smalltalksofalittlebird - Tumblr blog

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

Before I start to forget these minutes,

between the minutes; seconds, between seconds.

For all they had done was never to be mine to find out.

So before everything is plucked away from me,

I should talk about these days, how everything has been...

Enquiries, asking conventional questions,

and two-word replies are how you grow up.

This world is vast, our hands barely collide.

The words are not blades, like I thought at fourteen.

They are slow poison; in my blood, it spreads—

a sea of pollution. It finds a home in sunken ships,

in their rust; it kisses.

The ships—how long have they been there?

Some, for years; some, a moment before.

But the poison finds them there; it has mastered every route.

In waves, it brings back the clutter long forgotten.

On open; for everyone to witness

But,

Here lies my secret

I see in metaphors, speak in metaphors

My life, an old circus,

All are either clowns or they are doing the impossibles

The variety of tortured animals dancing around the ring;

I'm the ring master

And the sole spectator.

Plastic waste, they say, never decays.

In me, they have been recycled—a constant, though changing, shapes.

I embrace it, as familiarity is always welcome.

But the rotten ones, they smell,

And hands in your nose can't keep it away.

These moments, I wonder, do they smell like them?

Of the clutter that decorates my shore?

To briefly conclude,

These moments wish to die;

They are ripples that provoke my silent blood.

I wait for them to join hands, in vain,

Like the metaphors that adorn my world.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

The devil you bargained my body with

Has gone unruly lately.

Its outward manners are not

Unnoticed by prying eyes.

It doesn't cry even if it wants to,

Hasn't loved anyone since the deal,

Never sees what's in front of it.

It's still a devil, unfit in a human body.

In a crowd, even lonely, it sits there,

As if waiting, someone yells 'Devil!.. Devil!'

Fingers pointing to its borrowed body.

What strange world does it think is ours?

Its loud reverie splits countless realities at once, and my body aches every time.

Now, it still hasn't welcomed home

My body, and neither have I.

It doesn't regard the paths it took warmly,

'Unfamiliar,' it says,

Refusing any longing before it can sprout.

What did it offer when it took your heart?

So young, tender, naive, still not grown, unarmed against the one who stole.

The devil touches the tender heart,

Every once in a while, to remind itself it's there or to hope it stays.

My body is rusting, yet weary, I hope,

All the way for your return home.

What eternal youth is promised, I don't know,

What treasure you now own, I won't ask.

Will the heart take you back?

It is possessed with mellow touches and dreamy whispers,

And I don't remember you anymore.

You were a child after all.

But when you finally come back,

Call your name a thousand times,

I have forgotten it - the name, the place, or

How to stand on my legs.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

"I'm proud of you"

"what for? being alive?"

"of course, you didn't want to"

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

എന്റെ മുറ്റത്ത് എന്നെ നോക്കി

ഊഞ്ഞാലാടുന്നത് മരണമാണ്.

ഉയർന്നും താഴ്ന്നും അതെന്റെ അടുത്തെത്തുകയും അകന്നുപോവുകയും ചെയ്യുന്നു.

പരിഹാസം കലർന്ന അതിന്റെ നോട്ടം

എന്റെ ഏകാന്തമായ ഹൃദയത്തിലേക്കെറിയുന്ന കയറ്.

എന്റെ നിസ്സഹായത അതിന്റെ വിനോദം,

എന്റെ പരിഭവം അതിന്റെ മന്ദഹാസം.

അതിന്റെ കല്പാദങ്ങളിൽ ഈണമുള്ള ചിലമ്പ്, ഉടലിൽ കസവ്. അതിന്റെ ചിരി,

നിലയ്ക്കാത്ത വളക്കിലുക്കം .

എന്റെ നേരെ ചിലപ്പോഴൊക്കെ അത് കൈനീട്ടുന്നു

പിന്നോട്ടൊന്നാടി മറഞ്ഞുപോകുന്നു.

ഞാൻ ജനാലഴികൾക്കപ്പുറത്താണ്

എന്റെ മുറ്റത്ത് മരണം ഊഞ്ഞാലാടുന്നു.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

If we did not have the ability to imagine,

Where do you think all of us would end up?

If we did not have the vision of red streams flowing to a yearning sea,

Instead of the blood that refuses to let us cross these threatening moments,

Would we have paused too?

If we did not see a smile, long waiting for us somewhere far in the future,

If we had not daydreamed about the shades of that smile a thousand times,

Would we be forever lost here?

In this world where adjectives don't exist.

And what would be of me,

If I hadn't known the art of concealment

Of my world inside the many ones?

If there weren't hidden faces I had conversations with every day,

If I hadn't left broken pieces of my soul in any of them,

And if the pool of tears inside the chamber of my heart

Is the only place all of them see the glimpse of each other,

Where would all of them go?

The sons and daughters of my soul,

where would they find home,

If my mind had not known how to dream?

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

I have layers within me that I cannot unwrap. Nowhere in the world do I belong, and nothing in the world reaches my soul. The smile I carry is just an imitation I learned was welcome in this world, from people whose layers weren't as deep as mine. Perhaps when the last layer of my soul falls, I could finally embrace this world. Perhaps then, my smile would speak better than my words.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

Today,

You sneaked into a new street of my heart,

A place unattained before,

And you stayed, looking around,

Watching the fire claim the newly discovered land.

Deep beneath the path where your feet had lingered,

A river found its life.

It would flow, defying the rules of time,

Not waiting for centuries to flourish.

What grandeur and glories would thrive there,

Against all odds of my heart!

Your touch became its heartbeat,

Did you realize?

Your hand causes a flood in its shores,

Your eyes, like the moon, sow chaos to

The river of your creation.

Yet, it obeys you, as a devoted servant.

If you were to recount this day, years from now on,

And if, by chance, you wander down this street again,

Would you know of the existence of this river?

Would you feel the thirst it once quivered with?

Perhaps, You might be too late.

The river might have dried down,

Its shore, devoid of life.

Nevertheless, You should know

Of the river, of its longing,

Of the pain inflicted by your distance,

Then, you might Collect,

what might be the reminiscence

Of a bygone past,

ruins of a fallen empire

And everything I failed to tell you.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

Tell me, you love me like your last words,

As if your breath has stuck in your throat,

As if anything except me is invisible to you,

As if the world in front of you is in the shape of my face,

As if you do not wait for how the words are returned,

Tell me, you love me with that smile,

that knows the world beyond now,

As if all your moments were leading you to this moment

Of the final smile that holds the liveliness of a life lived,

Then come back to life, like a person who earned

The sweet embrace of eternity.

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

To The Substitute Art Teacher - Jordan Bolton

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

ok i have a plan (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (gets distracted) (get distracted) (gets d

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

- Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

everyone's all about queer subtext until it's aromantic or asexual

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[smalltalksofalittlebird]

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[smalltalksofalittlebird]