I blinked and was cut by a knife
i bled, i bled, bled it black
black i bled and the blood was mine.
though i couldn’t help to wonder
that blood should have been red forever,
when i’d die, only thn it’d change this colour,
black it’d become turning deeper and deeper
as l’d lay there… getting colder and colder.
It should be black when i die,
but i’m alive…. am not i?
I’ve been living it, whatever it is.
you were there in it
i could feel you so livid,
me with you in all your needs
was all i needed,may always need.
but seems u’ve disappeard all of a sudden
were u produced out of thin air, an apparition…?
Is it illusion? Was i living a lie…?
tell me, Do i always have to bleed
to know if i’m alive…?
This is a piece I wrote in my toughest time–when i faced faith being broken for the first time–almost 5-6 years back. I remember all of it. But somehow it doesn’t hurt that bad.
I neither get it nor deserve to talk about ways to attain it until I do attain it!
Oh, how all these fat loud fucking mouths of drugged, eroded, jaded and left-out misfits have been talking so much about peace and love without getting it!
most used and least understood! I must keep myself from thinking about these and should never look for these ’cause it’d be giving into advertisement and not the truth for truth is what happens.
Association is tough to make without feeling. And if any one of the emotions is stronger than the other, association is more lopsided and less factual. Let’s make a scene and try to identify our association with it. So, you were driving from office to your bank for some quick thing around noon. You plan to return to office by 2 PM maybe. It’s around 45 deg Celsius and now you hit a traffic Jam and red light after red light, people are acting much more annoyed by heat and insane horn blowing and no way out visible and everyone’s going berserk and it get even more jammed! No traffic police shows up either. All the noise around blends with silence now ’cause it doesn’t matter or make any difference now.. you think… you think about the moment. You think of an ice-cream, of your friends, of your family… you think about getting late for bank and then about why you now required to go to bank… things begin to huddle up in your thought from past. There can be fear, frustration or indifference… there are in me. And from within that lens, you see the reality.
Repetition of same sounds over and over again for so so long now, nothing changing even for a moment… it’s a cage with no walls to break out of.
… like a mirror being burnt from behind.
Nirvana to Pink Floyd to Tool to Opeth to Porcupine Tree to Audioslave and Radiohead to System of a Down to Mastodon to The Dillinger’s Escape Plan to Melodic Death Metal to Classical and back!
Everything’s much more profound… The idea of characters is a smudged rear-view mirror ’cause some writer’s imagination has always been filled with desires and futile attempts to put that in words which cannot be. What largely takes the sheen away from it all one unknown wednesday afternoon is the fact that everything, everywhere is a story. The deception of perception is the darnest lie ’cause it can never be guessed where this river of your ability to ascertain truth is poisoned with what you’d wish to be true ’bout you[some day, any day… any fucking way]… you can no longer decide what’s veritable–in worst case, ’bout yourself–and require ‘them’. Their presence in landscape of your thought marks a point-of-view for self affected by what all enslaves them. It’s like going to the most popular bank and buying what all they are paying debts for… ’cause you couldn’t handle it all by yourself. There is no balance. There is no goodness or bad-ass. There is nothing like positive of negative attitude either. Nothing is for free ever! Associations, affections, indulgences, noises, voices, smells, tastes et cetera, all the things which make us wanting to live also create fear of losing it all ’cause there is human existence without all of it too and winds from that land often make our morning quite hot and humid. The most fucked up fact is that we require to compartmentalize our thought, our perception to keep living. For most of ’em, sanity is thinking and feeling like the rest of ’em, making fear of being entirely alone implicit–it’s okay to fear losing job, money, a cricket/soccer match maybe et cetera. Even falling in love–which is so highly sought for and revered thing ’bout being alive–is practically nothing ’cause it IN FACT IS NOTHING! It doesn’t mean anything, it’s no action, not a conclusion… maybe more useful to the marketing people than to myself! The girl might not share same emotion, the world outside the camera lens is still the way it was yesterday–callous–my abilities, chances for survival, grasp of fearlessness, immunity against pathogens… everything is exactly the same! But, the stories from books, movies and everywhere else has glorified this nothing more than anything. There are only truths… and truth is what happens.
… I am living to reach fearlessness; before I attain that, I ain’t living. Materialistic possessions are weakness–I often find myself in a fix when I am asked what I want to buy… there isn’t anything any more which i’d want to own by buying.
I have seen them weak, sad and wanting to break down, give up and run away to anyone except themselves. I listened to them, said things to keep them from having to say ’cause I could see they were receding. … they were in no state to put on anything, they couldn’t be hiding anything… they were lucid, lurid, jaded and naked.