train
spot light after spot light zoomed past. with intervals of sheer darkness within that narrow tube.
in the opposite window pane is my own reflection. with a greyish hue.
together with those sitting on my row. listless. shifty. restless.
the subway was fairly crowded.
some people were standing; some were sitting.
some staring into space; some chatting; some napping; some reading.
it's another day in sunny humid Singapore.
it's just another day. like every other day.
our eyes meet for a fleeting second. many pairs of eyes. an interchange of looks.
the children, the frumpy aunties, the old uncles in shorts n smart executives.
we're all observing each other, one way or another.
this urban jungle is densely populated. beasts of trucks and cars; tribes of workers in long sleeved collar shirts; deities in Benz and BMWs.
this city is crowded. activities flurry everywhere.
carnivals of local delights, satay under the stars. rounds of beer in the rows of pubs.
in the hintherlands of this tiny tropical island, are GRCS where people live in high rise caves.
each family their little holes, which most members leave at 7am and return at 7pm.
in each of this cave is a shrine where the god of sights and sounds dominates attention.
it is believed that this god which lives in a box can entertain, amuse and educate.
supposedly, this island hypes with noise and night life.
however at the other end of this urbanized spectrum,
is loneliness and isolation. it is silence and solitude.
it is nonchalance and a resignation to fate.
a fate of monotonous repetitive drudgery.
work to feed. eat to work. love to reject. reject love.
looking into everyone's eyes for a second.
staring at their clothes, shoes and facial expression.
i wonder.
who shares the same thought as myself.
who else longs for a breaking of the bondage chains?
who is having an affair right now? who had an affair?
who wants an affair right now? a fling? a one nite stand?
fantasizing of someone they wish to have sex with but never could.
no guts. married. impotent.
we all want what we cannot have. a better someone and somethings.
we want more than what we already have. more is enevr enough.
a taste of the sweet aged red wine. so luscious and rich.
consumes the soul, the mind and the heart.
who wished that their cell phone will beep now, bearing a text from a special someone?
a text message that you've been waiting all day from someone who've been obsessed with for almost all the time since you've first met. everything you have ever wanted yet you know little of.
a special someone who is shrouded in a mysterious aura. captivating all of your senses.
a special someone who has the powers to controls one's mind and consumes all of one's energy, emotions and sanity. enslavement, like free love, is a choice.
what would that text message convey? reciprocation; rejection or nothing. nothing at all.
because the special someone chose not to care.
who else, although in a stable loving relationship, seeks for thrill, excitment and novelty?
life so predictable and mundane.
stable loving relationships only disfuse a stale mouldy stench.
who yearns to make love wildly all day and skip work for 2 weeks?
just stay home to copulate; because the person in bed, next to you is so desirable.
i am sure that i am not the only one.
millions of thoughts run through million minds.
some choose to pursue their dreams; some choose to live in fantasy.
some choose to delude themselves; some choose agony.
as the clock ticks by, loneliness, isolation and rejection resounds.
the city never sleeps. who are you in bed with now?
a heart sings a lonely song.
posted by Veen @ 10:52
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