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A fine summer day,
to hold your hand and walk the beach.
To lose ourself
in easy conversions and comfortable silences.


A fine summer day,
to be by myself.
And
remember you.

...

"No, there is no such thing as love. Just attachment. And sometimes lust"

Excerpt from my diary.

...the time of obvious understanding that your people were still your world.

It sucks to be stuck in the vicious cycle of nothing and everything. Where the fine line between the right and the wrong gets stepped upon so much, that one fine day, it conveniently disappears. And you don't even notice. Days filled with a constant chase to meet the ends meet. All in vain, of course. Nights of dreamless sleep and dreams on sleepless nights.

No, it's not as bad as I make it sound. It sure can be better. But isn't that the story of our lives?

_

All in a day's work

The usual hustle-bustle consumes the office while I dedicatedly stare at the screen. The words will come. Only it seems a tad harder today. (And I claim to be a writer)

Blossoming laughter hits my face, urging me to pluck my eyes off the screen. Must. Not. Get. Distracted.

Someone is trying to strum a tune. No, don't rape it please. It is one of my favorites, y'know.

The chatter reaches a crescendo. And then the girl dressed in formals barks a loud Shuush. What follows is a lull. And then a flood of hysterical laughter.

Yes. Advertising agencies are no less than mental asylums.

Your deranged Valentine

Tonight,
Let your eyes bleed for me
Let the memories feed on your insides
One stab at a time

Tonight,
Count your labored breaths,
slathered with the stains of reality
as the claws of solitude
snatch away the comforting disguise
of your blatant oblivion

Tonight,
My relentless love,
Let out your soul
Crave me, hate me,
and ever so slowly - kill me.

Aftermath

She blinked open her eyes. The brilliant wash of sunlight hit her face. Only this time around, it mocked the darkness that was booming inside her.

She shut her eyes again and let out a deep sigh. Was that the piercing sound of uncertainty that enveloped her? Or the blatant silence of those false words that now made her bleed from the inside?

She bit her lip and let go a sniffle. Was it really so unholy to give in to temptation?


_

Blink

At first,
the world goes into a frenzy.
Senses experience a chaos.
The hand doesn't know what the foot is up to.
Like your mind is on a trip.

Then the realization hits.
And slowly, brutally
everything slows down.
Time drags
and it brings along
misery, hurt, betrayal.

You shut your eyes,
only to be awakened - inside.
No, its too easy to smile.
And easy is the toughest part.

This.
Yes, this is the end.

That moment when you step back and ask

Why is it that childhood was so sweet,
summer so bright,
and grass so green.

When was it that childhood was taken over by a mad rush to grow up.
And a mad rush to be what you dream to be.
And then when you walk along the path towards your dream, suddenly you crave for the careless times, eating mangoes in the summer, wearing nothing but a tattered dress.

Why, is it that in this mad race do we forget to actually LIVE, as it were. Those moments of pure bliss are rare, if they occur at all that is. And the smile fades away and frowns take over almost as if the smile is an evil notion.

It’s a crime, they say, to stop. One must constantly work and run and sweat. But then, when to recover? When to heal? Is ignorance truly the need of the hour? Or rather the need of an entire lifetime?

I'd someday like to meet the one who spreads such philosophies. And over a warm cuppa tea, ask him when was it that he formed the ideas that rule our minds today. For I believe (or so it seems logical) it really can’t be when he lived in ignorance.

Humm

Beating drums,

Splashing water,

Fluid thats red.

Blank white paper,

Untuned guitar,

Purr of a cat,

Unsuspecting sigh,

Door slammed close 

Loud. Very loud.

Elevator

Dark night

Unconnected headphones

Closet locked

A stare, a start,

A falling teardrop

Silent. Very silent

Hurricane

Racing car

Trip down the memory lane

Voices

Voices of past

Voices unknown

"Don't waste your time on me

Your already the voice inside my head"

...

I have been meaning to update these pages but I have been a little lost these days. Its hard to find your center what your anchor itself is floating. Its quite overwhelming, the events that have been unfolding. I wonder where it will all lead to.

I feel like a mere spectator of my own life.

Walk Along

Fire & flames,

Chimes & choir,

All things good,

All things bad,

Walk along

Times that were,

Walk along,

Times that are,

Walk along

A distant echo,

A shy smile,

A stiffened giggle,

An angry rant,

Walk along

Times that were,

Walk along,

Times that are,

Walk along

A soothing voice, ruffled hair,

Moments of fiery passion,

The sheets tell a story,

A story untold,

Walk along

The demon of a mind that is

A bully, a mirror,

A book in the writing.

The pages that never fly away,

Till its time has come,

To be swept away in waves,

Buried down under,

Or burned in the holy fire

Times that were,

Times that are,

Always walk along

Illusion Airlines

Welcome to flight number 603,
your trip will begin from reality to la la land.

This flight will be piloted by Imagination and co-piloted by Confusion.

You will be shortly served by
imaginary creatures, rapists, thugs,
naked ladies, aliens or anything else you desire.

You can also conveniently choose your location
from among cliffs, aquamarine, space, barren lands,
shady corners, playboy mansion
or many such attractive locations
mentioned in our catalog.

The calculated time of your journey
will be shortly told to you once you have been served.

Some passengers may experience turbulence during the journey,
we suggest you to take necessary precautions beforehand.

We wish you have a pleasant and euphoric flight,
and you reach your destination fully satisfied.
Thank you for choosing us,
we are glad to partner with you tonight.

How to stop your yelling mind from talking to you.

I checked my phone for the 56th time. No reply back. I don't even expect it you know, I know it will not come. But still.

Snap out. NOW. isn't it enough for you to feel all bad and sad and mad and all the kind of shit?! does he even care?! does he?!

Well, I am sure he does...

OK, if he does, what the f is he doing about it? what? WHAT!

...

sorry, did you say something? 'cuz all i heard is the god damn noisy FAN!

Amm, listen, i don't need all this right now. Please. Just like go away or something.

And leave you sorry soul to feel all the more sorry for yourself? ha? guess what? Not happening! NA AH!

*sigh* ... Amm, How 'bout some South Park?

Sounds good to me! VOOHOO!

*THE END*

A bit of me

There are pieces of me
Lying here and there
On the bed, under it,
Around the corner
On the cupboard.
There is a bit of me, everywhere
Waiting, waiting for me

A part of me for you my friend,
Here,
You take some too,
You get a bigger piece ( you know, I love you)
You get a chunk too

Bit by bit I give myself away
Affection, feelings, warmth, love,
A lil token, saying I adore you,
A lil bit of affection,
In pieces
I let myself live
In the live of those,
Loved by me.

These pieces then call out to me
Neglected in a corner they lay
A little shattered
A little heartbroken
A little mad at me
For letting them go

I will reach out to you,
My dear ones,
I will collect you soon
Soon when the love runs out
You shall return to me.

Tales of the lunatic Soul: Fire

I stared at the white space for long. Poets Of The Fall blaring in my ears. I wanted to write. Thoughts were buzzing in my head like bees over honey. "Calm down" I said to myself "Calm down!" but my mind is rebellious. It never listens. I think its karma - what goes around comes around. Yet, I won’t give up. Nah-ah! Not possible.

I tried to catch snippets of thoughts that flashed in my head. I ran like a maniac. They were fast. And they evaporate. Puff! And they were gone! Even before I can think them over. Like flings. Like sparks. I feel the pressure building. I need to express. i NEED to calm down. N E E D.

The white screen was screaming. I had to do something. My mind was on fire now. Funny it was, the cause of fire unknown, yet it really sting. Heat. Burn. Crumble. Agh! No, not anymore!

Hibernate *click*

Errors? Terrors?

What happens when a mind wonders? Why is it wrong to think some thing wrong? Who defined it? And why doesn't anyone question it?

I make errors. All the time. Am i demented?

I make comments. I make fun of things that tick me. I'm not so politically correct. I may offend people. Am i anti-social?

I make weird faces. I make people laugh. They love me and they hate me too. Who gives them a right to stereotype me as "the funny one" ?

I love with arms wide open. I loose temper too. I give hugs and slap hard too. Am i a terror?

If I love the sea, does it mean I love the mountains any less? Why cant I love cats AND dogs? Why the questioning look when I say she is a pretty girl? Why the disgusting look if I say "oh a hot guy"?

Who r u to judge me? I'm not a piece of art. I'm a terror made of errors.


I'm fun though! ;-)

It's better to burn out, than to fade away!

Kurt Cobain. Oh! what a loss! Such great music, splendid success and a tragic end. It’s all so sad!

These are the last words of the legend himself. There has been horrid speculation after the cause of his death. Its been said that his wife, Courtney Love had him murdered and the note is not a suicide note. Cobain never mentions his own death. But even if this is not his suicide note…his words have left its mark…


"To Boddah,

Speakings from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complainee. This note should be pretty easy to understand. All the warnings from the Punk Rock 101 Courses over the years, it's my first introduction to the, shall we say ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has been proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to, as well as creating music, along with really writing something for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things, for example when we're backstage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowd begins. It doesn't affect me in the way which it did for Freddie Mercury, whoseemed to love and relish the love and admiration from the crowd, which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any of you. It simply isn't fair to you, or to me. The worst crime can think of would be to pull people off by faking it, pretending as if I'm having one 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as though I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on-stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it, and I do, God believe me, I do, but it's not enough. I appreciate the fact that I, and we, have affected, and entertained a lot of people. I must be one of the narcisists who only appreciate things when they're alone. I'm too sensitive, I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasm.But, what's sad is our child. On our last three tours, I've had a much betterappreciation of all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music. But I still can't get out the frustration, the guilt, and the sympathy I have for everybody. There is good in all of us, and I simply love people too much. So much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little sensitive unappreciative pisces Jesus man! why don't you just enjoy it? I dont know! I have a of a wide who sweats ambition and empathy, and a daughter who reminds me to much of what I use to be. full of love and joy, every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable self destructive, deathrocker she become. I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along and have empathy. Empathy only because I love and feel for people too much I guess. Thank you from the pit of my burning nauseas stomach for your letters and concern during the last years. I'm too much of a neurotic moody person and I don't have the passion anymore, so remember, it's better to burn out, than to fade away. Peace, love, empathy, Kurt Cobain.

Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your altar. Please keep going Courtney for Frances for her life which will be so much happier without me. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU! "



Make of it what you wish.

Tales of the lunatic soul: I find solace in darkness…

I…
I sit curled in the corner of this room. I’ve buried my face in my hands and shut my eyes so tight that they hurt. I find solace in darkness…

There are bars on one side of this tiny room. I feel like I am being watched. I part my fingers and open my left eye. Though I can see no one, I can still feel a strong gaze on myself. Shuddering, I close my eye again and cover up with my fingers.

There is light in this room. I can feel it even with my eyes shut. It comes from the room beyond the bars. There are other people in that room too. I can hear them talking. Ah! I don’t like the sound of humans talking! Why do they have to be so loud and pretend to be so cheerful? I don’t like being with them either, they are fake and they live in the light. I find solace in the darkness.

Occasionally someone comes and stands on the other side of the bars. They give me a fright! I shut my eyes even tighter and further squeeze myself into the corner. Sometimes, they just stare and go away. Sometimes, they laugh at me. I abhor humans when they laugh! I cover my ears with my hands…but the light…the light shines upon my eyes…oh! I hate the light!

The people outside these bars often talk about me, in hushed voices. They think I can’t hear them but I listen to it all too well. They say “it’s a tough case”...”treatment isn’t working!”…”no improvement”…once someone said that I might even die without being cured. I wonder what the trouble with me is…is it that I hate humans because they are more like chameleons, changing colors only too often...or is it that I cant stand the light because its bright...blinding…and overpowering!...it conceals the truth...it conceals the darkness...if that is it, I don’t want a cure!...i hate the humans…and I hate the light…i find solace in darkness…