Tomic Riter

Category: story

  • Riding back home.

    I wanted to ride further on the road, but I decided to ride back home. On the way back, I found a vegetable seller lying dead under a sheet of cloth covered with fresh vegetables. He was lying on the left side of the road. I stopped there for a while. His boy was standing there, waiting for somebody to buy the remaining vegetables. They won’t last longer than a couple of days and after that the rotting will begin. No gut can digest rotten vegetables without consequences. I bought some vegetables from the boy and dropped money notes in his dead father’s open palms. For some reason, he seemed alive and while I was talking to his boy, I felt he could listen to me. I put the vegetables in my bag and rode off, and before that I smiled at the boy and he smiled back at me as he waited for another customer. Half the sky was clouded. It did not rain that day.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • After a bottle.

    All the bitterness I can feel at the bottom of this bottle. There is no way I could have reached the bottom directly. If I could have, I would have thought about it. The journey was a couple of hours long. By the end of it, I was quite alone. Quite alone. In my experience, light begins to fade. That is a lie and a fact. You might wonder how is that possible. I would say that it is possible and it is happening right now as I type these words for you. Another bottle won’t do much harm. All the harm is already done. It is a slow, never ending mending of these bleeding gaps. I am incorrigible, damaged beyond repair. I wish to hit the bottom and die there. One last sip before I jump into the heartless chasm.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • The ache travels upward.

    An ant tries to find a way. A cleaning mop dries in the open. Three gigantic puffs of cloud are drifting west. Soon they will envelop the sun, and when they do, the sunrays won’t be able to reach me. On the street in front, a boy caught a bird, it is as flat as anything could be. No width, no height, no eyes. The boy is trying to make it fly. It is so light, so lifeless. The boy steps onto it as he waits for his friend. The three clouds have become one in no time. You cannot say which was which as they all flow together. The sky turned golden for five minutes. Now the light is getting pulled away from here, going down with the hot ball. A cloud burns red as the sun falls through it, making a hole in its stomach. When I look up, it looks like somebody crumpled the whole sky. As I decide to sit longer, all the movement as in now begins to cease.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Just writing.

    These days, I am writing my second book or what can become my second book. The words keep coming. Really, there’s nothing to writing once all fears are removed. Nothing is insignificant, or everything is. Once that is truly realised, there’s no stopping you.

    My first book ‘Dying in Living’ which is a poetry book is available to buy on Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords and several e-book stores. If you are a PayPal user, you can buy the e-book directly from this website.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE.

    Thank you for being hearing and reading my words. Have a great weekend!

    – TOMIC RITER

  • While it aches.

    Half my body aches, but I am in no hurry in getting rid of the ache. There are things to do to propel this life through this night. What if I fail to do those things? Will I see the morning? The thought makes me stop doing everything. Outside, people come and go as another day vanishes from my life. When I think about it, a problem really never grows. It appears bigger inside my head. A week later, it will be nothing, whether I am dead or alive is entirely another matter. Man sticks a knife into another man’s flesh for certain reasons, most of which appear to be basic in nature. How much is he really guilty for wanting another kick in this joyless world. Outside, something is getting dragged, like it is a bundle of thin metal pipes. In this hour of night, where will they be taken to other than to some corner for mild rusting. But all of this is just what appears to be. On the fourth day, there’s an urge to break any routine that has built up. On fifth day, the routine gets broken. The reason behind all of it is forgotten. After living all this time, I can remember only so much.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I returned before my time.

    There is an effort to compress time. Every man is under pressure, ready to burst on something. Nothing will be revealed except morals and puss.  Steam leaves a vessel inside an unknown room. Really, what is the use of a broomstick here, or of these night bulbs. Somewhere, an orphan cat is roaring. Going out of control scares me a little. Between me and Death, not much distance is left now. I am thinking about you as I comb my beard. The sun hasn’t shone since a week. All the roads are slowly disintegrating. There is always a problem that can kill a good sleep. If I open this window, is there anything to watch? The possibility of it alone can deliver a permanent shock to me. Impossible is not a limit. Some things exist beyond that, and I sometimes wonder what they might be. The idea is quite enticing. Walking down three flights of stairs could have been a holy act. But what if it is done everyday? What about simply opening a door? Or forgetting to wash your face or brush your teeth?

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Last night.

    Last night, I dreamed and that’s all I can remember now. I remember more than that but I cannot say if any of it is true. Alcohol seeped into my unconscious, awakened the subtle fears. I am not free but I know the path to freedom. Owing to laziness and unnecessary sleep, I lack the will to pursue that path. Buying alcohol gives more satisfaction than buying food, despite the idea being foolish. Another day of riding miles on empty roads that cut across the green swampy fields. I ride back and forth to memorise a landscape. Too far seems scary. Before I reach too far, I always run out of time and sunshine.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Riding on a wet road.

    It won’t be wise to ignore the obvious signs of danger. I am not as far from my destination as I think I am. Night awakens the noises that sleep throughout the day. Still, a night is better than a day. And the problem lies there, in my likeness for the night. Inebriated, I feel quite alert and brave. I can be a drunk orator. Even a drunk monk. Riding few miles on a dry road isn’t the same as riding the same few miles on a road clogged with rainwater. Dry road feels better and while riding if I die then the satisfaction will be far more than when I die on a wet road.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Alive before dead.

    Two hours later, my legs began to freeze. It wasn’t winter. The winds were blowing against me. And I was riding too fast. I opened my coffin and prepared to lie down in it. As I sat in it, I thought about the next day and how the sun won’t exist anymore. The winds had paralysed my eyes. Had I to see a thing, I would have to wait for another life. That seemed far and quite uncertain. Living again through all this was unfavorable. In the short time between lying down in my coffin and falling dead, I wanted to find my freedom, never to be back alive once again.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • A personal inquiry into reading.

    A million books out there to read, but when you want to decide to pick one of them and read, it becomes a herculean task. Browsed a hundred books but not a single is found appealing, even remotely interesting. They all are talking about social issues or environmental issues or some historical event of one or another kind, and if not that then self help books are always there to fuel one’s illusions of what is what. Everyday, so much crap is being published. Lines and lines of bullshit written under the influence of some emotional or psychological delusion. Truth is unbreakable but look at how frail, blood-devoid it sounds when read in the lines of these books. It is a sad demise of something that should never die. Of course nothing is immortal, even long-lasting but for as long as a man lives and breathes and is capable of being aware, a few good and simple lines must be there, waiting for him to discover them.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter 2020 . All rights reserved.