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The Diary of Isabelle Christina...another entry
Contributed by
Euphoria
on
Friday, 30th August 2002 @ 07:06:45 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Entry: Rolling Dough
Time: 2:30Am
Place: Andheri Galee, Karachi
The beggar maid lay on the road side not saying a word; it seemed as if her head was heavy from the beating she had received from her husbandso she took to this quiet road until she could get away from his ugly gloominess and the vile smell of his sweat. Yet, I could hear the scream trapped in her throatI could see her screaming.she wanted to tell her story
Sometimes we dont really need to talk in order to talk.and we dont really need people to talk towe can talk to ourselves, or converse with silence itself.the silence which observes and is the historian of our societya silence trapped inside a sarcophagus of time
Im bursting at the seams right now, this cold winter breeze that comes from yonder bites my skin, and loneliness of the most profound kind envelopes my bodyI must break free. someone talk to me .help me escape the bonds of reality!...turn down the radioswitch off the lightsIll kill the newscasterno more news of Palestine...please.and I dont have the time or the money to save Kashmirwill you just leave me the hell alone!!!!!!!!
Feeling imperceptive tonight Isabelle...look at me.Im talking to you...down here by your foot!... I had to stop staring at the beggar maid for a whilethe voice in my head was killing me.I looked down and saw itdirtycrinkled nonetheless valuableit was a hundred rupee noteI screamed and kicked itI see you like to kick wealth out of your wayor do you fear the uncanny?...you wanted a story didnt you Isabelle?...come my sweetsit is our night just you and me and some how I could not escape the trancethe shadows grew and I felt I was trapped inside the cave of my head with echoes surrounding mefearing what spokeas if it were a goblin
Ive been aroundlike a whoretested , tried, touchedyet they want me again and againdo you know what Ive seenperhaps the real faces of men that they never expected to revealI know all about them and their dark fantasieswhat they are capable ofI have seen them sell their souls to the deviland I have seen even the finest droolwho am I anywaysjust paperand I still manage to rule your mindsjust paper...good enough to wipe your buttbut would you?...even the man who has more of the likes of me cant imagine throwing me away.I can feel that you want to pick me up Isabelle and stuff me in your pocketwhy deny the urge Isabellethey say a poor man is a happy man for he has little to care forthey liea poor , HUNGRY man is the evilest of all and he will surrender to anything I ran so I could hide form its grimace, its truth pierced my eyesI wanted runlet me go you bast**dlet me go!... tired alreadyso much is left to be said yetundonealways leave a little too early Isabelle coward spineless creatureo my darlingisnt it funnywhen they have me they presume they own mewhen it is I who owns themand every time they pass me around , it develops with in me an insatiable desire to wield more power all over , to hold them and subject them to ignominy and the pain of wanting me.I want tolike an evil seductress move into their minds so that they have no escape.pick me up Isabelle!!!!....pick me uplove me.I came rolling at your feetat your door.I can give you so muchpick me up..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and it started to chuckle as if it were mad an uncontrolled, wild laugh escaped its throat see that tramp by the road, I raped her desires and dreamsrolled right of her palm and under you feetshe wants melook at her.hahahahahahahah
I watched in horror as the sound seemed to grow louder and louder and louder in my headthe vanity of wealth that had turned crazy, its sorry state brought tears to my eyes, all I could say, all I wanted to say was Leave me alone......please.someone turn off the lights.I want to sleep nowend this relentless nightmarethat surrounds our very lives...please
I had spent the night on a wooden bench, the crows call woke meit was time for me to move on now. The fit of madness is overback to so called realityshall be back some other daysome other time.
Copyright ©
Euphoria
... [
2002-08-30 07:06:45]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Diary of Isabelle Christina...another entry
(User Rating: 1 )
by LOWMAN613 on
Tuesday, 22nd October 2002 @ 06:50:14 AM AEST
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