journal entries☆

a feast

3,2,1...music

Summer

I. [lunch at the dinner table] she prepped food that left garlic on my tongue and then tipped fridge-cold chocolate milk in a dirty glass cup ringed with finished lemonade. it tasted like shit, like citrus and cocoa curdling against each other. they scoffed as they gorged on teeny morsels of the food and that is what they do. i was aware of my teeth and it made me uncomfortable. we were like flushed domesticated piggies.

II. [bed time in rags] they cut off our power in the middle of summer nights and then we stuff ourselves in one giant room. i curl myself in a foetal position on the cold floor and i can hear sweat drip. he looks outside the window facing the dark street lamp and she looks down to seeing people lament. we were like cave bugs in a dungeon.

III. [corner of the bed] tingling gel on my foot, draped in her dupatta, the swelling never subsides. a green vein is popping out and my thumb twitches. i am to burn my skin with the gel constantly soaking under my skin. i am to be corrosive. like an exquisite dragon with acid green skin, my family is the solid rocks i've burnt. one day they'll all be ashes.

IV. [my brother's room] he's almost as tall as our father but he looks stupid small to me. they won't notice how he doesn't lift his head to look at me standing there and limping. i don't know why we are so big now, bigger than the whole world. i remember when we were insignificant but were kings. now he has a black beard. now he's taller than me. we were mountain peaks. we are different rivers of an ocean now.

V. [plastic water bottle] the bottle had coke once. softened edges, a ripped sticker, and its base is all chewed up. it creeks as i squeeze it. the water tastes of yesterday's lunch. no matter how many times i refill it, or how many times i drink myself to an ache, it won't satisfy this thirst. i am endless, i am a void full of crap.

VI. [fingers tapping on the phone] she won't text me. none of them would. i think i prefer it this way. i haven't spoken aloud about myself in so long and i'm getting used to it. if i don't speak about it then i don't even know how to feel. nobody has asked me a question in years. i am like a fragment of modern art they resent.

VII. [bathroom mirror] the tube light buzzes in my face. the surgical air reeks of sweet cough syrups and pain killers stored in the drawer. there are new bruise-colored half-moons beneath my eyes. i lean closer until my breath clouds the glass. how much do i need to lose to love all of myself? how much of it needs to be fixed? i am a leech sucking out my blood. there used to be love under my skin now there's tar.

VIII. [tv room] there's only one tv at house. it can only play movies from another language. my mother fidgets with the remote. she can watch anything. she must watch everything. not a bigger cinephile exists for she loves every film she sees and she watches atleast one everyday. she's neon at midnight when her face reflects the fluoroscence. i am a bystander.

IX. [white kitchen slab] he cuts a single mango in three and caresses it in his palm like a pale baby. the juices stain the corners of his mouth and slide onto his neck. he devours mangos like an animal. he licks his hands clean till they dry. and grabs another mango sinking in the water bucket. he is always hungry. he only talks about food. he is like hanuman reaching for the sun.

X. [balcony railing] i wake up to hearing the sound of a pigeon. i want to let them make a nest over the ac unit. they bob their heads and I cannot hear why. their feathers leave grey dust where they stand. they know my house better than i do. we are furniture to them. i was like a cracked tulsi pot left outside.

XI. [the freezer] the ice tray fused to the shelf again. i pull until my fingers go numb. the cubes scatter like pearls from a broken thread. they are perfectly shaped for only a few seconds. then every edge seeks to cut. it's like a shards in plain slight. i'm too eager to step on it.

XII. [in my body] I feel dead like a tree. I feel alive like a fossil. this xray is also a photograph of me. these sheets are also clothes for me. I don't know anything but that everything returns here.

xx