Thursday, April 28, 2011


The need for flagellation is intense,
Like the will of death creeping and
At bay... The doc's medicine is working,
Stopping it at the doorstep, a step at a time.

The need for solitude has never been
So fiery but, the fear of it more potent
And effervescent like epsom salt.
Bubbling at every stimulus my brain reads.

Why does it require for a man to fear
Liberation over tyranny of self?Why
Isn't the sea full enough to quench his
Thirst for novelty? Evolution at its best!

The Sapiens should grow a tail and dwell
On foliage while the apes may take the
Scepter and rule with instinct and preach
Instinctual liberation. Or maybe its just me.

Yours Truly...

One of those days...

Its one of those days when the sun sets
In the morning and the moon is eclipsed
At night. The seas and lakes are like a
Murky film of oil floating on astral forms.
A day when suddenly happiness and joy
Fizzles into a despicable air of heavy gloom
With menacing abruptness. Even the shade
Beckons you and then pushes you away with scorn.
The distant phobia lingers in again like the
Unexpected ring of the telephone wired to my
Brain and being. Like you- my spine who holds
Me up straight and then suddenly pushes me away
Making a reptile out of me. Its one of those
Days when the dusk is dawn and the dawn- dusk.
The last ingredient in this potion of misery
Was added with an ever so precise stealth but,
Unintentional nonetheless. A sudden rise of thorn
Between our sheets out of nowhere, from the
Sleight of your hand and straight into my injury.
Thy will has been done whoever you are.

A perfectly adorned evening, poised to be ever so
Sweet and passionate, doused by the sands of
Infallible nothingness. Without reason, without
Mercy, without a name. Just tore everything apart,
Made nothing out of everything and everything out of
Nothing without us being the cause. This itch never
Ends though the lines have ended.



My mind posted an ad in the classifieds-
I am sick, impoverished and scary,
Seeking lookalike minds. Contact
Me when in coma or when vegetative.

Whether days went by or years ran their
Weary course I couldn't figure. But it was
A long time since, when between a
Suspended night a mind knocked at
My lobes. It was comatose.

Numb, parched and pungent, just the
Way I like it it said. Many a vegetable
Came and stayed in my cranium since
Then. All of them hum the same tune,

Everyday, everyday! They hum and sway,
Pray and go astray, as if being pulled into
A whirlwind of endless chatter of sliced
Thoughts, images, words and perceptions.

The skull does not burst. Its tough, its hard,
Hard enough to not let the captive be free
But, dull enough to not let the walking ones
Know of the death noise and unending,
Riotous fury within.

All coming at once, with a violent force,
Adamant and sadistic, rips the neurons
Apart but the transmissions don't stop.
A constant dissection of thoughts and

Just leave my existence. Let me be. Don't go!
Coz I think, therefore I am. But, do leave this
Head, already cluttered and bashed about.
Bruised by incessant neural activity, by thoughts
And inaction.

Don't leave but then maybe you should. For you
And I are insane, not those! Not them! We are, I am
The collective consciousness. Not those! They are

Panic Attack

The walls have been closing in-
For a while. Losing the depth of
Breaths slowly I lunge forward to
Try breathing again. Becomes
Harder still.

The lights are on with routine
Perfection. But, the blending
Neural darkness fades its aura
Away into insignificance. The
Body, my body scatters...

Numb and suspended in wakeful
Coma I stagger outside to
Feed on some fresh air, like
A glutton trying to live. The still air
Engulfs me like a flowing spectre.

My throat is as heavy as a chimney
Full of soot. The more I breathe the less
It is. Its not enough, its not enough!!
Is this death incoming with all its
Resplendent potency or is it just me?

Why am I afraid? I don't know.
I feel my head bobbing like a spring doll's
And my ears feel like remnants of a shell burst.
As my bitter hands chafed beneath
The dust I knelt as if in prayer.

I lie on my bed and wonder about the past
Few minutes. The body feels detached from
The mind while it strives to restore the balance.
Experts call it a panic attack but I felt it coming
Like meeting a new acquaintance. Strong but

Just then, I feel the wind chill of the ensuing
Winter... I realize that I am still alive. Oh I... I
Am still alive! I am still alive...