Disappearance.

A figment of the universe
A fragment of time
tis’ all that’s left
of this mighty warrior, once brave
wore a gold vest
eventually we melt

crave.

a year past, and the same familiar circles
trappings of my own, a comfortable bunker
evermore safe, while the war rages on

in his mind, in your heart
a death of valour, the funeral of the forgotten

a seldom wisp of remembrance
the past, and the future continue to whisper
to me, a sandwich of entrapment
designed to kill, peanuts with spikes

splintering your cell.
the mind stays awake.

time and again, dripping nostalgia burns
etched into your soul like a beautiful fever dream
it shines like a bright star
above your hell.
some days, you are surprised it’s still there
others, you tell yourself not to care.

oh, sweet nothing prayer.

why must you call me back.
to the end of my eternity!
why must you torment me.
trapped in between the gears
friction slowly rots the bones
here, another ice cream cone
you will feel better
it all means something

secure delusions, unhinged dreams
alas, what truly is a sweeter poison –
a raging night full of green
or the daylight scream?

doesn’t it all feel the same now
the colours don’t stab me.
beautiful, bloody irony
to feel too deep.

A gift.
A fucking curse.

But all the same.
Severed corpse, but an intact spleen.

Disappearance.

in another seventeen.

Fear Talks

The setting was impeccable
flickering lights, foul winds
shattering glass, hurricane ring
The prospect however, quite terrible
the bitter cake in front of us, barely edible

‘Let us begin now, child’ fear tapped on the table
with its fingers long, dark and brittle
Unavoidable as this chance encounter was
I could already sense it going south, thumbs twiddled

‘Um.. How do I begin? Where does this start and where does it end?
What came before? the chicken or the egg?’
I asked, expecting a reply, barely holding back a sigh
Fear sneered itself into a mocking scowl
‘I do not know. Ask another question’
And so it continued one after the other
All to no avail

And thus, went the night
No sudden fright or icy spine-chilling roller coaster ride
Just an inert presence slowly fading away into distant memories
And once time was up, fear did not need
to disappear or even continue with the sneer

For the most lethal and darkest of fears
are not quite what they might seem
made not of tears or unfinished beers
not of companions found or lost
to the depths of time or even spectres in the rear
none of these situations perhaps even come near
the true depths of real darkness as it might appear

nay, the true destroyer is the question
the silent whisper in the back of your head
on a lonely rainy night, you very well know or you might
that silent whisper that slowly asks you to give up the fight
it’s all quiet and serene before its begins
a violent internal riot
tears you up, smiles as you slowly and slowly
choke your own dreams, kill your own means
until all that’s left is a few spare beans
nothing radical as you die watching tv in your jeans

there is perhaps another vague voice in the back
of your head that talks slowly while all the lights get whacked
and then before you know it, you killed it
every single cheat code hacked
while you play your video games
silent bliss oblivion
no desire nor fight left
it disappears and stays at the same time
reduced to not a even a nickel or a dime
ladies and gentlemen,
I present to you.
The power of the human mind

Bravo. Hurrah. Hallelujah.
Now, die.

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?

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.

Granite’s Lament

2014-06-15 16.01.42-2

I am the stone behind the image

I do not make you who you are, I break you

because I decompose

much like everything you have ever composed

Hard as a rock, but everything crumbles

tumbles and fumbles but visually humble

I do not want your trouble

I came here to warn you

The scratches are permanent

we are all sideways, bent

placate yourself in the crime

before they catch you, scarred

the old man’s stories are all but true

you’re not mine but we are all a distinct shade of blue

the lament is mine

 

I was once a distinct flavor of wine

before I was sent back inside

from the earth, to the earth

Ground, shaken and stirred

like a dry purple martini, severed

time passed by in seconds

like in hours, I incubated in thirds

oh, the worlds

that I have seen, what you might never be

but what lies inside

the work of a beautiful mind

within all of us, a wondrous land

the candle burns slowly through the night

the lament is all but mine

The Ship That Sailed Far Too North

My life has always been a kind of oxymoron.

A walking contradiction.

Mirror inversion.

 

I have seen rejection.

I have felt the sound of collapsing waves.

 

take control of wandering minds.

before I took it apart.

 

The crash is inevitable.

when you swim in murky waters.

 

you knew it all along, didn’t you?

It was.

 

It wasn’t meant to be.

you were stranded.

 

but you watched it fade.

day after day.

 

you ask why.

that ship’s already sailed.

 

they said.

with a fret and a shrug.

 

times change and so do I.

 

What’s to kill is to buy.

 

you prick and you pry

 

but we did try.

 

you and I.

 

We never.

 

Fly.

 

past differences.

 

motive and ego.

 

A disturbing childish game.

 

who is it to blame?

 

is it me, is it you?

 

is it the sky, so violently blue?

 

what sets us apart?

the paths we pursue.

 

the method and the madness.

intertwining.

Question and Clue.

 

I ask the whistling breeze.

it replies in whispers and codes.

 

The only path, after all.

is the road that stretches ahead.

 

No more sea, no more to see.

what is to be, will be.

 

My world explodes, and all that was is far past damaged.

I walk.

When The Gloom Kicks In.

My life is a scissor pale zigzag.

It goes from bad to worse to fucking amazing.

It’s a spiral road into infinity and back.

It is the worst possible trajectory you can imagine.

A hell-hole that promises cheap thrills.

only instead of making you feel any better, it only consolidates the promise that things are only going to get more difficult and fucked up.

You want to sit and chill the fuck out. but nobody gives you the freedom to do that. you’re in this cage of a system. pumping shit through, in and out of you. It’s one big fucking vacuumed vortex of pressurized shit that only gets heavier and heavier as time passes by.

things get distorted. visions get blurred. paths are not clear anymore. you can’t remember where you were five minutes ago. you’re fucking confused and you don’t know where the fuck you are anymore. you’re spinning through space and time at several miles an hour and you cant feel anything, and yet you feel so much at the same time, its nauseating.

Before you know, you’re being packed into a little tube one millimeter square big and pumped through the universe at the speed of light. it’s disorienting.

you don’t know where you’re going.

You’re Lost. You’re Lost.

When The Gloom Kicks In.

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.

sometimes, things don’t go as you plan. You tell yourself you know exactly how things are going to happen, that you’ve got it all covered. That it’s going to be like clockwork, then the world goes all topsy-turvy on you to make you realize plans don’t amount to shit and all you have is you and your skills to make it out at the worst of times so that hopefully someday when you make it out of the dark cave, you will have a garden of eden waiting for you along with a group of people who’d want to stick around with you after all the shit you’ve been through. But you never quite really find your way around the cave.

The Cave