reflection of a young man

Psychedelic lights…tilting music…exotic sets…intoxicating aroma pervading the air!
People! More people! People all around, swaying and swinging gently, like velvety clouds afloat in the sky.
Time is perfect to lose yourself.
Lose whatever you have, the head, the body, and the soul as well, because only the way to survive in this gossamer illusory world is to lose your identity. A drop fallen into the oceans gains a new identity only after losing its identity. Be that drop!
Dazed you must be! Frantically trying to find someone or something to call your own in these swirling tides in which everything and everybody is swallowed never to be found.

Sh! Shh!! Shhh!!! Do not despair
For despair will make your heart heavy and bring a genuine tear to your eyes. A tear born out of genuine sorrow is a peerless pearl. Do not drop it in the eddying pool and yet, if you cannot contain, hold it on a fingertip and gaze deep and long before letting it fall and merge it with the hungry tides.
Sincerity must pay homage to hypocrisy.

Wring this heart with all your might. May be you succeed in drawing out the last tear hiding in some obscure corner of the heart. And if you fail…do not blame me. Blame those who took the path before you. Each one of them paused a while on the spot where you stand today and wrenched drop by drop the precious oozing with wonder and amusement. The wounds did heal but the scars remained, as always, like the countless wrinkle on a carefree face of a tired old soldier. Blame those who with unlimited pain flooded the limitations of this heart. Slowly, the present rolls in the past leaving behind the macabre web of memories woven by time and fate…shrouded with that web we all should and will write our own epitaph. The very thought sends shivers down my spines.
But write I must...

As an old saying says- Travelers move on but the path does not nor do the milestone doting the path. Tired feet trudge along in the hope of reaching ‘there’, the shining spot on the horizon beckoning you to cross the burning desert to the land of peace and quietude, though the limbs will ache and the heart will bleed.
But I will walk as somebody can and will walk only after I do.
So walk I must…

damn! i'm shot again

The problem with life begins when you assume and people you know start acting very smart. You seem to get it all wrong then. Things you thought would make them laugh...words you generally would have used...all appears shit.

And you sit back thinking about your credibility being questioned...you get embarrassed, since you would not have done that to just anybody on the face of this earth...you took chance you got shot. Very simple!

Damn! my father was right don't change your path. People who wanna walk with you, will walk or may even run to keep pace... rest let the dogs n bitches bark n die.

nonetheless!

deserted and lonely

as a solitary peeble

crunched and punched

and turned away

pain rising high,

...so high

embedded deep into the earth,

by a feet that loved

or so,

i thought

the me inside

in shades of gold and blue, besides...

...torn apart,

like a blank sheet,

with smeared ink

of distant memories

and blots of u*f****ful niceties.

I shall succeed

so be it,

that it never alienates me

from that around me.

May be

the reason explains

the faulty choices i've made

like a flickering flame,

that's struggling,

to burn...

...for air and for life,

to stand up straight.

let me be,

'cause i will have the highest

even if it kills me.

Chill !!!

i don't mind
standing in the rain,
it is the words
that beguile
trickling softly
from head to toe
making me forget
each thunderclap
And now,
i fear to tread
on the rain drops,
lest, in a moment
of weakness
i call them my own.

am i a bitching dog...

When the pages of my only diary unfolded before a couple of people i know i was dazed. Suddenly so much confidence was shown on my writing abilities. First thought, few were sarcastic, one may be little high with beer and that thin lady perhaps loves me...

...love, i always thought makes the ground too soft either to be easily dugged inside-out or discourging any serious construction. These soft grounds which i'm lucky( ???) to be surrounded with always made me think twice before going in for any endeavour. though it wouldn't be wrong to say that today i'm that what love made me.

tell me if i'm sounding crooked...yeah crooked...bitching 'bout what you're proud of.