The Wait

The wait is sometimes so delicious.A seething sense of antagonism rises in me.It will quell soon.No worries.I have experienced such endless waits before,and I am quite impervious to their power over me now.And yet,even now,like a faded memory it comes back..the sense of the deliciousness of the wait and the annoyance it brings.It gives me a sensual pleasure to sense that I am sitting so still.My hands are moving over the keyboard,and the whole body is still.Completely still as far as I can notice.There are no thoughts intruding my headspace right now.A single though occupies the empty recess of my brain.--I MUST WAIT.I am not even listening to any music.Which is doubley strange.I only music which I like when I am in such a laid-back-with-no-desire-to-twitch-a-muscle mode is either Radiohead or early Floyd.It's depressing as some might say,but sometimes when the inner depression is being echoed out..it's soothing.I even think that i degrade myself when i call it 'depression'.It's needs a cause.I have none.Maybe it's emptiness.A hollow emptiness.Just like in monuments with high ceilings which aren't corroded by tourists.Where softest whispers are amplified,as if by the silence which hangs in the space b/w the canpoy and the floor.In my case however it's like the noise reaching to such high vibrations that no sound is heard anymore.A quiteness which isn't due to non existant noise,but a noise too unbearable to be recorded by the ears.Dizzying isn't it?Or plain stupid ramblings..don't blame me,I was waiting ,and had nothing better to do.