Static Journey

Who am I. 

I ask myself, and those around me.

I scream these world to the world around me.

I am baffled and lost,

But even that makes no sense

I smile and wonder in introspection

Why it made no comprehension.

I was home all along

But why did I take a road so long

Sandstorm

I feel like throwing up. My eyes are
burning from the heat. My mouth is filled with paper. Yes, paper! Blank sheets
of paper forcefully put in my mouth to the extent that they are brimming out. Their
crumpled and folded edges poking out from between my lips. I can’t keep my
mouth open anymore. It hurts and my lips are so chapped that i am afraid that they
might start bleeding any moment. I contemplate upon the situation that has
caught me. Ironic! Isn’t it? I have my mouth open, yet its closed. 
I sense a sandstorm is picking up its pace
somewhere nearby. The air carries a strange smell with it where there is a slight
tinge of salt. I shut my eyes tightly as a gush of wind slaps my unruly and chaotic
hair on my cheeks.
I want to scream. Scream at my
helplessness. Scream at the vastness of the desert around me. Scream at the
static state of my body as thick rope pierces through it, tying me to nothing
but a bare bamboo pole.
I contemplate at my existence in
perspective of the infinity of sand around me. I accept defeat. I am nothing
and this episode maybe classified as an insignificant moment in my non-existent
and unwillingness to continue what the minions call LIFE!

A Question! (Deep-rooted)

I swim in a pool of perplexities,

It is shallow yet deep.

I wander around in an empty street,

A street strewn with guck.

I walk in an angry crowd,

It is quiet nonetheless.

I demand an answer to my question,

The question triggering the fuss

what is that? oh thats existence

i open one eye while the other one is tightly shut and refuses to open up, no matter how hard i try otherwise. the light blinding my right one. a tired groan escaped my dry, chapped lips. i felt as if i ever open them again they would tear open like dried and barren deserted piece of land where even the scorpions dread to crawl. i snapped back from my train of thought as the sun insistingly pierced my eyes. the cotton sheets clung to my drenched body and my back ached, but i refused to get up nonetheless. it felt as if nothing mattered. or was it that i wished that nothing mattered.
i turned in my bed. my hair were wet as if i had just washed them and strands of them clutched my cheeks and my neck as if yelping and screaming out. screaming? yes. but for what. for their existence or their reason for being where they were.
i pulled the sheets off me but they resisted just like cling film on those fat, highly-mayonnaised sandwiches you get at some cheap petrol stations on the highway.
i fought  the sheets off my legs and put my wet and fire-breathing feet on the cool terrazzo floor.
terrazzo floor to burning feet.
i needed that.
yes, but just for the moment.
i sat staring blindly at the white-washed wall in front of me.
it was pointless.
all was pointless.
just like that mundane limbo of a wall staring right back at me.