I took a break, a long break, mostly soul searching; in books and movies and web series, whatever I could find to get away from myself, to indulge in stories, interesting stories, good stories, sad stories, obvious stories. Now here I am, feeling satisfied, enough to know that I am not alone on this excursion to know myself. There are hundreds out there. So, this time, I bring the stories I have seen in the world of cinema, which are close to me, close enough to give a reflection of my inner self. Every week, there would be poems depicting the stories. They won’t be movie reviews or critic but more than that.
No one’s at home today, this is my chance, hurray! I’ll use the bed, be comfy and put the blanket overhead. Not like the other times, where the behind freezes over the tiles. Pornhub, redtube, forhertube, youporn, which one to see? Asian, Chinese, big front? No, this time big ass. I stream the video and pull out my little brother; which is going to be huge in sometime. The noises and the moans makes me arise, I close my eyes; and imagine Miss Malik with a ruler; and glasses with that sexy dress.
I was 13 and I was exposed to this sudden release then. Pornography epidemic it was, which gave me a burst of dopamine with no regrets.
Girls on dance floor, with happy faces and drunk smiles. One shot, two shot, three and you are high. Loud music, where you come to unheard your inner voice, which tells you to come out to the beach; with flowing streams and silence you cannot defy. You are flowing on the dance floor; with hundreds of people accompanying you, but if they are with you, why are they pushing you.
Every night at 12, I lie down in bed. Tick Tock Tick Tock.. I count sheeps starting from 1 but ending I don’t remember well. I stare at the sealing, I stare at the walls, I lay down still with no motion at all. But every night at 12, I forget one thing, it takes me 4 hours and 30 mins to sleep.
47, 48, 49, 50. You can’t sleep, can’t you? Tossing and turning in you bed, You think about those times, the one that went wrong, where you shouldn’t have said what you said, or you shouldn’t have done what you did. You recall all the faces, the one that looked you with scorn; the one with the pity in their eyes; and the one who think you are shy. You think about that girl with soft hands, reaching for your shoulder, the one with sweet voice who innocently asked you if you okay, when she saw you sitting in a crowd crying. You repent not looking at her innocent face, as you turned away. You still have the guilt of the escape, when you wiped your cheeks, stood up and left that space.