A little riddle.

I hide in plain sight and shift between what’s black and what’s white.

I give you a reason to fight, yet  I will make you question why.

I close at the open and open at the close what am I?


de le’Absolut

Another cold place, another shattered dream.

Perhaps, the order of life is tied into the random and the unexpected.

There are times when all the shivers that run down your spine aren’t worth it.

You feel cold with a glass and a packet and a bottle and a gun.

They’re not all here.

Some day. some other time.

Save seven, unhinged nine.

all in me, except a bottle of wine.

I don’t need your shit.

I seriously don’t.

Brutal, twisted world.

So dark, yet so beautiful.

Fever dream.

Packet of lies sold.

Buy truckloads.

Intoxicate yourself before its late.

Find your beautiful funeral.

Catch the bait.

All part of the wicked plan.

Catch your part.

Before it dissolves you.

All that you know and desire.

up in wisps of smoke.

Kill your dream or destroy yourself. make your choice.

Find meaning in all this absurdity.

Is it all numbers and integers?

we’re all creators. before we fall.

into the abyss of all that uncertainty.

all those dark corners that my shadow follows me.

whispering of dark futures and disturbing pasts.

all my life trying to find meaning in the absurd.

this existence, it pales.

before all i feel and experience.

Perhaps it’s all an illusion.

an illusion of absolutes.


Glitch in my coffee.

As I sit and sip another cup,

mourning over the loss of pure childish innocence

the lack of brightness behind these closed and boarded up windows.

it bothers me.

howyers changed the lines that trace through my hands.

they reach the boneless soul of my existence, theypour

all that is needed, but never quite as much as I want.

like a hole that void.

nameless whispers that talk and seep into my dreams.

they tell me of stories yet untold.

they are of darker nature than I would be able to swallow.

It’s all biscuits and coffee this life.

you might want some tea once in a while.

some mind to juggle up your breath.

but that’s all the space I was ever given.

Adapting is changing yourself.

I feel conflicted.

But this glitch in my coffee.

The Slit.

Night after night. My head is haunted by visions. They are gruesome and sometimes, terrifying. Maybe it has to do with the kind of phase I’m going through in life. It is ugly. Humanity as we know it is turning into a rotting carcass and we are surviving off cannibalisation, not just in the sense of eating up each other for our own progress. But also, in the sense of the culture of death. The culture of stringent values being imposed on free souls. Indoctrination of the masses. It’s paralysing and soul-shattering at the same time to see a species so high in potential, grasp and level of intelligence has literally stooped to the level of anarchy and the literal standstill in terms of foresight the older generation has.

The escalation. It frightens me. I shake as I write. Again. I wish things would be better. But things never do. It’s like a giant spiral dragging you down and the faster you go, the more chaotic it gets. Until nothing is left except trying to hold onto what you once held dear and near to you. Only, everything changes. Friends become foes. Family become strangers. Strangers become acquaintances. Maybe it is my misfortune that I have been born in such an age, such a place. Things never really worked out that great for me. I was always.

The Underachiever. I don’t see things linearly. Maybe it’s my curse. My personal eternal hell. Is it so wrong to do what one feels right? Has humanity reached such a tipping point that right ceases to be wrong. wrong ceases to be right. All that’s left is the desperation. The moving along, the finding a fucking job. The finding a fucking cheap imitation. Killing yourself plastic coarse hypocritical mass murders inside your head. They don’t stop screaming. The visions. Brother killing brother. The infinite slaughter. Of all that was, all that remains.

A rotting carcass. Rivers of blood and spine-curdling screams. Where is your god? Where is your mercy? Is it background score for the little child that sits and cries day after day looking at the blank stare of her own mother, once animated full of life, a beautiful soul. What has your god done for her. Where is the humanity. Instant Slit.

They all slit. My knees turn into purple blue jellyfish and all I could see were chairs moving, chairs smashing down. upon heads. Upon feet. Upon all that’s left. It smashes down like a slivered nightmare. It’s a purple mist that descends after all is lost. It’s a severed limb, this joke of a humanity, that we call it.

Mockery for everyone. We have fruit punch and potatoes in today’s special of massacre served with a cold side-dish of despair and hysteria. Run for your lives, while we drink your blood through and through. One lives while millions die. Is this equality. Is this where I rest my head on. Contamination amok. All creation runs foul. one way or the other. One day or the other.

It’s all a circle seesaw merry go round before they kill you in your sleep. They blind you. It was just manic laughter till the blood spews out. And the day it did, it was ugly poison. They drink and rejoice while I kill myself a little slowly one day after the next.


The Slit.

Chaotic Visions I

Seconds are passing me by, and it’s futile.

But I’m looking for maps yet unknown and wondering if they’ll lead me to new places.

But what is new, and old when your life is a straight line.

There are no jagged curves and violent heaves.

Without an extreme, it feels synthetic.

Like a machine all alone trying to find its purpose in the universe.

The bull without a master is the most dangerous of them all.

Do you prod it with an iron stick? Or do you make it one of your own?

How do you tell the illusion from the mistake?

Do you pull the curtain back before a flabbergasted audience?

Do you let them drown in self-ignorance and let them discover the method to the madness?

Isn’t it all just a rumbling criss-cross of jumbled-up motion and intertwining fates on top of a speck of a dust?

There are no higher purposes, what if it’s all made to just be.

A giant test.

An experiment.

Starts with self-medication.

You slowly incapacitate.

When it’s just not visible anymore, you become your own test-tube.

You toss one chemical and then the other, hoping for an even bigger illusion.

Something so synthetically cheap and poisonous to yourself, that it helps you to see, to feel.

But you’re not there yet.

More chemicals. It’s a kitchen party and we’re all inviting ourselves to this giant experiment.

Still not there yet.

The fix eludes you.

This doesn’t feel real. Nothing does.

Not until there’s pain and love and sorrow and ecstasy. Nothing feels real without it.

Was this the giant plan? Are we so fucking numb? Are we so fucking dumb?

Where’s the colour. Did it all bleed out the day we twisted and churned our world into hues of gray

Black, white and pistol-shit

Death and desire, Sin and Sex.

If the world was inherently good, we’d have to be evil to feel, to know it was real.

To see the truth behind the lies, the dumbing down, the constant conformity. Feeding the chaos.

Killing the inner eye. Working for the man. Not sticking it up to him. Slowly decapitate ourselves.

To see what matters. For patterns start to emerge everywhere. Everything connects.

Once you’re ¬†disconnected enough. from everything.

From prying eyes, from the chip in your brain, from all the unnecessary sound, from that painful ring in your ears that screams.

Screams and screams and screams. It cries hoarse. You have to fucking hear me. Why don’t you fucking listen?!

From the big man in the sky, that kills all that lives and all that dies.

Do you see the giant TV show, it’s playing out on a chessboard.

Three. C. Pawn to King. Decapitate.

E Seven to Be Four. Replace.

A warp machine is being created. Distorting the signals in our head. Its creating a giant fucking abyss.

Tearing apart all that thrives. Making mothers shriek. Lifting children up and then throwing them back into the war, like they did before.

The endless cycle continues.

The Destruction of Constant Ideals

‘Malviya nagar. Darvaazon se hatt kar khade hoye.’
Downward Spiral. Infinite Loop. Again.
The monotony is mind-numbing. So much blood in a tiny little hole.
It’s been a while since I posted anything on this very deserted blog. It seems like the oasis right in the middle of the Kingdom of Alexandria. Everybody knows its here. Most people probably don’t give a fuck. The trains don’t stop moving. The wheels keep spinning. The need to freeze time and go back to where it all began shows itself. Would you, if you had a chance? Is it all fucking worth it anymore. The constant back and forth. The buzz. The noise. The chaos. So much constant unsignificant motion. It is the migraine in your brain. The needle in your vein. You want to scream and make it through. But all you can hear are your own silent whispers in the dark. Our self-made illusions. Hallucinations of a curious white rabbit going still deeper down the rabbit hole. Would it be worth coming back? Unto the other side. Can you feel the rust?

It seems that life is finally starting to catch up with me. All random variables will follow a pattern. Maybe seventy layers deep into the mind-numbing logical mathematical functions we all know. But somewhere hidden deep is the pattern of nature. Mother Earth does follow a plan. We just haven’t been around long enough to know it. We think we are kings. We know everything. Humans are ignorant. Everybody is at some level or the others. The problem is pride, ego and humanity.
Where is the purple clock which rocks back and forth through hypnotic nightmares enchanting us all. Its lost in brick, sand, stone and the bullet.
Destroy. Reproduce. Regenerate. Repeat.
We still have solutions, we still have time. Do we?
I wish I could break patterns, but there is always a pattern. So breaking a pattern is simply like life itself. Unbreakable and after a point, pointless. After all what is the answer to most of the greatest scientific discoveries of the last two milleniums? Just words, numbers. Functions. With exceptions. Knowledge lost and found with unpredictable catastrophes. Buried in the sand. Destroyed in the dust. Lost in bloody wars.

There is no meaning.

The Greater Good.

Just got off the phone with someone. Name withheld. Since obviously it’s not good to take names and shit when you feel negative. Noise blazing all around. It adds to all the scary suffocating lack of air in my room.

Sometimes it’s okay to feel totally fucked up. Maybe one of the reasons I hate social engagements is because it always in one form or the other, brings us to a question of social or moral acceptance and denial. I say why bring ourselves to that stage where we have all these feelings. they all do nothing but just conflict us and make us question ourselves. why the fuck would we want to question ourselves. We’re all a little volatile on the inside. just the degree varies. This brings us to the question of what the greater good is.

Is noise a form of music? I believe it is. There are hidden harmonics. Millions of them that people think is shit. I believe its beautiful music. It’s the imperfection that makes everything perfect which is a state of irony. For something imperfect to be perfect would be a crime. Sometimes its great to be arrested. Fuck Hypocrisy. Fuck opinions and all the people who give half a fuck about it.

Back to the question of ‘the greater good’. would you kill half a thousand people to save a million? would you ever do the wrong thing if it meant better things in foresight? would you fight with somebody just to make sure things don’t go wrong later? It is a question that can break your bones. And I think I’ve experienced it. Literally.

You either die a hero or live long enough to turn into a villain’.

Coincidentally, I went to this brilliant play today. It was an amazingly crafted musical. Everything ranging from the music to the dance to the ridiculously crazy humor was nicely crafted. But then again, I’ve never been to see a proper theater play and this was probably my first time. Didn’t exactly seem like it was ‘spectacular’ to my friends. But nonetheless, I thought it was great. First time always hits you, I guess. with everything.

More about that later. or Maybe not.