This post has more to do with polygamous thoughts than absolute polygamy. Colors, collectively, cannot overpower black. Light isn’t strong enough to overpower darkness. Sometimes your darker self is your true self. He stood there for a while and gulped down the red pill. And he kept on lighting a cigarette after another. He went out of the building and lit a cigarette. He felt overwhelmed as he went on a rampage indiscriminate between human life and machines. He looked at the bat and then at the room again. Everyone was busy in their own cubicles staring into their monitors mindlessly punching away at their keyboards. He stood there looking at the motionless body. This was the best stroke he had played in his life. He struck the bat with the worst fury known to him on his colleague’s head. He emerged out of the washroom and made way to his cubicle. He took out his baseball bat he had hid years ago in this washroom for his coup. He felt the dark matter making way up his feet.
Yes, his was an expressionless face, shiny like cold steel. The rage inside him was making its way to the far ends of his limbs. The voices were too shrill for him to take. He could now feel the stench of his office. The black paint on the mirror was slipping down. He had already painted all mirrors black for the fear of not recognizing himself. He felt it was slippery and shiny like a manikin made of steel. He wanted the fissures to burst open and engulf him in the molten matter that was brewing beneath.
He felt cracks were developing on the spanking clean office floor. And he knew it.Įach step of his was growing heavy. The snot that had built was pushed down, but only momentarily. He looked at the cold and numbing telephone receiver. The nausea was making its way to his throat. He hated the stench of conformity all around him. He knew the defeatist in him wins every time. Maybe that’ll wash away some of his sins. He wanted to smash the receiver on his face, spurting blood. It made him think about his life as well. What a sorry excuse for life, he thought. Looking at his face made him feel disgusted. After a while, he returned the receiver to his colleague. He liked the numbing comfort it provided. He felt as if he wanted to shove the receiver down his throat. His colleague was holding a telephone receiver. He mumbled under his breath and turned his neck. Pat! The last stick was successful in breaking his neck, again. Betrayed by the dark matter already, he now wanted to be crushed under this immense weight. So this is how a black hole would feel like, he thought. He was being crushed under his own weight. He tried to come to terms with his surroundings. He wanted to be in unison with the dark matter. It made a crying sound, a pitch which would deafen mortals. The matter seemed to writhe and twist changing its shape. Killing the last breath of humanity in him he had saved for his coup. He wanted the figure to spawn around him and suck him in. Darker than the heady cocktail of bitterness and tar in his lungs. The words seemed to come together to make an amoeba like figure. He tried to make sense of the gibberish on the screen. His laptop screen was staring dead into his eyes. Nothing much was left inside anyways save for a bitter heart and tar filled lungs. The walls of the cubicle started to come down on him. The lyrics were making perfect sense to him. The lying, the bleeding, the screaming / Was tearing me apart / The hatred, the beatings it's over.Ī snap of fingers startled him from a state of suspension.
The lying, the bleeding, the screaming / Was tearing me apart / The hatred, the beatings (disaster) it's over.Īs wicked as you are, you're beautiful to me / You're the darkest burning star, you're my perfect disease. Well you're so filthy / I'm better off without you and you're better off without me / Well I'm so ugly / You're better off without me and I'm better off alone. Paint the mirrors lack to forget you / I still picture your face and the way you used to taste / Roses in a glass, dead and wilted / To you this all was nothing / Everything to you is nothing. The lying, the bleeding, the screaming / Was tearing me apart / The hatred (deceiving), the beatings it's over. Well I'm so empty / I'm better off without you and you're better off without me / Well you're so unclean / I'm better off without you and you're better off without me. I remember when all the games began / Remember every little lie and every last goodbye / Promises you broke, words you choked on / and I never walked away / it's still a mystery to me.
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