A Note Before Death

The sticky notes in my room never get tired of being used to be written and stuck on my walls, unlike the love we had.

Rather than remembering myself to make things done, I most of the time use it to code my secret messages which whoever reads can’t understand. I write my heart out in acronyms and metaphors.

I gently paste on the walls. I look at it every morning as if the walls whisper my secret stories to myself.

I hold my pencil red. I draw a heart. And write ‘WOASOTPOAL’ which on expanding gives “Words Of Snail On The Plate Of Leaf”.

I wish I could have read Silvia Plath’s The Courier before I accepted the love and the false promises it carried for me.

I write much more. I may seem to be a psychopath who writes senselessly. But honey, you gotta look even deeper to know how senseful my poems are. I bury a universe of secrets in another universe with my words.

My poetries are the proofs for the occurence of nested universes- quality of being one inside another.

They may all look gibberish to you. But they are all literaries about how I lost myself in the process of loving oneself, not realizing I’m failing to love myself.

Come have a look at my art on the walls. You will exclaim those universes are black holes. Now the time for sticking a faint blue colored sticky note has come. I stick it to be remembered. I wake up the next morning.

I read, “Blades, veins and liquid red”.

Now I make myself an entity of the nested universe.