Hang Tight Cane

  Hang Tight Cane

“Come this way Mr. Cane, I’ll direct you towards her office”

The secretary led me through the hallway into an immaculately furnished office, where a woman resided on a large rolling chair. I sat in across her after she greeted me with a cordial smile.

“Hi, I am Dr. Sarah Nelson from psychiatric hospital of boroughfield”

“Yes, I am aware of your esteemed profession Ms. Nelson, in fact it is actually in regards to your notorious book Schizophrenic identification in adults that I was aspired to fix this appointment with you”

“Coming from an ex militant, I would take this as a compliment Mr. Cane. So, shall we get to your problem?” She took out a pen and notebook from her purse, wrote something on it and then placed it upside down on the exquisite table before shifting slightly in her chair.

“Oh yes Of course. So here it goes” I paused for a while and took a huge gasp.

“There is something wrong with me. Ever since I got back from the war, I haven’t been the same. For once I keep seeing my old friend in arms. I see him popping up in the supermarket, in my living room and even in the office. What is even more distraught is this specific phrase that he keeps yelling at me.”

“What does he yell at you”

Hang tight Cane. That is all he yells

“And this friend of yours-

“Walter yes he died in the war, back then” I finished before she could reach any other conclusion.

“How often do you see Walter then?”

“Well, When I got back from the war about five years ago, it was only a soft whisper but with time it starting getting louder and louder until it was almost booming. Right about then the voice faded and I started seeing him. His occurrence has been increasing ever since.”

“Have you had any physical symptoms that might have been the result of war”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was shot in the head on my last day in the field. Went right through my skull, the bullet”

I swiveled my head sideways and showed Dr. Sarah the scar which had left a small area of my head hairless.  I Continued  

“After that I’ve had been experiencing some severe headaches and I tell you, they do not go away. Just like the voices, it intensified with time. Sometimes I even bleed from my nose, due to its severity”

I noticed by then that she took no notes at all and seemed deeply interested in me.

“Tell me about your wife and daughter, Cane”

“How do you know I have a wife and a daughter, are you spying on me?” I started to rise from the chair, now feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“Please don’t go away Cane, your wife, daughter, those blinding headaches, they are all imperative for this process to proceed lucratively. Please trust me.”

I sat once again tumultuously and a little afraid of what she might say next.

“Your wife and daughter, they are not real. If truth be told anything that happened after the war is not”

“What do you mean? Are you crazy?”

“I will explain everything Cane, but first you have to tell me your account of how you were shot in the head and what happened afterwards. I promise I will explain”

“Okay. I remember Walter was shouting for the ammo in the ditch while heavy shots were being fired from both sides and then a cold metallic pain surged through my skull and I fell unconscious”

I paused for a while as my headache came back. I continued forcefully

“I don’t remember much afterwards. I think I was brought to the hospital. It is all bits and pieces.”

Ms Sarah once again shifted in her chair

“You Cane, never got back from the war. Why do you think you don’t remember anything after the war except that you came back straight to the city?”

“No, No I remember all those five years after the war. I Married my fiancé, I had a daughter. Jesus, I even remember buying a gift for her third birthday. How do you know so much about me, anyways?”

For the first time in the whole meeting I sensed her to be uncomfortable

“Bear with me Cane, I am- I am actually not a Psychiatrist. I am you. Well a part of you actually. I am your subconscience . Anything that happened after the war has been the modeling of your imagination. Your wife, daughter and anything and everything in between. To put it in an understandable and more sensible way, you are dreaming. All these five years were.”

“But I remember every moment, precisely” It was as if I was assailed by someone.

“Yes exactly, because you are still dreaming. When we are dreaming, we know every tiny little detail of what we are dreaming about, it is after we wake up that we start to forget.”

“So, what exactly happened if anything?”

“You see, after you were shot, the pain in your head was so unbearable even in your sleep that your subconscious-that is me” She pointed towards herself and continued

“I created a whole different reality for you, to cope with your pain. The headaches were a physical manifestation of that pain, So deeper that is by time I got you into the dream, the more your pain subsided. Let me make it even more clear. Tell me where I got the doctorate degree?”

“You said so yourself at the start of the meeting, Boroughfield.”

“Thank you, and where did you fight on your last day at the war?” She asked this time with an awkward smile on her face

“At Boroughfie- Jesus, does that mean”

“Yes Cane your reality, the field where you fought. We often inspire our dreams with shattered pieces of reality. Some from here and some from there. Now one last thing that ought to assure you that I am your subconscience . Pick up the notepad and see what I wrote on it at the start of this session.”

 Reluctantly I picked it up and there is was three words staring at me

Hang Tight Cane

“How did you know I was going to tell you about this”

“I am you Cane, I know exactly what you are going to do. It’s part of the job. Now, it is time for you to wake up, you are ready.”

Slowly I closed my eyes and opened them again. The picture of the office substituted with that of the ditch, where I lay in mud and blood. The pain in my head had reached an epitome.  Then came the recognizable voice of Walter

“Hang tight cane, we’re gonna get you home.”

(Its okay if you didn’t fully understood it the first time. Its a bit complex)

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Trapped.

Slashed wrists

Sleeping pills

No remedy

I have missed

 

Sad songs

Scarred souls

Why am I

Not whole

 

Dreary eyes

Dry thorat

Tell me where

Do I belong

 

Broken ribs

Balcony jump

Why can’t I escape

From this spiteful earth

-my holy brother

spectator.

who me, nah! this isn’t my blog anymore. my brothers taken over.


 

Life is sometimes utterly cruel to us; When the strings fall right into their places you realize that they ripple a motion you can never go back from. I was brought into at a strange place they called home, where i came to such a conclusion.
After being left in the room with an awkwardly isolated girl Sarah of no more than eleven, who rather exuberantly, to my surprise, welcomed me to her room, though dull and dainty it was, I began to try to fathom my purpose. In the coming days, I realized that this girl whom i did not know at all would reserve herself from the outside world and would astuteness herself on me. Mumbling and jabbering everything that happened in the school with her. From the boy named Charlie pulling her hair to her history teacher’s profoundly disturbing habit of chewing her nails.
Through the talking and the stories Sarah became familiar in an eerie sense which felt wrong yet so compelling that i pushed this feeling to the crevices of my heart. My affection for her aggravated when on one afternoon, while having a a delightfully enjoyable tea party, she said a phrase which changed me forever
“You are my favourite person in the whole world”

There is only so much happiness one can feel when it is about to be snatched away from them. A similar occurrence happened at midnight when she was dozing and her father came into the room drunk and profusely smelling of liquor and cigars.
In a saggy walk he stepped towards the light and adopted an unnaturally precarious stance while wearing an expression that exuded callous energy. As if his aura physically manifested, Sarah woke up, adjusted her vision to the man in her room and for an infinitesimal moment contemplated the situation and then slowly walked towards him, worried that like an infant baby he might stumble and fall. Before she could reach him, his finger went upwards to her face and with quivering lips, and hands he muttered forcefully

 

‘You should have died instead of her. She gave birth to you and you killed her”
With that his pointed finger abruptly fell and his florid eyes released tears stroking down his masculine face and disappearing into the beard; he hurtled out of the room leaving Sarah alone with me. I could see conspicuously that every word of his was an arrow into her heart. She stumbled onto her bed as if exhausted by what had just occurred, curled up around the blanked and started sobbing. I, on the other hand, couldn’t comprehend why i could not help her at the moment she needed me the most.
The following day, when he came into her room with a stoic posture and a gleaming smile on his face that i perceived he had no recollection whatsoever of the night before. He had prepared for her school lunch, which he gently placed inside her bag and then and let out a debilitating yawn.
‘Were you asleep last night, when i came home, sweetheart? I don’t really remember what happened.’ he said distraught.
‘You went to your room and slept’ She said this so easily that even i could have believed her.
‘Okay, don’t be late for school’ he kissed her on the forehead and went out of the room.
You could hardly believe a man of an affable characters as his saying such heart wrenching things about his daughter, under the influence. What was even more heartbreaking was Sarah’s reaction to the incident. It seemed as if she had been accustomed to such cruel visits from her father.
Sure enough, a week later the pungent smell brought the calamity with itself. Yet again she had to endure the vicious and contemptuous remarks of her father and act like nothing had happened, the next morning. It was after several visits later that she confided in me the clandestine reason why she did not reveal to her father of his actions.
“It would devastate him to know what he said to me’
It was appalling that a girl of eleven possessed such wisdom and strength. A girl nonetheless whom i fell in love with. Who remained stringent on her choice despite the immense and sensational pain it stormed upon her. I, however, though found it quite eccentric that she would keep it to herself, this burden, wanted nothing but for her to be happy.
I could never interlope and save her when he would come to the room. Considering everything, this was the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. Watch someone, for whom you have brimmed affection, and love be ridiculed in front of your eyes, only to know that you are helpless in stopping it.
Several weeks passed and her birthday came, which was really an exhilarating time. I could not wait for her to show me her whole house , which she had promised me the day before. For the first time I strolled with her out of the room; every room and corner of the house seemed like a different world to me. In this new world I discovered a strange object of esoteric nature which i could not identify.

 

This object which Sarah revealed to me was called a mirror, which gave me perhaps the greatest tremble so far. When i peered vividly i saw a familiar figure staring at me through it, Sarah. She pointed towards where i was supposed to be and whispered
“That’s you, my favorite person in the whole world”
Only I was not a person but a hand stitched, embroidered pieced of clothe stuffed together into a doll.

Perspective

this is the best. she is too good. check out her other poem guyyyss. this one iss toooo good

alternativesunnydays

Above the world, 

beyond it all,

we sat at the top of the Ferris wheel.

Inky, endless night surrounded us

as we looked, and we saw

the world from a higher perspective.

The way the lights twinkled,

Neon, tinted with spirit.

And that the people looked

how we must look to God in the heavens.

We were stoned on youth.

On dreams,

on love.

Only sixteen,

only just beginning.

But then

in the middle of wishing,

I fell, from the top.

Down and down until here, and now.

And came to find

that the pretty lights stop twinkling

once you’re on the ground.

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The Flabbergasted Romantic

no i did not write this, it was my brother. again.


 

Threw the drink on my face

And yelled

How could you?

So I ran

Before she could reach for her shoe.

 

A cheater she called me

But I told her

“Though there were just two

I only ever thought of you”

 

Like the heavy makeup on her face

She wouldn’t budge

And forgive this slightest mishap

She is the one

That my heart cherishes

 

To surprise her

I bought a cake

Which somehow found it’s way

Onto my face

 

Such an aesthetic accent

How can I live without it

Please don’t go away

With your exotic scent

 

This time

I won’t object

To your scratching head

Or the colonies of lice

That parade in it

Never would I complain again

When I am plucking them from your hair

 

I am Romeo

To your Juliet

Save the poison

We are perfect for each other

 

Why can’t you understand

That you are the one

One

For whom

My heart goes thump

Thump.

 

prayer

okay so i am sorry i havent been here for siome while. Internet got out for a really long time and i also had to deal with studies and a writer block. but anywho, since i can’t write anything these days, heres something written by my brother.


We do not understand you intentions

When you bring such hues with yourself

Which bling the watchers

And leaves them spiraling in your thoughts

Smilingly we take the blow of your piercing gaze

Not realizing what hit us

 

Absolve us from this ceaseless nightmare

For this is a blissful dream

That we will get used to

O heavenly splendor,

Gently break our hearts

And fade away

 

For the sake of our tormented hearts

Don’t curl your tresses in such a fashion

That the night starts singing

And the day chants

 

O heavenly splendor

Don’t give your butchering glances

To those who can’t handle it

We are distressed

So have mercy in us

 

Keep it to yourself

This tangled tale

We do not wich to be your victims

So absolve us from your deadly snare

 

May god bless you

With the same poison

You have inflicted on us

So you may have a taste

Of our sorrow

 

 

whirl and twirl.

my friend, pragya has an AMAZING, like seriously beautiful  poem published on wordpress. I will out a little um…excerpt here so you guys know what I am talking about.

As summer breeze, I whirl and twirl
O’er hills, basking in the dawn’s aroma;
Reapers carry their sickles, little curled
I, behind, tailing them, lass and grandma.

hence, give it an honest rating ( although she certainly doesn’t need my help )