Skip to main content

B is for Experience

I have seen a hint of the danger. A smoke screen to the unimaginable. Some call it darkness. I call it Experience. And it is a teacher with a sharp tongue and an even more stinging wit.

I imagine it sitting in a corner, rocking in the shadows. Which is funny since Ex is old but not feeble. Still, it rocks. Waiting. Waiting for someone to whisper a plan over drinks or strap on their heels on the path. Then it rises to come forth. Guava whip in hand, just like Primary School days, to teach a lesson.

Ex… experience…  it doesn’t correct you just yet. You have to give the wrong answer first. Then comes the lash. And for every answer wrongfully delivered, another comes till you’re either sore or numbed.

Who is Experience’s Master? The Heaven? The Hell? You. You are Ex’s Master. It would have stayed there in its rocking chair had you not called it up. Like a medium, you control the Experience, though the pain tells you differently.

Soon you’ll be salved. The right answer comes and you are salved and saved. But experience leaves a scar on you and maybe, a limp.

As it returns to the shadows, to the chair, you smell the sulphur… you see the smoke.
Experience was here.

February 9th, 2013


Popular posts from this blog

B is for Loving Boys

90's boy love - Joey n Chandler....
a moment of randomness between Catharsis videos

There are boys I love. And they love me. And we’re open about it. Just last Saturday I got a text message from one of those boys who said “I love you too man” in response to something I said. My boys are artists, artistes, atheists, and agirl (who is in fact one of the boys so hence the addition to the category) fathers, brothers and high school musicals (Jed and Umar will get that one – lol). We share ideas, music, random nothingness and Brent Worthington . We approve, reprove and listen to each other. I think the girl that I end up with must in fact be like the boys I love. Good looks aside… please… have some substance. One of my boys is appalled that I watched Gossip Girl (if you’re going to bash it… know what it is first) and has for this [and other minor reasons] jokingly labeled me a homosexual. But he who looks like Miley Cyrus with rainbow bandanas should not talk [chuckles]. I love my boys…

Play of the Week WK #6

B is for The Haunting October

--> I first felt it in the shower. Nostalgia. Creeping up my leg and resting on my shoulder. Bony fingers caresses in that sickeningly sweet way nostalgia often does. It was the end of September or the beginning of October... That night in the shower when I remembered an old October, reading poetry at a wine factory; with sandwiches as big as your face. And I remembered two tables. Friends and a girl. And it was October. The sealing of fate. 2008.
Days passed but not before the memory of darkness and a knife. The surgery that changed me... And it was October. October or go to Heaven. 2007.
Time passed and so did my expectations. Fluctuations in blood flow in the head causes heart to flutter for another. Infatuation of the highest order. The beginning of tears and sighs of"it's not fair" and the wandering nature of soul; I'm done, turn me over. And it was October. All my queries I vowed to shelve. 2012.
And Sunday. When I threw the scroll and claimed I was don…