Tuesday, July 29, 2014


he wakes from his dreams of seesawing shadows and luminous lights. the echoes of his dreams linger in his movements as he gets up from the floor and falls on his bed two steps away from the spot he lay on. he closes his eyes to immerse himself in the dark, sumptuous green, grey and blue... his days are no longer distinguished from his nights: they are shadows of time that seems to have stopped. he no longer cares about its passage. he is now time, firm yet flowing. soft pellets of water come down in a gentle murmur outside, another summer rain. he hears the sounds, smells the earth as it opens up and soaks the moisture in, releasing the odours of life. life... where is his life? how long has he been staying in this hotel room? a savage that he is, he knows only the torn, broken pieces of things inside and out. he could pass for the sanest man if he were to walk out now, but his eyes are deepest wells of thundering pain disguised as tiny flickers of smile. he is an actor par excellance. enough... he walks out, staggering. the dilapidated building he emerges from is dark, old, and full of echoes of dreams the inhabitants are enveloped in. he stares up the skies that are mimicking his endless sorrow. he no longer remembers why. he no longer remembers how. he no longer hopes. wading through the puddles, the rain streaming down his face, he walks the block, coming to face another building that was his home awhile back. he looks up. he waits for the memories to kick in, for the gut-wrenching feeling to begin tearing at his insides. instead, nothing comes. just disgust. he heaves drily, and vomits a trickle of foul bile. his eyes sting and tear at the effort. with the rain coming down harder, he walks on, finally free, finally cleansed, finally at peace.

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Бусдын эрхэд халдсан утга агуулга бүхий комментуудыг хэвлэхгүй болно.

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