Tuesday, April 25, 2006


silence creates vaccums.
i'm all dressed up and nowhere to go.black asphalt,bricks and mortar beckon me,but i won't move.the taste of inertia is like lsd on the tip of your tongue--when time evaporates into hazy fogs,buds open into carnivourous flowers which can gulp infinities,and stars are little naked children running on black-sand beaches.statues are cute in a way,aren't they?.creating an illusion of stability amongst chaos;boulders amidst flowing waves.i have a weakness for metaphysical and obtuse.where complexities converge into gaping holes,finally coming back full circle into nothingness from which everything started.that might be the fate of this universe,or the beyond after-death.fleeting glimpses of happiness are perception loopholes.just that perception loopholes.
vaccums create silences.

Monday, April 24, 2006

A Blindfold Prayer

The grand dullness of being stuck. There are no alarm bells ringing, and the certainty of awakening from a nightmare to another mechanical day isn't there. one can just dream. like I do.or just wait, wafting along the waves; dipping,rising and dipping again. The strangulation more chocking at the rising than on dipping.well,I can still drag on.shave,take bath and be squeaky clean and wonderfully smelling. and get ready for another dip. or another rising?*shrugs*.

All in all we’re just another brick in the wall

you still are distant and now i no more want any closeness. the doors have been shut on my face by you. I just bolted myself in. now the marvel of something utterly destroyed and handsome is for all to see. from the windows. to sympathize upfront and mock inside. I, drenched in my broken ego, collection the shards of my crystal-heart, covering the windows with blinds, terminating all voices and all lights. the bloodied hands, the bloodied hands.purpleness engulfs me.O god, let me sleep.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

A little less conversation

Below is an unedited(kinda) part of an actual coversation that took place.The names have been changed to protect the identity of a certain mr.footloose and yours truley.not that i'd give a fuck about protecting identities,but it gives a good soundbyte kinda thingy.

mr.myself: yeah. i know it's just a matter of perception
mr.myself: i do want to change mine to something grander
mr.myself: but i always tend to notice the things which are slimy,dirty,depraved and ugly.
mr.myself: i just can't not see 'em.
mr.myself: kinda partial blindness, if you will
mr.myself: i know there is beauty in the world,but the goddamned ugliness strikes out so odd that it hides whatever good is in here
mr.myself: i maybe contaminating your thought process too,i'm sorry if i am.it's contagious..so i'll advice you not to speak to me often
mr.myself: i am sick of everything you know
mr.myself: even contemplating death
mr.myself: i am sick of it
mr.myself: there are no absolutes
mr.myself: and it disturbs me a lot
mr.myself: kinda fuckin scares me,though i wouldn't admit it
mr.myself: except here..over chat,when you can't see me
mr.myself: in real life i'd be all smiling mockingly at everything.kinda playing along
x: death is the ultimate
x: but living with death is a horror
mr.myself: *smiles*
mr.myself: you find me crazy?
x: no
x: nothing is crazy
x: its just the frame of references@mind
x: whatever u r thinking is absolutely right from ur frame of mind
x: and I always respect induvidual thoughts
mr.myself: maybe these thoughts aren't all that individual.maybe i've picked 'em along..from the darkest alleys where they'd smoke weed and inhale all sorta things
mr.myself: where sex is as casual as sneeze
mr.myself: and self-respect is as much a living thing as a vrigin whore

well do you find me crazy,dear readers?

Wednesday, April 19, 2006


It's too silent,my vacant room
stoney walls
too thick,too indifferent.showing

a single broken crack;
a small parabola.

endless stories it must have seen
and countless coats of
varnished paints.

A sudden stain of purple
the silent neighbour,looks beautiful
contouring and contorting

violent desperation.
fissures of agony
and other acts of sadness.

how faceless a wall looks
how mirthless the space it contains
ringing bells
ringing bells

someone suck this emptiness away.