hatched into the universe

the egg of existence is contemplating suicide on everybody's behalf. the thread  hasn't been recovered and the meaning of words and such matters is a very different question altogether. lets move on to other things.
i take it upon myself to question the stability of gravity and household appliances, the windows need to rest from their eternal search for the unknown. who are we to judge? do we understand the language of the tables and chairs, the curtains or speak the dialect of the drawers, all i hear is-open and shut- that doesn't give me the right to trivialize such an existence. nothing is futile, d.n.a everywhere, double helix of disdain scattered around, dancing in the wayward wind, floating in the water inside a solitary glass, humming to itself in a higher decibel, therefore the world is seemingly ordinary to our vision.

narrow minded humans concerned with little things, no logical purpose, logic that isn't provable even to ourselves... strange it is, irregular, powerful and most of all, vain.

but, i ask myself...why such vanity? and why do we have such bad taste? isn't it fascinating! we are truly the lost,wandering blob of species who cannot and will not understand and accept our fate, largely because we are conceited, arrogant, foolish, rubber brained low lives with such a sense of proportion that we do not give a fuck when we know we are worthless.

we should stop trying to decipher the meaning to life, because there is none. there is absolutely no point in getting up in the morning and greeting the day because most likely the day is unimpressed with you and will probably piss on your cheery greeting.
this is what i have to say tonite.
tune in for more bad news in unreadable english. 

supposed to be a song.

tell me all your secrets i'll keep them close to me.
don't be a stranger,
if my memory serves me
i've never seen you cry,
you have the right to try again.

you have forgotten to stand on your feet,
you're crawling,on your knees
but on whose behalf
or is it just a tare in your kiss

because i feel just like i fall
i can guess you are too stable for the world
and for me.

we can try and breathe the same air
but we can't sit on the same chair
still
we can keep real close
like pairs of clothes
peeping into eachother's souls
each keeping the other company.

curiosity

i'm just mad these days. i see no point in being cryptic or diplomatic, which i otherwise am, anymore.
usually you could trust me to never step out of line socially. i'm a sell out that way, be nice, smile, don't talk too much, if you don't know some trivia or someone's name central to a critical topic being discussed, keep your mouth shut. that way no one will think you are totally uncool and handicapped in the mannerisms of the hip or whatever. because that is what life's about, being cool and shit, lives depend on such matters, mine always have.
i'm just sick of the charade, this parade that everyone is a part of called the social experience. i wish we had never evolved, better off being the semi ape who ran around scratching his armpits, dancing around bonfires going on a killing spree. it was a simpler life, no fuss even if you died, the other semi apes would be too busy hunting and running distances or whatever else Darwin conforms they did. fuck evolution. fuck mankind. 

by default

i got to know this person
by default.
lets see.... well, the person isn't as important
as this memory that i have
of long ago, when, as a child
i witnessed the wonders of
knowing little things like
someone's name, or recalling
a particular thread of thought
or even tracing a drawing,
a feeling of being free,
being irresponsible and still
being cared for,
and also fear, or the lack of it
which scares me now,
i trusted everything too much,
volatile and easily flammable is
childhood, little dreams
cannot be revived and restored.

readdressed

i'm a confused person.
i like lots of things, speak sparsely to many people
and i smoke and drink.
that doesn't explain why i'm confused,
but why do you care anyway.
i guess i have friends
but i'm not a good one,
i'm quite engrossed in my shoes or the
colour of my tea.
i act interested but truthfully
i do not give a fuck about
anyone else's crappy day
because someone didn't say
what this person wanted to hear
or generally because the state of the world
is pissing off to say the least.
even i'm pissed off,
pissed off at you, at her, at him
at the dog for walking on the streets
or the stranger for wearing shades
or that woman looking at me wondering
why i look like i do.
people generally piss the fuck out of me
always; fucking self centered pricks with
opinions on everything, walking around with
loud speakers to make themselves heard
at whoever's cost.
fuck everybody, fuck me too for breathing.

to my only, lonely reader

well thank you for reading. i always appreciate it.
sometimes i feel like i'm writing to a ghost,
this blog is a medium to reach the spaces in between,
to you stuck in between, somewhere uncertain,
you never leave comments, thoughts, it's a one sided
correspondence.
that makes all of it very interesting, for me at least.
these thoughts, i hope, does reach you.
  

i love the guitar. someone recently tossed around a careless  and insipid remark about how worthless an instrument the guitar is, that a fool can  pluck on the crude six strings and press on the fret to play it. i was furious of course but being me, didn't say a word....well fuck that, lets see. 

writing is an indulgence for me. words don't flow out of me like a river, or flutter around like butterflies,they are very scarce and difficult...i think it's mostly because of poor,careless vocabulary. sometimes i care about drinking coffee in the early mornings or crave for a late night cigarette, likewise i care about writing.
i like to believe that i'm this adventurous, tough and spontaneous individual holding a big fuck you sign to the world, but i'm just fantasizing...most days i don't get out of bed, i stare at the walls, sit in front of my tiny laptop and scroll through pages and pages of mind dulling trivialities. i wonder if i'm easily entertained, i can laugh for hours at some silly third grade joke my friends throw around, patiently listen to absolutely dull talk with a smile plastered to my face, most times without the realization that all this isn't fun at all for me and i'd much rather smoke alone instead.
dreary times. 

a poser

i'm a poser, i pose for effect,
for fears and other defects
because i like to be accepted
into the clone community,
i'm too weird, too big, too small,
and not skinny and tall, it
causes me heartache to be
set apart, i long for some kind heart to
accept me and change me
train and chain me and
i'll belong to the types and traits
like any other identical piece.

talking talking eating......

lets say we haven't spoken to each other frankly,
frankness has to feel like a stomach ache,
like being sea sick and getting kicked
on the face, and i'm not displaced yet
with that coffee stained look and napkin smile
that tear at the ends, it's a drainpipe atmosphere
and i want to leave now before it turns into
something unexpected.

no postmen

the failure to communicate is
dizzying, a migraine that never
goes away, aching in my stomach
and a bruised heart is welcome,
not cold, disinfectant moods
that burn fallen leaves in spring.
fucked up matters fall straight and sure
like disciplined water from taps. 

entwined
the door creaks with the twist of the vines
and opens to the sky