Skip to main content

Am I losing myself?


Isn't masturbation supposed to tire you off to sound sleep?
Lately, I can't help but contemplate post climaxes.
I hear my stomach growl whilst I suck the cancer stick and acrimony surrounds me.
Is it the lifestyle, the people, the weariness of escaping?

What is it that stops you from being yourself?
How hard is it to prioritise and stay happy? Well, the two are, apparently, inversely proportional.
So you live with the thoughts of happiness in the long run? I fail to understand that philosophy.
The clock ticking, the cursor blinking.
How long is the wait?

It is the moment. It is in the head. In your control.
You need yourself before anyone else.
Emotions or Practicality?
A balance.
A canvas.
Colors.
Nature.
A blend.
You've done it before.
You'll do it again.





At rooftop cafès when people came up to me, clutched my arm, "You play beautifully!"
I'll charm myself before you again.





Comments

  1. Excellent post regarding "Am I losing myself?"

    MCX Tips

    ReplyDelete
  2. quite straight with initial catchy lines.. would u like to discuss few more complicated stuffs over coffee? not desperate but love to know more. Btw me prefers chai + joint more ;)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I looked Pretty.

She was playing with his shirt buttons. In the metro, they stood face to face. Though, her head swung down often as she talked and smiled and blushed. The metro was crowded. But for her, it was just him. You could tell it from her eyes. You could see her eyes twinkling as she looked at him. She was beautiful, wore a salwar-kameez, hair tightly tied up. Her fingers brushing his’. In between, she slid two of her fingers in his breast pocket and giggled. She had a baby laughter, pleasant to my ears. She seemed so much in love, so content. Her man. Where was he? Yes, in front of her. Where were his eyes? Where were his eyes? I regret looking pretty that day.

I was shamelessly staring at him.

I realized I was shamelessly staring at him but I didn't cease. At the gas station, our bus was standing among vehicles which constantly honked horns. The conductor was engaged in a fight, a brutal one they said, which I didn't bother to look at. Soon the bus driver, too, became a part of it.  Half past one, the heat was intense. Cacophony surrounded me.  Abuses to pleads. One spat paan while the fight continued. For the young men it was a recreation, "Let's call the Prime Minister to sort this out", one joked. An elderly man staring at young girls playing. Women fanning themselves with the loose end of their saree and their mother-in-laws frowning at them as their sarees slipped from their heads. A mother grabbing a handful of chips from the packet her daughter was holding, chewing, cursing the weather, and the fighting men, as few bits fell off her mouth. An unmarried couple, taking all the advantage of the half-empty bus. A lady, post staring me from he...

Till the blood dries.

  "The blood oozing out from the cut, gave me immense satisfaction."  "But where was the cut?"  "His neck."           I recently read about Nietzsche's thoughts on Morality and how the good and the evil have been reversed. He asks one to revise the existing norms and to live on ones mental instincts rather than following the herd morality. Isn't that a contradiction there?            The individual's mental instincts. Would they be good? Who decides the evil? Where do you cross the line?            When one is raped, why is there pressure on the law by the family? Would indirect foreordained justification calm your blood? No doubt Nietzsche spoke shit about democracy. 'A 16-year-old girl and her 22-year-old boyfriend were arrested for killing the girl’s adopted parents and leaving their bodies in the house to rot in an upmarket neighbourhood in Vadodara.' ...