Lazy from C-Z

Head spun off a nightmare that never sleeps, tales that never end, whispers that never silence, and in the midst of it all was that reality was even way worse. How do you live off of two fatiguing torments? The simple answer to this is that you do not, or you wish you do not, or you would rather not, or just be blown off the face of the earth. A liar walks by a wooden stick. He picks it up and says, "You'll do fine as a walking cane." So he uses it to soften the blow on his foot, and not sooner than ten seconds, it snaps. He fell dramatically on the stake, impaling him, causing a lot of bleeding, and eventually, death. Now I told you he was a liar, did I, but did he actually lie? Or did the wooden stick lie? But the wooden stick is an inanimate object picked up on the floor randomly. So was it nature? Serendipity? Luck? The folly of man? The unfortunate circumstance of being? What caused his downfall? What is it about descriptive words that make it all seem so easily cate...

Ani will never understand why I had to leave But the answers I seek will never be found at home The love that I need will never be found at home

Sometimes I have to choose between bull and shit. Nothing is a win or lose, everything is a losing situation, especially for you, but I am still trying to rectify that. I am failing badly in every single twist and turn though. It does not help that you are present in the middle of all this. If only you were not. But I cannot wish it. You are the only one that truly matters. If not for you, who could guess what would have been in store. It beats the narrative that perhaps this too shall pass, but no one can tell for sure. Something tells me that the only thing that can outmanoeuvre this great tragedy is you. Because I cannot give up. But part of me now is giving into it so lullingly, exhausted beyond reprieve, and broken beyond measure. My soon to be fear is that you too shall bear the mark of a struggler, then no amount of wishful thinking can save you from what is about to come.

"/Now the rain washed back yesterday bringing thoughts of wasted time/ /And the water brought forth flowed swiftly through your mind/ /Opening your eyes to the stars just to pray/ /Hoping more rain will wash your garden away/ /But your flowers just bloomed ever bright ever proud/ /Screaming "I hate you!" so loud/ /Sister, tell me will you ever bow to what grows in your garden now?/"

We all have our reasons for loving. We pave the way forward through our passions, our sentiments, absent affectations. We collude with all our might to achieve such drastic measures, or we use what little we have left of our sincerities. Sometimes we lose our way, our light, ourselves, in the pursuit of it. This selfsame love that occupies all of me used to move you and was always on your mind. Now you just look right through me, like hardpaved roads branching outwards into the unknown. And now I find myself in so many crossroads, and these choices presented to me are absent of choice. So in order to retain what sanity I have left, I submit myself completely to the whim of my fate, betrayed by cosmic realisations unforeseen. All in the hopes that another path in any of these metaphorical popup roads will soon lead mine back to yours. Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face. This city cries oblivion, and yet here I am in the midst of it all, saving what littl...

Collecting major losses left and right. Unpacking the stuff. Georgia downstairs offering me food as a recompense, but I have no desire. All except to fade away. Lost everything and paid the price. The colour of my face. All for a sweet embrace. A mother collecting her young, and the young collecting the younger. My youngest. The worst farewell. So what else do I have to say? I am the emperor's new gloves. Going home with a handful of gold. Collecting major losses in a wartorn land. It suddenly struck me: I might just die with a smile on my face after all. Qui currunt .

The sphinx appears cold in the dead of night, with its fangs now laid bare, like so many others before it, playing a game of charade. The sphinx is now capable of pouncing, and there I was within its proximity, caught in the ultraviolence. I stood there taking it all in. I stood until I no longer could. I stood, and I sat, and I fell, until I feel my eyes closing permanently shut. I may never open my eyes ever again. You were there with the sphinx, and you smiled the widest smile. If I could only muster a reaction, an impulse, a twitch, anything, something. The sphinx is a playful thing. Beautiful, smart, deadly to the touch. It considers no man its friend. The sphinx supposedly possesses the answer. Or so the riddle goes. I open my eyes, sat on this bed, at the evening twilight, and the sphinx is gone. Like so many others before it. In front of me I see the bloodied body of a man on the floor in the shape of my face. I should have been terrified, but instead I felt envy in my veins, w...

So I was indeed easily caught by my flights of fancy after spiralling out of control. A massive and decisive victory for the unemployed. This journee to France has come to an abrupt end, everything haywire from the get-go. From the fitness side of it and my clearly aging thighs, and airport mishaps coupled with emotional blunders. Nothing had been going my way since the depart, Nantes has been a glorious host to my breakdowns, but also forever tainted by it.