poetry

Fidelity

image

Mary Shelley’s Diary

8th july 1822.
23.35

I killed him.
He didn’t die a natural death like he wanted but he died making love.
Ah! I fulfilled his last wish.
Even broken in body as he is, no one can feel the joy my spirit feels. The starry sky, the moonless night overwhelms me for my HUSBAND IS DEAD.
He, celebrated “love poet” was a Bloody Rapscallion.
And I, a vampire.
Sucking that life out of him while giving that hickey on the neck was such orgasmic pleasure. He couldn’t satisfy me while he was alive, but he did while dying.. how I wish he was dead a few minutes later.
I, wanted to stab him in his heart and rip all those four chambers apart. Ha! Such a cake walk it would have been.
I wanted to be the fishwife instead to my sea otter husband.

As the clock strikes 12, when midnight comes, it brings all those spirits in that graveyard alive,
I dug his grave, tearing his flesh apart gently (with love like crimson blood) and suck all the blood left in his body for no rum would quench this thirst.

Pages in PB Shelley’s Diary fill themselves with crimson ink.

9th july 1822
2.09

Mary, my fishwife.
Naked she comes to my holy grave with her breasts shining bright in moonless night.
Her soft hands holding a bewitched dagger in a night as dark as those wishes in her eyes.
Mary’s heart was a dark deap ocean of cryptic conundrums.
That cold steel sharp edged dagger ripping my flesh apart.
My body didn’t feel a thing for she thought I was dead. But I am not.
My spirit still hovering around.
Oh my flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and whose love poisoned me.
Comes to me naked with wild eyes.
She stabbed my heart exactly four times, cutting out each chamber delicately and placing them in jars.

She knew.
I killed her first beloved.
And she took her revenge.
How did she know? My spirit still wonders.
I stay here on this earth until Mary unites with me in Death.
A hickey had power to put me to sleep,
I’d embrace her in death and her soul shall weep.

life

A Solitary Date @Coffee Home

Sitting by the window in Coffee Home, aroma of coffee builds a cloud of stories around me. As I gaze outside mesmerised by the foggy weather I see the poor children playing outside in the cold with dirt on them but they were free and had smiles on their faces. The cold didn’t seem to bother them during their play. Fearless birds they seem, purely living in the moment and enjoying life.
When I shift my eyes inside the big coffee home I find people running, debating, having meetings. Someone finalised a deal and headed for the door. With about more than 50 people around me, I was there sitting with coffee, my bag and my book that I was supposed to read in peace but couldn’t because I was busy reading real stories. Some came with family, some came with friends. A few were aloof like me sitting in corners looking around, actually reading books, and watching people. What striked me the most was the fact that even though people had company but still they were hooked up to their phones for long durations. I saw a family waiting for their order to arrive and there was a kid who wasn’t having a supposedly smartphone and was looking here and there because his family members were busy on their phones. Thankfully, I wasn’t, which I used to be and even continue to be sometimes, but wasn’t on that particular moment, and I guess I made a friend by making stupid faces and having fun with the kid. He was really cute and fair and had big black eyes through which he communicated. He looked like one of those babies in commercials. I wish to see that kid again. Something interesting striked me when I thought about it, what if we only used expressions to communicate. Silently expressing ourselves and just be. At the same time my love for words said something else. I guess I was just cooking up scenarios that could have made the world a better place. Coffee home is one of the places to know about humans. Humans like us who are different in some way. That day I saw a group of college friends hanging out looking for some cheap food and making noises and having fun and cribbing about being broke, it was a lovely sight though it gave me chills. Some love birds were too busy in themselves but if you happen to listen to their conversations you’ll find funny and quirky stories. It was a delight watching these people and reading their stories. By the time my coffee got finished I had a smile on my face and watery eyes. How amusing is life!