Fissures

Fissures.That's just the right word.Fragmentation might have been close and Schziophrenia might have been techincal,but fissure is apt and poetic.I am talking about the gulf between what we are inside and what we tend to reflect outside.It's survial instinct.But isn't 'instinct' what we associate animals with?.Not men.Ofcourse man being a social 'animal' nothwithstanding,aren't we humans supposed to be one step closer to Godhead.Maybe it's just a vanity.Vanity of the crowned species who can walk and build railroads,and yeah I forgot..who think they think.The surroundings as I see it ,I can't entertain a thought of celeberation.I see people being happy,or atleast trying their best to drown their sorrows in the grey,murky,formless confusion around them which they,in all their innocence,or stupidity if you please,take to be 'everybody -else-is-happy-so-why-can't-i'.I have seen the eyes of those who are 'happy'.They are either intoxicated with the wine of dreams or the alcohol of past glories.And sometimes it's just good old fashined whisky.Rarely I have encountered happy eyes fixated on the 'here-now'.I don't want to be a part of that drug called hope.I am cleansed of it.Apathy is what I live in.It's by choice,so save your 'oh dear me!' and 'urgh cry baby' to yourself ,whosoever read this.

On second thoughts..keep 'em rolling.