u called up this morning
unsure as to y
it was nice listening to ur voice
after such a long time
seemed like ages
an edgy conversation initiated
result of a lot of anxiety
bottle neck syndrome
u call it the wasteful nag
nag was it ?
bore dom
a respite from the mototone , regular , an erratic escape
and met with resolute , composed , curtness
it almost killed you
a rage surging ahead , almost gushing out of ur mouth forming words u dont mean to say
apprehensive of the reaction and the response and yet wanting desperately to vent off that stupid blob in ur mouth, a piece of shit ,from the wretched brain , a formation which despite sincere and honest efforts ,u have not been able to discard , like the wrong horn , it enemges , and always at times when it embarrases you the most

the climatic conditions seem to be conspiring as well
hot , wet , sticky, clammy
u cant even sleep in the nude, much less swim
u wonder how long its going to be the 'good girl' story
and even after you have learnt there is nothing called good and bad
in the stupid , irritating confinment of the norms , budget and the claustrophobic phone booth, a not too alluring voice on the other side , u feel you are dying ,killing what evr remains of the day and the life

"cant this man understand my plight and atleast make a fake effort of alleviaiting my mood" , you think
ur affection forcing an incomprehensible irritation , the results of which ur afraid may end everything , even the little that u think exists
"men" u guffaw when you hang up
self obsessed , reckless with the important emotions , oblivious about the compelling moments , the hugs , the touches , the langorous love making and the longer foreplay and after play and the talk...
"gosh, whats with them "?you cry aloud..."