Poetriness

She comes to me
I chase her away

She evades me
My eyes burn bright red

She caresses me
I dream in peace

She embraces me
I sleep endlessly

_________________________________________________________
Cough Cough.

Ive been sleeping a lot lately. Snapped out of it today.
Cleaned my room, but there's nothing to do in there.

What a Wonderful World

You know what I'm talking about, don't you Pops. You must've seen it or felt it or something. You have, haven't you?
Yes, the balance, that's what I call it. I knew you'd know of it. I knew you'd understand. I grew quite tired of it, really tired of it, that's why I'm here in front of you right now.

You don't mind me talking bout it? Why that is just so kind. Mind you, I do tend to drag on a bit.

My life wasn't very bad. Quite comfortable, by most standards. But I could see, quite early actually, that there was a law, a balance as I've come to call it. I could take it, back in another time, it was bearable. Quite simple actually, hard work bore fruit, slacking off didn't. For each time I did something wrong, in my own eyes, the guilt would kill me, and if not that some sort of karma would. And it applied everywhere. Quite a simple give and take. I could live with that.

But then, life happened. And took it's toll. You know how it is. My eyes were opened, what you call reefer, might have helped too, heheh.

But drugs aside, for now, I did see, quite clearly, how the balance was skewed for most other people. There were but a few others who had been dealt a fair deal. For most it was all wrong. Not really something I could live with. But worse of all, were those whose scales tipped in favour. You suffered from it too, didn't you. Sensitivity came at quite a high price didn't it Pops.
Ha!

I know, I know, it all sorts itself out in the Universal Scheme of Things. But sometimes the bloody Universe doesn't give a shit about you and me, pardon my French.

I'm glad you understand. It really relieves me. So I have you with me on this, don't I?

Well, two ampoules of Grade A Ketamine did the trick. I was out of there before my body knew it was going to bite the dust. Yeah, it did take a while to find you, but that don't matter no more , do it? Heheh!

Pointless? No, I'm not done yet. I did say I tend to drag on a bit, sorry about that.
Well, I left a letter. For once, I did think things through, quite well actually. When they found me, as I was on my way, they saw the letter. So, they called her.
What? Haha, yeah, it all comes down to a woman doesn't it? Well, I needed to do my bit to set the balance right.
I don't like watching people suffer, who does? But I needed to watch sorrow and pain rend her apart as my body lay, hanging on to those last few breaths. I needed it. She needed it too. I never meant her no harm. Believe me Pops.

Well, that was the final weight on the scales. I'm somewhere else now, where the balance doesn't matter, out of the ruddy scheme to say. For better or for worse, I don't know, don't care either.

So, what do you think? Actually, don't tell me. Doesn't matter, what's done is done. I just ask one thing of you. Just sing me a few bars of that song. C'mon Pops, you know what I'm talking about.

Ahh, thanks. Thank you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took me two days to come up with the concept. Its a melange of a lot of things I've been thinking about, for a while.

You know what I'm listening to. If you don't, you don't.

Zone

I'm in a zone. I've been there for god knows how long. Hours, days, weeks, months, who the fuck knows. It's not like I know what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel a full blown rant would help things, but I just cant. My subconscious is probably tired of me whining about how fucked things are on a day to day basis. So it came up with the brilliant idea of stemming the flow of words not from my mouth but from my fingers.

Image currently in head : Brain stem trying to choke me and tying up my fingers with nerve fibres.

Sometimes I wish I was better at sketching, so I could put down what I was thinking with a little more clarity.

I'm quite tired of thinking. Seriously. Its a strain, drain and other things ending with -ain, or even rhyming with it.
I dont see the point of constantly battling your desires so as to fulfil long term goals. If you cant be happy now, whats the point of being happy 20 years later. There is the whole work hard ethic thing, but seriously, how can you guarantee your happiness after youve achieved whatever goal you have.
If I end up penniless a couple of years later, I'll say " At least I enjoyed my time!"

I hate the way I write now. I cant articulate the thoughts in my head. Everything is gone. Lost. Probably even put up for adoption.

This might seem like a rant, but is far from one. Venting out feelings is hardly enough anymore.

It's a drug. You use, abuse and then your tolerance increases, you hit it harder and harder, looking for that release. Chasing the dragon as its called, in the more opiate controlled form.
Its what ive been looking for, a release.
Well, my arms are covered with needle marks, im out of veins to shoot into, regular junk doesnt do it for me anymore. Am I nearing saturation, or have I just become eternally thirsty.
Burroughs spoke of the wraith (ive probably got the name wrong, but who gives), a protoplasmic remnant of what was once a human and then a junkie. Thats all I am now. The wraith is transparent, so am I. So used to opening and venting out, I am just an open book, though who might be reading is another question altogether.

I remember a time, when there was an angst in what I wrote, some feeling, and a little accomplishment when I got done with it. Now, there is just the expectation, the anticipation, followed by an old friend, disappointment.

And what fun is there, what joy is left, in forcing myself to do something. It becomes pure mindless drudgery, something I loathe from the very depths of my being.
I never thought I would be one to bow to the machine, and here I am, contemplating to be one with it.

I might have had a spark once, I'm not quite sure. It might have been a fledgling spark, a sparklet. But whatever it was, if it was there, it is now gone, extinguished by time and tide.

I am still young, with years to go before the final release ( chance dictates how many) But I feel no joy in what I do. There is no zest. There is nothing.

This might be a phase, it might pass. But doesn't its occurrence signal something far worse to come.

I could go on typing. But what would be the point. As usual I have become butcher to myself, hung myself up by the meat hook for all to see.

I see no end in sight, all there is, is bleak. And it is I who is to blame. For no matter how much you debate it, a man is the master of his own destiny.

Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better.
Still, I will be the same.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I should have written this in my journal, but spontaneity got the better of me.

Of Doors And Dreams

He had a key
The corridor
seemed endless
Doors, innumerable
All alike
Which one he looked for
he knew not himself

Its not like he could stop
Dream was all he did
Had the key not fit
It might have made sense
to stop
But each and every door?

He was probably born with it
Was he the key
or the key him
None could say
Least of all him

They had told him
of fortunes he was to have
For every door
was his to open

None of them did
Maybe the key
was made wrong
But each time
it seemed just right

Where the line was
between real and unreal
he knew not
Had he crossed it
Or was it where he stood
He had found a constant
a pillar, a companion
in a blur

He still tries every door
Out of hope, some despair
others with a will
easy to fade
There were always those
he walked into
blindly

None open
He can see through though
and wish
for that is all
that keeps him going
Wish

Caught up in
disappointment
he drowns silently
in a glass half full
Though he knows
in his heart of hearts
The key
He never turns it all the way
.


---------------------------------------------
Now Playing : Sigur Ros - Flugufrelsarinn
Now Reading : The works of Mr. Grewal, among other things
Now Feeling :

To Do List

Things to do this summer :

* Reach home (Done)
* Not get killed by parents
* Not kill parents
* Kill younger brother
* Quit smoking (Hah!)
* Study (Hah!)
* Watch Skins (Season 3)
* Actually finish the books i pick up from the library
* XBox 360 (I only have 2 games, still no Halo 2/ 3/ etc)
* Fix busted knee
* Buy new shoes
* Write something good in my journal (poor thing has been untouched for over a month!)

Who says I'm not organised?

The Hunger Law (student edition)

The law of hunger states that "Male hostel students are always in a constant state of hunger due to lack of both home cooked food and good places to eat"
This is also known as Colonel's law, i.e. Colonel Sanders of Kentucky.
It can be mathematically expressed as :
H = n*T/w + m(g/n)
where
H = hunger in terms of McChicken burgers in SI units, or Zingers in Mks units.
n - number of people in the sample population
T(t) - A function of the time , which is ideally a constant, as we are generally hungry
w - weight of food available, we can see H is inversely proportional to it
m - it is a special factor, also known as the munchies factor, which depends on the coefficients g ( amount of green stuff) and n

CTBM is always gone because its quantity (w) is always lower than that which can satisfy the population n, which probabalistically tends to be larger than n', which is the optimum population.
It also depends on the "early bird gets the worm" hypothesis.

------------------------------------------------------
This was an answer to Sharad's status message :
"Q 3. State the law of Hunger and explain why the Chicken Tikka Butter Masala always gone. Justify your answer. [12]"

I should be studying.

Now Listening - Sigur Ros overdose. Faye was right, it is like whale song, very very soothing.
Now Reading - You dont want to know.
Now Feeling - Petulant.

My Place

Where I work, play, brood, eat, drink, ponder, party and do a few other things too.

Frizzle Frazzle.........The sweet sound of burning brain tissue.

8 mugs of caramel Cappuccino. Uncountable pipe loads of Arabic pipe tobacco. One two hour examination. 4 songs have me buzzing.
Listen.
Drink.
Smoke.
Listen.
Good BYE!!!!

Fat Segal - Skins Theme
Animal Collective - Banshee Beat
" - Winter Wonderland
" - Who could win a Rabbit?











Dont forget................
Your brain is your playground.

I Dream of Djinnie

Dark. The absence of light. If this ain't dark, don't know what is. The place where black holes go to sleep. The place has never known light.
In a fucking articulate mood. Fuck it.
Feel free. Light. Weightless. Like plankton in an ocean of --
-- Enough!
Hunh?
-- I've had it!
What!
-- Not even half the average lifespan, and you've driven me nuts.
Can't see anybody. No surprise. Mysterious voice echoing all around and inside my head!
-- How long does it take your drug addled brain to realize I'm talking to you!
Okay.
-- Quit your bleeding running commentary for once, and listen to what someone else is saying.
But who-what are you?
-- Finally the dimwit realises he's not alone. don't take it too personally, most of you humans have this isolation complex. Fuck! Now I'm digressing. To answer your question, I'm Jambi.
From the Pee Wee Show?
-- Bollocks! No! Before your arsehole of a mouth opens again, I'll educate you. I'm Jambi, granter of wishes, the Big Bad Blue Djinn himself.
But for all I know, your just the size of a neutrino, or even a figment of my imagination. You do realize im in sensory deprivation here.
-- Its for your own good that you cant see me, or you'd fry your brain. Not that it needs much frying, youve done a pretty good job all by yourself.
Hunh!
-- Exactly!
___________
-Lets cut to the chase here. I'm the cunt whose been at the receiving end of every wish you've made, big or small. From yer Ma's teat to that lay youve been lusting after. Every-bleeding-thing.
Fucking-A!
-- Very fucking-A indeed. And this is your moment, ya wee shit.
Wait a minute, whys your accent all messed up?
-Well look at yourself, ya shtoopid. Ever seen anybody more messed up?
So that means --
-- That means fuck all. I've got better things to do than not be seen and just heard by the likes of you. Gotta hand it to you though, your one hell of a distraction. Faaack!!!
Chill man!
-- Enough. Enough. Enough Enough Enough. Now listen up. Your at the ultimate crossroads, and your options are unlimited. And you have one wish. The one decision ya ken? Make it and yer futures decided, to put it in the simplest, most fucking obvious way ever possible.
Un hunh.
-- Now make it. Wish. Thats what you've been doing your whole pointless life. Go on.
Some time?
-- Time ain't the issue here. It isn't even here. Now is then and what will be is what was. Savvy?
Great.
Decision time. What I've always sucked at. What do I want?
To start afresh. To have her back. Be uber rich.
Be somebody else. Awesome axe skills.
AAAAAAARGGGGGGHH!
This is my fucking weakness.
-- Having fun, eh Kiddo?
Aww shut the fuck up man. there's some serious thinking going on here.
How can I make this easier. My little bag of party favours. If only I had my sta-





-- Hmm, he's gone and done it. Lesseee where this takes him. Cant say much bout his decision. I didn't write the fucking book you know..
-- Hmm.
-- I just might miss the wasted little fuck.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Its done. The follow up kinda thing, its done.

Now Listening : Tool - Part of Me. Its been ages since I heard Tool.
Now Reading : Freakangels. A webcomic by Warren Ellis.
Now Feeling : Nothing really. But my left leg has gone to sleep.

25 Hours

6:15
Tomorrow

Where does all this time keep going? Checked my pockets. Found a watch. What could that mean?
Cigarettes are a precious commodity. Not anymore. Hah. Ive reverted to the old shag baccy and skins.
Tripped on something. Physically that is. Damn, some kid's OD-ed or passed out or something in my room, while i was busy chasing the Light Fantastick. Damn.
Get him outta here. Take cash from wallet. Need it to clean up. Hmm, Shirosagi Corpse Cleaning service would be useful right now. Tempting. Unfortunately, phone link between fact and fiction hasn't been set up. Lets break the fourth fucking wall. You, hey you! Get somebody to clean this place up. Doesnt it hurt your aesthetic sensibilities!
Look at him. Looks like me. Hot damn! Astral projection .... no, Ketamine overdose .... no. Did I just off myself??
Great, looks like I did. Im dead.
Hmm
Damn, my stash!

6:15
Today

Spread-eagled on my bed. I should be thirsty. But strangely am not. Phone rings.
I headbang to the tune. Message arrived. Exam in 30 minutes. Hmm. One complication, left eye seems to be glued shut.
Interesting.
What happens when you shoot up through your eye?
What did I do to my eye?
Maybe its sleepy.
Speed?
Zip. Snort. Gasp.

5:45
Today

Back in my room. Just checked the watch. Not sure how I got back here.
No theft too. All my stuff and the stash is here. Whew.
AS long as the merchandise is safe, everything is cool.
And I've also got something to dip into, for times like these.
Zip. Pop. Ahh!

5:15
Today

Its bleeding 5:15 in the morning. In a speeding auto. Headed straight for the college gate.
We just megabumped over a speedbreaker. Reckless.
Driver turns on the radio for some reason. The clangy bhajan creates a "psychedelic India" environment.
In my head. At least.
Another bump. This specimen of genus Drivus seems to be quite the adrenaline junkie. Or high on something. Probably both.
It piques my curiosity, purely out of professional interest.
Im not all that sober.  Beer and quite a few doobies. Half expecting Drivus inebrius to turn back and give a maniacal stare.
I can see him. With his red eyes big and bulgin. Gigantic eyebrows too. I had seen his real face and could see through his flimsy human disguise.

Don't want to die. not in an accident. Not in an accident caused by Satan and his chauffeurs sodomy baby. Not when I have with me my entire cache of red eyed dreams, trips and visions.
At least I wont die sober.

Another major swerve. Around nothing. He is seeing things.
He has red demon eyes. Maybe he can see things I cant. Hellephants?
Is he trying to save me.

Not possible. Drivus inebrius is well known for its lack of altruism.

Reality hits hard. Its like sleuce gates somewhere in my mind have opened up.
Not good. Shit. Cant take more of it. Vile stuff.
Dig my hand into the stash bag. Its a lucky dip. I pop whatever i find into my mouth.
Toke. Exhale. Another toke. This J isn't doing anyone any harm.
Its all good.

Or not. The road doesn't seem to reach its destination. Hmm. Something wrong with that statement. Hmm, found a logical error. Or an illogical accuracy.
The road seems wobbly. More than usual.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is a piece if fiction. It took me 4days to get in a state where i could concentrate enough to type it out. It could've laid for eternity at the back of my Ayverything notebook.

Now Listening : Hym (JK Broadrick Remix) by Isis.
Now Reading : Acid House by Irvine Welsh.
Now Feeling : The need for a cigarette.

Pardon me, I'm a little rusty.

I don't know what to call this. I don't even know what this is. I wrote this on the back of my DIAC lab journal, while eating dinner at Bhundu dhaba.
Anyway.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something precious shatters
A broken shard pierces you
You bleed

You try,
to pry out the shard
You bleed some more
It hurts
Like hell

The shard's gone in,
deeper
The blood has congealed
The wound heals
Slowly, though

Theres a pain inside
Its the splinter
Reminding you,
"Im here, inside you"

You scratch
Try to pull the scab off
Stirring up things
Best left alone
You hurt
You bleed

You wonder
What it is
Thats making you
Hurt
Yourself

You masochist, you

Two choices
Thats all you have
Gather, what little
willpower you have
And pull that
Sodding shard
Right out of you
But,
you will bleed

Or, forget
Let the splinter be absorbed
Into your self
Forget
But the hurt wont stop
For a while
a long while
At least.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now Listening : Old hindi songs and new bhojpuri songs, simultaneously, at Chez Bhundu's
Now Feeling : Fuck emotions, I'm bloody exhausted.
Now Reading : Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman