Tomic Riter

Tag: shortstory

  • Past sleep.

    A little rain makes the landscape greener. I look at the 20-feet tall pigeon sitting outside the glass window. It’s eyeball emerald studded watches brainlessly. Am I registered as an enemy? I wish a door was provided for an escape. But now I have to sit here under eternal watch. Its wings almost metallic. I walk to the window. It beats its paw on the glass, probably denying communication. I bite into an apple and sit in a chair. It’s raining again. The tree spread out their branches to absorb as much as they can. I finish eating and watch the pigeon. It is now looking away from me. Acknowledging the impossibility of an escape, I put my head down on top of the table and wait to run out of time. I wake up quite later. It’s still evening. A clock hangs but it faces the other side. I find myself in my chair with an empty plate on the table. I look towards the window. It’s clear. Nothing is sitting outside, nothing is watching me. It stopped raining but not long ago. I get up and walk to the window. I can climb out of the window but I do not. Were I to go out, where would I go? How long would I be gone before I am back here? Won’t it be easier to confront the reality of not leaving than to return to the same place? I move away from the window and sit in the chair. Maybe the pigeon will come back.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Near a folded newspaper.

    somebody talks in the other room

    about what, I cannot say

    maybe some revolution

    I am turning colder

    my legs close to each other

    my hands folded

    I look up towards the source

    of all this untimely chill

    outside, a green river flows

    washing off man’s dirty footprints

    late noon, the chill fills my room

    I cannot sit in comfort

    for lack of choice, I have to.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • This isn’t Kafka.

    Somewhere around one third of finishing this book, I start losing my shit. My speed decreases. My mind is somewhere else. I hate to think. I stop before reading another page. I keep the book down. Were it Kafka, I could have bought cigarettes and smoked all night. But this isn’t Kafka and I cannot buy anyways. I am kind of stuck. The remaining two third needs to be completed as well. I am not interested in knowing how it ends. Books with endings I hate to read. I hate stories that try to make sense.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • In other world.

    As I read about a man without a shadow, I fail to comprehend it. Does not having a shadow affect that man’s conduct in any way? Can that really, finally, make him feel lonely? As a matter of fact, I have neved lived without my shadow. Even in absolute darkness, a shadow exists, only its colour is the same as that of the darkness and hence its outline cannot be recognised. But it exists and it hardly breaks unless the body itself breaks. The shadowless man makes me think all this. Had I not read about him, I would have been going along fine.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Quarter to evening.

    swollen veins in my body

    free from sweat

    free from a fear

    I sit full of pain

    orange light fills the room

    next to mine

    somebody has arrived

    another family, another kid,

    another television running

    another bunch of unnecessary talks

    I walk myself away from the light

    an hour later, I start forgetting.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Just gazing above.

    I will sit for another hour

    until the last particle of light is gone

    but soon a disturbance will come

    flying towards my body

    and I would be surprised

    if that is not able to make me

    move from here

    to some other place

    until then, I will watch gold

    drink gold, grow my neck stiffer

    just in case the blade lost its sharpness.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Before time.

    Darkness is gathering around me. Were I new here, I wouldn’t have been able to walk even a step. After thirty minutes or so, I return. A barking dog roams in wet skin. Now and then, something lights up, but not for long. Cold is becoming hot and I cannot do anything about it, about anything. No song has got a voice. It’s just me searching for a new addiction. A man climbs the road and where will he stop? Where will he stop if he ever decides to.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Collapse.

    I had a desire. I had to go home to fulfill that desire. Once I was at home, the desire was gone on its own. I didn’t have to make any effort. I simply forgot. No pain was brought to me in forgetting. Then, another desire arose and soon it was forgotten too. Just like that. I lost the will. Nietzsche used to say that will is important to live. He eventually committed suicide. The same noise fills my each day. I could walk out of here but this world is vast and it seems out of my reach. Between me standing up and me walking to the door, I am really not aware of how much time elapses.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Covering slowly.

    blue has legs

    it covers all the white space

    it can flow

    if you look at it carefully, you will find that it can

    a subtle movement

    towards the west, grey is bursting out of white

    towards the north, a painting hangs, all white

    cloud fucking cloud

    shit bags like Picasso could never make such an artwork

    time to travel south but I do not know where

    I watch them who know and are traveling.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Drunk in no rain.

    I have a perspective. While I write, I just write shit. There is no truth to find in my words. All of it is all that I have found. I am tired of thoughts and opinions, tired of seeing people talking and doing nothing. It takes less time and minimal effort to act than to talk and talk and talk. I do not know what men, most of them, are up to. By the time they have spent three decades of their life, they realise that they are nowhere, they are struggling to crawl out of some deep swamp. I am tired of watching that, and I am tired of watching man pushing himself in such a swamp. Big fucking idiots. All of them.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.