inside my head

Posted on | October 12, 2009 | Comments Off

Today,someone asked if i was allright. I shrugged and said,ya,course i was.

There is this constant headache that refuses to go away,suffocating me from the inside,as if there were a thousand million little children inside my head,all gasping for breath,caught inside this shrink-wrap of existence,knocking to be released from the inside of my skull,a thousand million painful grimaces on a thousand million faces which should have been pretty,innocent and unknowing of pain. Instead there are a thousand million old men inside my head,masquerading like little children,old men who are beyond exhaustion now,tired of collectively gasping for breath, of staring with wide white eyes into the dull pale blue glow of computer monitors in pitch black nights,of staring at the real or imaginary deeds of other real or imaginary men and women,and of not thinking about them,a thousand million old men masquerading as a thousand million little children who have seen either too much of the world,or too little of it.

i try to get my emotions away from these children who are old,or maybe i am wrong,these are just old people who are really children,caught inside my mind,stuck in a web of a milllion stupid facts,some required,some not-jostling for space. The old man who would like to play hide and seek getting elbowed into a corner by the side-effects of caffeine;the one who wants to eat chocolate being shoved around by the role of low-density-lipids in arteriosclerosis,the one one who would play tag peeking from behind the fat bum of the amount of water suspected to be present on europa…it is a mellee inside-and all of them are just scrambling,madly madly,crying for help which will not arrive,for a release which is beyond my powers to grant.

OF COURSE,i am fine- inside my head there is music being created the likes of which mozart wouldn’t even dream of, inside my head is being written the masterpiece trying to write which took the life of wallace, inside my head is being painted a face that would launch a million ships,inside my head is being carved a sculpture that would make Pygmalion go green.of course,i am fine.

i dream dreams,mad,crazy,noisy dreams in full technicolor-i dream dreams of white spaces,and a white vaccum in which white statues stand covered by white wrappers of noisy polyethylene inside cupolas of whitishly translucent perxpex, and all around the hall in which they stand is also made of a dazzling white stone which seems to me too white to be real white marble,and too solid to be fake,and i can almost imagine children with translucent fingers drawing lines on these walls-lines in brilliant crimson shining in the whiteness like fate-and all across,the hall is filled with music,loud,pealing music of mammoth organs rising to crescendos and crashing to silence and repeating the whole cycle again and again with a violence which is almost like the white hot anger of God,but not quite.

i dream dreams of being lost in this hall and running from one end to another of this hall between these white cupolae ensconsing these white marble statues covered in noisy white polyethylene wrappers, only there is no end of the hall, no walls and no roof and no stairs and no doors or windows, till the end of vision,there is only a deafening white light, filled with tiny white domes filled with white marble statues covered with noisy white polyethylene wrappers. and this noise is cold. i lie down on the white floor and sleep.

i am fine.

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