A Beautiful Liar

By - - 5 mins read

“You aren’t smelling of coffee. You are stinking of it.”
I nodded saying, “I know.”

Staple pins.
Delicately carved thin metal skins!
Stacked up in its family bundles.
Bright and shiny,
Sharp and smooth.
Making empty houses,
Waiting to pierce
Thick flesh and toned bones,
Staple pins.
Oozing red love off skins,
Scrapping and tearing,
Chewing and biting,
Meat and dead meet.
What a greeting!
What a treat.
Staple pins.
Delicately carved thin metal skins.

I could have slept but this won’t let me. It doesn’t pain, it doesn’t hurt. It’s the sound, it’s the noise that’s bursting my eardrums and spanking my brain. My mind is not my own and my blood is making its way to belong to someone else, to something else.

Staple pins.

Delicately carved thin metal skins.

One word, one staple pin. Thick flesh and metal scrapper deep. Sharp and blood stained. Ouch! It’s the noise again. I feel I’m a piece of art. If I haven’t been, then I could be one. They could preserve my body or just my bare arms and adore the deeply pierced staple pins that calmly float in the upper layer of my flesh. It’s like these pins want to sun bathe and how I wish I could tell them that I’m a keeper of my own darkness.

“Come on, love. Talk to me. I know this is a tough time for you, but it is also a tough time for me. Seeing you like this isn’t easy. It’s been a month you stopped talking. The last I saw you was with your book and pen and see where it’s got you. Your imagination crushed you but you crushed me. You’re speechless but sometimes I think you’re heartless. You cared so much more for the characters and plot of your universe, you cared more for your readers. And, you forgot me. You forgot that I was your first reader. You’ve been so selfish, so full of yourself and the stories you create made you forget the world
you really belong to.”

I wish I could ask her to shut up. I can’t. My wife is beautiful. She’s a beautiful actor and I adore her just like how the other men do. She has a beautiful face. She had a soul so transparent that I could see through to who she really is. But, the better actor she became the darker the colour of her transparent soul became. It’s all black now and I love black and I love the darkness. But, I love my own darkness too much to sink into hers.

Well, she is beautiful. She’s a beautiful actor and a beautiful liar.

The psychiatric ward is a good place to be. People move too fast and people move to slow. Some rush and some slow down. I observe. I observe them all. I’m supposed to be a voluntary admission, by the records. My choice and decision was taken away from me when they took away my pen and book. Life is cruel, always. Seeing that it’s worse for others, should that make me happier?. Medication, group therapy and individual evaluation. So boring! When I pop pills, the staple pins floating in the upper layer of my flesh, itch. They itch a lot. It feels like it’s clawing deeper and now, it’s not the noise it’s the pain that hurts. The pills have been reacting to metal in a horrid way.

I’ve been numbed too many times. I’ve been injected and shot volumes of unknown liquid. That’s when this happens. With every word I speak, a staple pin gets pierced and emerges magically on the top layer of my skin. I’ve 50 staple pins on my left arm and my right. I must have screamed. I don’t want to but it’s not in my control.

“You aren’t smelling of coffee. You are stinking of it.”
I nodded saying, “I know.”

“No, Greg. No, you don’t. You’ve had more coffee than otherwise and I always cut you some slack. I save you but you can’t have your medication right now. You’re stinking of coffee. It won’t affect. I’ll schedule your medication slot to about two hours later.”

Lisa is always been good to me. She takes care of me. I’m really happy to have found and known a human with good intentions. But, none of this makes me like mankind.

It’s time. It’s that time again. It’s time to get shot with mysterious liquids and injections. I’m high on coffee. I’m fueled and charged. I won’t scream. I won’t.

My body is made numb and I’m told to shut my eyes, this is the usual. I can hear them count numbers backwards and wait for me to fall to another universe. But, sleep doesn’t come to me and I don’t go in its search. I’ve drowned myself in an unending ocean of coffee. I’m bathing well.

I feel wet. This is weird. If I open my eyes they’ll know that I know and I can’t let them know that. My robe is soaking in blood. It’s dripping from my skull. I can’t move but I can feel. I’m swimming back to reality. They’ve shaved my head off and pierced my skull. They’ve implanted metal skins. They’re planting the staple pins. They’ll tell me I screamed. This is real. This is as real as reality can get and I’m not shocked. A part of me knew that I wasn’t psyched. A part of me knew that my wife was. I confirm this when her words fall into my ears, “Now no one can let this crazy whack writer get out of here. He looks like a disaster, just like we planned. I hope he feels like one, once he gets up.”

A kick of reality, the taste of truth and fallen words; I pick myself up of what’s left of me when I’m supposed to and behave like expected. I don’t know if I was psyched, but I now know that I want to be.

“Love, I can’t see you like this. Are you doing okay? They won’t even let me near you. They say that unconsciously you did this to yourself. I don’t believe them, Greg. Irrespective of what they say, you know I still believe in you. You know that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll make a way and fight back. I’ll get you home, okay.

Greg, “I miss you.”

I looked at her. I had the same fake tears in my eyes like the ones that she had in hers. It’s been months but, I touch her today. I feel her palms and arms and make way to her lush long hair. I gently hold her cheeks and face in my palms. I feel her neck. I change the mood we were in. I give her time to play along. I want to see the actor in her come to life.

I pause and say, “I miss you too, darling. I look like a disaster but I don’t feel like one.”

Staple pins.
Delicately carved thin metal skins!
Stacked up in its family bundles.
Bright and shiny,
Sharp and smooth.
Making empty houses,
Waiting to pierce
Thick flesh and toned bones,
Staple pins.
Oozing red love off skins,
Scrapping and tearing,
Chewing and biting,
Meat and dead meet.
What a greeting!
What a treat.
Staple pins.
Delicately carved thin metal skins.

 

 

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Aekta Khubchandani

A doodle artist, a basketball player and a crow lover. She has her mind travelling to places unknown but, she loves to physically travel too. For her, good food and good coffee are therapy. She also believes in magic. Her life rotates around hallucinations, dreams and visions. And, she likes to see things differently.

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