. Just words. Words flowing in constant spontaneity. Just, a stream of consciousness. No, stream of unconsciousness. I want that. Perhaps, wanted that. The trance. I wished I could be succinct, for once and feel the completeness I felt an hour ago. It was strange. An hour ago I was finding it cruel to suffice my happiness, and here I was now, strange footsteps echoing in some strange cave-like hinges in some corner of my cranium. Moribund, isolated and confined. Yes, it was the last I expected. A claustrophobic crowd to drain the last ounce of patience dwelling in

me. I lay there. An eerie silence enveloped my insides with the same flammable madness, cancerous and deadly. I turned around, the city lights bothered my senses, diminished the slightly lit hearth inside me. Hazy, the room was. Well bound in the molecules of tight smoke. THC all around. It wouldnt have mattered, to a layman, just smoke. And smokes. Smokes in varied shapes, diffusing one by one, another awaiting to follow suite and yet another clinging onto it, hanging on its trail. Dense, incandescent smoke, yellowy clusters of molecules clogging the already fogged vision. I wanted to run away. Again. The escapade probably brewed anew the rest I craved for. I needed it. No, I need it always. I feared I would get addicted to that. The plain notion that life can be paused. The world can be paused for me to settle my frustrations, the notion scared me. By fear I mean a completely different stratum of fear. An evil one. The one that Hyde would desire of, and try, synchronizing the cog-wheels of life, restating to himself that its simply, impossible. And, trash it. That is easier to cope with, convincing yourself that its humanly impossible. That you cant do jack about it. But, now that I know that it is purely possible, Im scared. Scared to the core. If fear could transform the energy contained in it, it would burn itself, burn my flesh, my bones. And burn me. I could imagine it so clear. Crystal, it is. Enwrapped in a new feel, it started again. This time, the heat. The fire. I felt my fingers feel the prick. It started with a tiny sting. I could miss it, had I been subconscious and not conscious. Then the heat gobbled up more fuel from somewhere. Then it started burning. I could feel the blue flame, I opened my eyes. Pale peach, my fingers were, untouched by anything but fire, wet from the sudden perspiration. I shut it close. I felt as I could feel the substance, yes, some substance, fuelling the fire, feeding it. I felt it change blue to crimson. A second, a swish, thats all it took to feel that my bones were ashes now. Plain weightless floating ashes like that of an ending cigarette. Adorned with black chips in between, I felt my burning finger akin to a gold flake butt. Bright crimson red. The light prior to the unfathomable darkness. The end, the death. I was the ash now. Dead and afloat in mid air. Every carbon atom that I held close till date was ash now. Plain blunt ash. There was no me. I was gone. Into thin, nah, not thin; air can never be thin, it has a lot to tell. The tears it takes into itself, the smell that makes

someone crave for a person and the same that makes me choke smelling my own ash. I could smell myself, the shuddering smell of burnt flesh. My burnt flesh, coupled with the soot. The soot that bears my identity. The carbon again. I was afraid to part my eyes and struggle my way to the reality. For the sole reason that I liked the feeling. The feeling, yes its all about feelings. The feeling of the numbness. Detached. Free. And desperately craving for more.