I am burning harder than before,
I know, I am a wildfire myself
I am burnt, I burn
I know, it hurts you too
but darling, I cannot help it at all
I am burning like ashes, that you turned into
inside and within every lyric that you sing.
Oh, my beloved, I am away from home
I know, it was not hard to fall for you
but falling out of love kills me alive.
~Rks
I have met admirers and those who are above
Those who don’t spare me a glance
And those who don’t care
But what I crave is meeting someone
Who can speak the language of madness like me
Who can recognize the demons dancing in my eyes behind the veil
Who can communicate with me eye-to-eye
I’ll hear whispers of his skin,
And screams of his soul, without touching
I want to feel ablaze, get ignited
By rage, anticipation, intensity, and unsaid feelings
I have met many people in my life
But now I want to meet my end
The bane of my existence, my undoing.
There was a natural order to the world, a system that could not be interverted. Taking a life was unnatural, something against the very basic cycle of life and death. An act of such severity tainted the energy around it.
~Gothikana
"Steer clear of me, little crow." he muttered, his eyes piercing, flaying her open. "You might be a luring siren but I am no ordinary sailor. I am a mad pirate and I am trying to resist your call. If I land on your shores, I will plunder and take away everything worth having. Be very careful giving me those eyes."
~ Gothikana
🖤
"You need to be less obvious when you driff off. We all do it but I can't let that slide without reprimand in my class. And I don't want to bring attention to you."
"Why?"
"Because you are bewitching," he murmured "And I don't want others fantasizing about you during my class."
He smelled of dangerous adventures and coming home, of heartache and nostalgia.
"I love you. And you've taken everything from me. You've taken my entire heart and soul and my ability to love another. Sometimes I hate you for that. Sometimes I wish I'd never met you. Because now that I have, now that I'm in love with you, I'll never be able to carve you out. You said I'd bleed out before that'd ever happen, and you were right. And I hate you for that."
"I'll never get tired of hearing you say you love me, and If you ever stop, I'll put strings in your lips and make you say it."
Then he leans down closer until his breath fans across my cheeks and whispers, "But I don't believe you."
There were always a few things
I knew but did not understand
and then I met you
You made me understand
how beauty can be deadly
how silence pierces our souls
how kindness can be cruel
how innocence manipulates
how people can be pretty,
and ugly and sore
the deception of beauty
the lies of good
the truths of malice
how submission can be a trick
and betrayals; provoked.
"Would you do it?" I question, looking up at him. "If I asked, would you, spare his life?"
"Yes," he responds. "I would kill for you- I have killed for you, but I would also put down a gun and never pick it up again if you asked it of me. The lengths I would go to for you are terrifying, little mouse. So easily, you could destroy me, and I would lie down and take it. I don't care if I live or die- as long as it's all for you."
"Don't say that," I whisper.
"I don't lie, Adeline, and I'm not going to start now."
~Hunting Adeline
A rich and mighty Persian once walked in his garden with one of his servants.
Orphans make the best suicide bombers. It is easy to motivate them because they are willing to do anything to belong.
Kashmir taught him that only a fool trusts anyone completely.
-Shaikh Ahmed Uzair Sufi
Money does not interest him. Power interests him. And people. Having the power to get people to set the world on fire for him.
He thinks about his life, and the choices he has made. He has never regretted coming to Kashmir. He found himself here. He found that he revels in the chaos of conflict. In fact, he thrives upon it. He has also discovered that it is not the call of God that motivates him to violence. He has found that he has a taste for it. Sitting the throats of those men in Shopian gave him an inner satisfaction. In a strange way, he even understands the violence that is being done to him. After all, if the roles were reversed, this is probably what he would do to them. It is this kind of reasoning that has kept him sane until now.
Everybody breaks under torture, and anyone who says anything different, like the sermonizers who go back to Pakistan with rousing tales of having resisted the Indian interrogators, is full of shit.
It's all propaganda, to get more enthusiastic, but dim-witted, volunteers for 'the struggle.' He has discovered that ninety percent of this war is fought for propaganda. The lalas try and convince people that Pakistani terrorists, backed and trained by the feared intelligence agencies, are invading the peaceful land of Kashmir to stir up trouble.
I have a theory about him. I don't believe he does whatever he does for religion. I mean, that's what he tells his followers, and the other jihadis. But he's not like them. They have either been misled, or they have their own twisted version of what is right and wrong. They are willing to give up their lives, but he isn't. He plays with the lives of others. He's a survivor. Life is like a chessboard to him. But he is the only one who sees the whole board, who understands perfectly why he does something and what the result will be. And he does what he does because he enjoys it.
~ The Spinner's Tale
"A man is not strong unless he has seen pain in his life. An he cannot serve God unless he has that inner strenth."
~The Spinner's Tale
If you don't have the courage to spill someone's blood, you cannot bring about any sort of revolution.
I sensed Christian spying on us from the window. His words came back to me. "Borderlines are so seductive." I looked into Alicia's eyes. They weren't seductive, they weren't even friendly. A fierce mind was behind those eyes, a sharp intelligence that was only just waking up. She was a force to be reckoned with, Alicia Berenson. I understood that now.
I was transfixed, staring at Medusa, turned to stone.
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