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and I’m looking at a blank page now
should I fill it up with words somehow?
the scratching of a mellotron
it always seemed to make her cry
well maybe she remembers us
collecting s p a c e up in the s k y
Last night, she told me that she loved me. And that i did not love her. Told me.
Red mist spreads across my fingertips, ardour slips
I nearly broke down. First time, in a long time.
nothing like this felt in her kiss
cannot resist her
I can’t hide all the time. I cannot.
im getting feelings im hiding too well
bury the heart shaped shell
you would have known if you had ever truly loved someone.
making assumptions. maybe you’re right.
You thought it was the start of something beautiful?
– I hate living between two worlds
– So do I – I am this perfectly regular guy on one side
– and a sexy sadist who takes advantage of his sidekick on the other
– the sidekick is seductive
– she isn’t
well think again.
She is to you what every guy ive been in a relation with – after S. – has been to me. And I don’t care about him anymore. You don’t? No. Nobody has actually hated me before. It has been two years. And he hates my guts. He wanted to marry me; and now he hates me. I have been through pure hell, trust me. This happens once. It will never happen again. Not this.
I…I learned to be alone. I don’t…need…anybody.
Will you teach me?
something broke inside my stomach
i let the pieces lie just where they fell
I talk her to orgasm. Stop. Stop. Now. Orgasms, maybe. Can you give me two minutes? I’m sorry to keep you waiting.
She called you every other day. So savour it it’s all gone now shesmovedon. People who are submissive in real life are dominant in bed. A bet for ten bucks and a bribe of unconditional love. Girl: there’s a difference between a guy who wants to make love to you and one who wants to fuck you. Boy: Both end up fucking you anyway. No, I do not believe you are nothing. It never is that easy.
okay whats next
after the sex
i wont mislead you. I’m sorry.
what do we do now?
finding the time
drawing the line
imagine him having an affair, leaving you. But he wanted you and now he’s just…dead? Dying, in front of your eyes?
She changes every time you look
She doesn’t interest me. That’s all.
People don’t collapse.
Lots of people do. You have no idea.
Lots of people don’t.
and never crossing it
i told you i wouldnt get in touch with you till i return
Don’t look back into black
Don’t let the memory of sound drag you down
youll take ten deep breaths and then stutter one word.
hair blown in an open car
summer dress slips down her arm
glass arm glass arm shattering shattering
in one of those rare phases when we were talking, she told me that she had never loved me. and that i was probably the person who had loved her the most.
It is over.
Yes, it is.
All my designs – simplified
You are scared. You are too cautious. Calculating. I can never be like that.
No it’s not that.
You are scared.
I just don’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t want to be her.
And all of my plans – compromised
You are scared. listen to yourself, justifying what you say. I have hurt everybody ive been in a relation with, since him.
Okay, maybe i am a bit scared
You are scared, and believe me, you are missing out.
And all of my dreams – sacrificed
arriving somewhere – but not here…
– just let me cling to you for a while. I lay her gently on my clothes
Till i find another soul. Then i’ll be gone. She will leave me yes I know
– Leaving me my peaceful, calculated life?
And something warm and soft just passed through here
It took the precious things that I hold dearer
It rifled through the grey and disappeared
The creeping darkness makes the small hours clearer
leaving you your peaceful, calm life, and a scar-free neck
(girl, don’t you bloody understand you’re making me cry? Unravel out the finer strands. I need those watercolour-stained fingerprints on my tee, my skin, my bones, my soul. those scars heal me)
Yes I’d have to say I like my privacy
And did you know you’re on closed circuit TV? So smile at me
I sobbed through the nights after my roommates had fallen asleep. Until i cried myself to sleep. Don’t look at me with your mother’s eyes or your killer smile
Sing a lullaby
I was a nervous wreck and i didn’t show it.
You are a wonderful beautiful person.
Beautiful? You said so yourself, she smiled. Go fuck yourself.
Then what will you do? I’ll do you.
I don’t remember
Did something in my past create a hole?
as the cheerless towns pass my window
i can see a washed out moon through the fog
youre a lot of firsts. the first guy i’m not selfish about. The first time i have nothing to say at all.
don’t you worry
this cold world is not for you
so rest your head upon me
I have strength to carry you.
(P.S. I wanted to keep the original, un-punctuated form – as it was jotted down in the bus from Kolkata to asansol on the 29th of December, between 12.30 pm and 2 pm.
All the song lyrics are from Porcupine Tree‘s Deadwing album.)
I HATE alcohol, and people who go on about its merits. ‘Wine Connoiseur‘?? Fuck off!!!! You’re no better than a ganja addict, RETARD! And you haven’t one-tenth his guts.
Can anyone here tell me what they gain by drinking themselves to dumbness? ‘COOLNESS“???? How can a person who cannot string two proper words in the correct grammatical sequence be “KEWL“, whatever that means?
And I don’t see why a person is admired for being able to ‘carry his drink‘, as the phrase goes. It’s like diabetics competing in a sweet-eating-race, to see who can survive longer. Dumb, really.
It’s a mad world, where violent people, and drunkards, are treated as HEROES. And it’s not a good ‘mad’. It’s a very very BAD sort of ‘MAD’.
I am not happy. I have never been truly happy since I left school.
Yes, school was tough, too. But, at least, there has always been the light at the end of the tunnel. That I’ll be doing something of my choice once I pass out.
So, what’s wrong with my subject? Nothing, I suspect, except the fact that it’s not my subject. Noble profession? Maybe. But the fact is, it requires interaction with people to achieve its full meaning. Voluntary, interested interaction. Which I do not enjoy.
In fact, what is really wrong is that I don’t care about people. Yes, I don’t like to see them hurt. Much less to be responsible for it. It weighs on my conscience, I suppose. But it has, I know, always been about me – ‘my’ conscience. I’m a self absorbed wretch. Period. I don’t hate people, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m just indifferent to them – I wish I wouldn’t have to interact with them any more than necessary. I wish I would be left alone.
But the strange thing is, I have had, and am having, really really great people around me all these years of my life. I’ve been lucky to be blessed with the acquaintance of some of the best people in the world, in every way…yet I have grown up to be what I am, today.
The problem, of course, lies with me. It is a double-edged knife.
(1) I shouldn’t have been the way I am, with the circumstances that I’ve grown up in. But I can’t change that, I guess. Ego sum qui sum.
(2) I should have let people know what I am. I doubt anybody could – or indeed, would – have stopped me from doing what I want. But the truth is, I’m a coward. I hide myself to please others. I justify myself by saying that I hate hurting people, but that’s just an excuse.
The truth is, I cower from making decisions. I let people throw their weight around me. I let others take my life’s decisions, hoping against hope that they would turn out to be correct. Or, believing that, ‘in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on’. Or at the very least, someone to blame for the dead end. And, I must admit, my luck has always held.
But, I fear that this time round, my luck has run out. I’m on my own. Maybe without even a prayer to help me on my way.
There isn’t Another Road. This one’s a Dead End. And the only one to be Blamed is me.
Fuck. Who did I think I was? Lord Luck?
(P.S. One last thing: I do hate hurting people. I’m not claiming that as an excuse to my behaviour. But yes, I do want people around me to be happy. Very much.)
(P.P.S. I believed tremendously in myself, that I’m blessed with excellence. That belief still exists, albeit in a very diminished form. So, maybe I’ll survive this dead end too. And find a way out.
Here’s to that much-hoped-for-and-non-existent-as-of-yet way.)
In isolation do I enjoy my life
Even in the company of my closest acquaintances (friends, if they allow me to use that term) I feel removed, distant. No, I do NOT mean I consider myself beyond them. Maybe the Almighty, if He exists, forgot to input the code for gregariousness – organized or otherwise, that defines a human being – into me. Or maybe he messed it up (as is usually the case) and cast an alien into human mold.
In isolation do I enjoy ecstasy and despair
The weirdest part is, I’d really love to be a part of the society, a face among many others. Yet I feel absolutely no inclination to break out of the web of loneliness I’ve woven around me. With my friends, you’d probably see me as another normal teenager indulging in an excited chatter. If only you had known with what effort I maintain even that simple conversation, say, about girls, with anyone. Or even retain that tone of excitement in my voice.
Sometimes I long to be ordinary…
…Just another brick in the wall…
…Just another particle of sand in the desert of humanity…
…Just another insignificant figure in the milling crowd…
It may seem strange, but sometimes I wish to surrender myself to mediocrity just in order to be a part, an inconspicuous perhaps, but integral part of society.
But why should I?
I AM extraordinary. I know it. I am endowed with talents and opportunities many people would gladly die for. And no amount of persuasion or failure can convince me that this notion of mine is an erratic one. I am proud to be what I am…
…though, perhaps, it would have been better if I hadn’t been…
…perhaps, it would have been better if I hadn’t existed at all…
…maybe, I do not exist at all….
…maybe, this is all a dream…
…maybe, this is all a beautiful nightmare…
…but then, who is dreaming the dream?
Nah, enough of worthless pseudophilosophical talk;
I articulate in existence,
How dare I articulate against existence?
P.S.: If all of this makes no sense to you, it is probably because it makes no sense at all, even to me.
Sorry for wasting your time, folks.