I've never felt this alone.

You were my blanket.

I want company. But whose? No one's going to pander to my deranged sense of loneliness and discard their concerns for mine.


...You're not there...

We laugh in the face of love.
Nobody's really there.
Nobody's real...

Happiness By The Kilowatt

He jabbed her smartly in the ribs.

"Ouch! Masla kya hai tumhe?"
"Kuch bolo naa."
"Kuch nahin hai bolne ko. Kya boloon..?"
"So what? Just because there's nothing to say, doesn't mean you can't say anything."
"But what will it achieve?"
"I don't know, really. But it's communication, haina? I mean, here I am, talking, and you're listening. When you say something, you're talking, and I'm listening. And there's a link. There's communication. I want communication."
"....You're so weird."
"Kya, jaan..."
"Buss, meine keh diya hai. I win."

You always won. I'd always lose, just so you could win. I tried to make sure you won. All the time. Every single time. In childish competitiveness, when I'd sometimes forget to lose, the prize didn't help. What's the point of winning if it doesn't get you what you want?

In your victory, and the joy therein, lay my prize. If you won, I won, even if I had lost. If you lost, I lost, despite official records.


All I want to do is help you win. So I can win. I like these rules we play by. Can't we keep them? Why change the rules now, when there's no need to?

Let's play again. Please. Let our tears flow, and dance into the twilight. And leave us to us, to play our games, so you can say buss, meine keh diya hai. I win.

So I can win with you.

This is only just a test.

Hold my breath to communication.

if i can get this feeling safe
trembling eye lens
holding me there
we laugh in the face of love
cause nobody's really there
nobody's real.

Move one inch at a time...
You'll do just fine.

StopThe Fucking Car

Love is now a privilege we get to flaunt in the faces of others less fortunate. A basis on which to coincide our joys with others in the same boat. A privilege which can come and go however it may, and we will still clamour for it. We will still trample through hordes to covet this feeling.

Know what, I started writing this a while ago in my head, and I can't be bothered to continue. so fuck it. Happy reading.

Cut Me Gently, Cut Me Out

Don't talk about it, write it down, But don't ask for help
And I can't be honest with even myself
Did you ever wish you were someone else?

Dance Dance Dance

An offbeat hits the airwaves, and all the people surrounding him fade into non-existence. He cavorts around the room in a rush of exuberant insanity. Talk floats of unhappiness, and of enjoyment. All he can do is keep this insane gyroscope in motion. Walls blur into one, and corners whisper in shades of unknowing. Laughter crackles in some parallel dimension, where voices still carry meaning, faces still carry empathy, and humans still carry feelings. A time comes to mind. A time of youth's innocence. A time of hate's exile. And it all comes to a front. A crest swelling fifty feet high, dwarfing horrified wraiths, silencing the wails of those in torment. And surely what goes up must come down. The wave pounds down on the hapless, statuesque in the grip of fear and mounting crisis. The sound destroys all it ripples through. A quiet washes over the mortal face of existence, tearing down the fabric meshing everything together. It bears down with the ferocity and threat of the last minutes of your life. The assault is relentless.

And once it is over, and everything is ruined, he emerges from the fog, dancing still to the tune of 26. He is not afraid, as he feels himself falling back to ground.

In The Morning And Amazing

Infinite Silence floating right in with the Dawn
This feels wrong...This is wrong.
And I cannot sleep without the radio on.

Let us drown into this sleep.
May we never rise again.

Hold me please,
Stay with me,
and I will sleep...
In this half-light.

Good Winter.

Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order's tall

I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
In the morning I'll be with you
But it will be a different "kind"
I'll be holding all the tickets
And you'll be owning all the fines

Come on skinny love what happened here
Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Sullen load is full; so slow on the split

I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
Now all your love is wasted?
Then who the hell was I?
Now I'm breaking at the britches
And at the end of all your lines

Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?

Animation and Suspense.

I feel the rot within. It's somewhere between my neck, and my pelvis. It might even be right between my neck and pelvis. My entire torso. I think my head sometimes tries to compensate for the death and numbness I feel in the rest of my body. Right now, I am all too aware of the divisions between my toes, each and every one of them held in suspension apart from each other. Through the rot, there cuts a sensation in the pit of my stomach. I have no name for this sensation. It is sad. It is dejected. It is disappointed. It is tragic. It is lost to the world, as the world is lost to it.

Metaphors speed by, and straws cling on when you clutch at them. The void gapes, and monstrous entities as yet undefined outside a considerable level of abstraction erupt from the maw. From eyeless bigots, to beasts undone by their own devices, they come bearing my face. They come bearing my shame. They come to see me undone by my devices, as they were undone by theirs. The ground on which I stand crumbles just to swallow me whole.

Just as I did when I was the ground beneath her feet.

So let's steal away to Eden,
and on the way we can sing in the car
You can stop for a moment denying your pain,
and perhaps I'll forgive you a lifetime of war.

And you can reclaim all you gave away
if it's just for this one short day
and we can reclaim the friendship that we once had,
and set our hearts back to go.

At least then, we might just
elude the report and escape
with it hidden intact

that's it, keep looking...it's just buried in the sand

though as i dig by your side, I fear I should just up and blindly run
The world starts in the morning, and I can already feel the sun
And the tide is closing in, we're up to our ankles...

So goodbye, my sister...
I guess I will see you tomorrow.

A Walk To Forget

I stepped out, and I walked
I walked and I walked
Down long tarred roads
down dirty dirt paths.

And on I walked, and I walked
winding with the promenade
I walked the longest walk,
Indeed to a place quite far.

I walked with the sun,
with its rise and its fall,
I walked 'round the world,
In no direction at all.

I walked with a purpose,
I walked with a place to go.
But it was where this place was
that left me at my greatest loss.

I walked, and I walked,
with longing weighing on my shoulders.
I wanted to walk home,
But no such place exists.

Dejected, I walked back from whence I emerged.
This road, arduous and long.
I wonder: did I miss the exit?
Did I take a turn wrong?

No answer came at all,
So I walked down my street,
Shorter strides by the minute,
Voices lost in the dance of a song.

What's the point of walking, when there's all these signs
and not a single one points to you.

Just so many things.

You don't need me. What is the point? You don't need any of this. You don't want any of this. So why do you carry on? I never understand, I never let go, I never care, I never try, so what's the point of it all to you? Not like you care to try, though. At least, it seems that way. All you want is for it to go away. But you never want to try and make it so that it goes away. So it never comes back. Dust under rug swept is still dust. Just as indifference behind i-love-yous are indifference.

I'll say it again. You don't need me. You don't need any of this. You don't want any of this. So what's the point? Why don't you find someone who makes you feel like there is a point. That there is desire. That there is a colossal yearning, a monstrosity consuming everything else in its wake in the process of overwhelming the entirety of your remaining existence. Someone who you won't "forget", someone who you won't be able to "forget". Someone who will become a part of you, someone who you can really latch on to and never let go. So what if the others will disapprove? This is your life. Not theirs. Your issues. Not theirs. Your desires. Not theirs. So do what you will, do what you want. My bruised cage will eventually breathe easy.

For who am I, to need you when I am down?
But where were you, when I needed you around?

Who am I to need you now? To ask you why, to tell you how? To deserve your love and your sympathy?

Maybe, just maybe...You were never meant to belong to me.

It is such a tortuous feeling. To want something, and feel like you don't deserve it. To have something when you know you don't deserve it. And your conscience is only too glad to remind you so. Quiet nights are spent wrangling fingers together, trying to instill some tension, some feeling, into the things we take for granted. And it is such a deathly feeling, knowing that what you are trying to accomplish, only one other person can do for you. And you don't have the right to have that person do it for you.

There's just so many things...