Word Salad

I picked, I minced, I garnished...
I smelt, arranged and served... my words.
Eat them.... you might like.

Does pepper make you sneeze? I thought as much... so put some rage instead.
My wit wasn't sharp enough to cut the lemon, I hope you don't mind me squeezing a little sarcasm into it.
I left the salt on the table, add as you need. At least, you should have something to your taste.
By the way,
I know you love honey, but I'm sorry... my memories are too precious to be dripped on this word salad.

Try those round red things in the middle.
No, they aren't cherries. They are all those moments I don't cherish.
Sour.. right? Must be.
And those fresh green leafy things... yes, the ones to the left... have them carefully. They are the outgrown dreams that I had to trim down every morning.
The yellow slices rimming the plate... they're sweet. Each borne out of the rare lovely mornings in my life... each borne out of a ray of sunlight.
Oh.. I see you haven't tried the white sauce. It's not as good as mayonnaise, but it's all I could strain out my empty walks under the moon.

Eat eat eat...
Try everything that's served. Don't save anything for me. All those little bleak pieces, even I don't remember what all are those... just some crumbs from routine boring days, I guess.


And as you slip the pieces down your throat, remember, you cant burn them in your belly. Once they go in, they'll move up your bloodstream straight to your head and stay there... forever. You won't forget the taste, try as you may...

I don't...

I listen to the same songs again and again, though I know where to get new ones.

I try to write, but I fail. I try to sleep, but I fail. I keep thinking, of just one thing. I need alarms to wake me up in time, because I don’t sleep on time. I need a timer to remind me to drink water, because I forget. I eat because its lunch break, and everyone else is going for the grub.

I get tired of my inability to think. I don’t lose myself, but I don’t know what to do with what I’ve got inside. I pick a book, but I can’t read. I play a movie, but I can’t watch. I eat but I don’t taste, I breathe but I don’t smell.

I don’t lose track of time, because each moment drags on for so long. But then, days pass by, and I don’t realize that I haven’t done anything for quite some time.

I wish to run away, but I don’t make an attempt. I don’t like to call myself an escapist, though that’s exactly what I have been, for a large chunk of my life.

I wake up, I look at the light outside my window. I know exactly what day and date it is. I look at the sky, I see the light, and I can guess what time it is.

I know the amount of money in my purse. I know the number of dirty clothes in my laundry bag. I know where is my pen and paper, I know when do I need to buy a soap.

I ride the bus, but I don’t feel the jerks. I look out. I know exactly what street it is, but it doesn’t matter. I know how long more before I get down, but it doesn’t matter.

I know when my parents are going to call me, and I have a good idea of what they’re going to talk about. I know how much balance is left in my phone, but I don’t know if I can call who I want to.



Everything has its place in space and time. Am I depriving myself of something?


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