Alternate Lives/ Blah

The chill whisper pours out white clouds. Hugging each other tight, we gaze across the stark blindness. Spread across the dark vacant spaces are snow-tipped mountains, invisible in the villainy of the night. Yet, in our imagination, we can envisage their grandeur.

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Walking with a carton of intoxicants tucked under the arm, I make way through fumes of the colour-filled night. Already fused with unknown hues, the head spins across the glistening pavements. Loss is an epiphany of death. Fuck you bastards, you want a taste of this ? Inadequate control over the white moon above. Wait till y'all see these screeching bats. Then yaw'll know what I am talking about. Tangled heap in a corner.

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Up amongst the white puffs, we glide. For eternity and a second. Till their eyes droop and both of them set off on their own sweet little adventures. The lamp dimmed, feet skim the passage. Our bed holds sparks of yesterday's tension. Each for his own. Underneath the blankets, a little wayward thought brings me to memories of yesteryear dreams. A life I once touched, now remains solely as the object of my imagination.

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The mouse squeaks. Red blooded eyes behold glares of the opponents. Swift glides, clicks, screams, euphoria, high fives. Frags at WCG. Life.

Loot

A scream rose inside
Loud, thick, strong it cried
It sizzled, coursed through every vein
Yesterday stood so tall
Today had a fall
Now to meet my own gaze is pain
All things I lay eyes on
turn to soot.
My heart is ashes,
I crash and burn.

Updating life

O
A
A
A
Pointer rests itself peacefully on the head. We don't waste much time to click and rake in the fortunes of a death. Something swells inside and a smile surfaces. Alibi has scored one more frag. Eye remains fixed on the landscape and 'What-ho!', the screen fades to black. Settling back on my chair, I look across to see our guys quite snob. A sheepish grin surfaces and we put the past behind. Beast is our lone hope. But his gaze traverses some distant plains and then he looks at us, stiff upper lip. Barber and I set off to execute our crazy little whims. Yet, our screens keep fading to black . And, we get raped.
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Dil sa koi kameena nahi. I rack my brains to figure out a problem that I had solved 354 days before. Aunty must be hearing our conversation. Reputation is at stake. Behind me is a beautiful human female specimen whom I intend to keep at my home. Lot of politics are involved in the process of transferring the individual from its current whereabouts to my habitat. And its always good to have lots of people on your side. But aunty seems aloof. I search her face for some topic that might cause a grin to surface. But I decide against opening my mouth. Instead, I use it to envelope pakodas.
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We are ferried out to some desert. Deagle runs along his hands. I find it extremely difficult to fix my gaze on him. They are yelling at me to get it done. I make for the double-doors, but the feet digs into the burning stretches of gold. The loser I am, I secretly know I will never make it. Her cleavage greets me as I fall headlong onto the sands. Warm and inviting, I take refuge in her bosom.

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Worried. Frequent glances at the watch do nothing but dampen my mood further. Treading through uncharted waters of despondency, I turn my gaze onto the darned textbook. Afraid of lifting up my face and be preyed on by professors, I try to think of something that would cheer me up. Smooth legs, Smooches ........ Aargh! I am running short of attendance. And I am off to squibble some calculations.

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Right now, I am hungry. 12: 50 AM. The 82nd Academy Awards runs on the television. And I see Sandra Bullock addressing the gathering. Thinking about setting off to Bro's Academy tomorrow. But pulled back by a lackluster commitment to the Chem professor. We all know who's gonna win. Yeah, I'm off.

Dil toh Bachcha hai re

The third guy does not come to join me in the wake of this dawn. Pink. Age skis through a white turf. Sulking in self, help me. The world is oblivious, the sentences are short and perspective skewed. Friday, 5 March 2010, 2:49 AM. Magic from the crystal heavens pour down onto my hands. Greedily I set out to weave an outlook not marred by self. In itself, a Contradiction. Fool's Paradise.

At the moment

Fraudulent
Lazy
A little tired
A little excited
Dirty
Shameless
Frustrated
Inferior
Confused
Jealous
Despondent
Blank

Dev B

Those hands pluck the violent guitar strings. And I, black, drunk, swerve my hips in rhythm to the beats. Heads roll on the floor, blood dips in and dies and dips in. I want to hear that fucking pound, the noise of my existence. Beat it out of me, hit me with your wards. Feet gulps in air, takes the burn on crashing. Take the cash, give me pain. Ether.

Memories that aren't mine fuse into the greyholes. Words that don't exist make way into the spellbooks. Hands sway amidst the pollution. Once, those pair of eyes lured my being. Tonight, Gandhi comes to the rescue. Drooping nipples cry in fervor, devoid of soft pressure. Hunger repressed, satisfied. Dilated, elated. Vision is interrupted and flickering. Too much air. Hands clutch onto them, eat it fool! Grasp more. Stop gasping and bite.
I can see the skies.
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I see the cursor playing back and forth, left and right. Rapid glances at the clock renders my heart weak. Still flogged by queries, the being limps on.
Colors fuse into cerebrum, churn out some familiar pulses. The beats continue to be optimistic.

Incoherence cafe

Without adornment, the self would never allow itself to surface. Locked away, floating on some unknown realm, it ceases to respond to my enquiry. But the physical embodiment was dragged across known turfs, lingering on damp lamped domes, awaiting motion on silver screens.


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A panting dog lies in despair. The blue dawn embraces me with a chill, the crimson fumes fall on its skin. It fixes its gaze on me, craving for a sympathy. My gaze flutters on his texture and indifferently puts away. It gets up and barks. Twice. My breath becomes heavy.


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Red skies.
Each flash is a startling sign that fate has finally found me. Voices are all that I hear.
The clothes go off. In embraces.Pulses rise, Salts trickle, life surges onto the slit.
Truths, all versions, contradict amongst themselves. It doesnt even travel the first metre. Limped, bruised, Truth buries her face in agony.
The Beat has regained blood for thought. The verve is new, shrouding the fallen stinks, aroma of a new realm fuse into the red fluid.
Letters dance topless. Unaroused, yet out of habit, they are let in. Back and forth, the play goes on. The dilated pupils hold broken stories of lust and deceit.

The world is quite round. If you look at it from one end, you can see it coming up from the other end. Its so unwavering in its roundness.
Sitting in a cloudy room, with rain drizzling a few feet from where I sit, I feel soulless. Looking beyond the window bars, I see a few drenched leaves get tickled. I see them but I don't feel them. My mind has become an opportunistic machine that always tries to splash vivid colours across other people's eyes. But I've become colourblind.
And when I drown myself in this sea of misfortune, I laugh sometimes. Mostly, I laugh at myself, and sometimes, for no particular reason.

I being I

Its like I am walking through this mist. I never knew when it came into existence. I don't even realise that it thickens with my every advancing step. But I can feel it. I feel it when I hear a prolonged silence from the other end of the receiver. I feel it when I look onto the monitor and try to distinguish between what is mine and what isn't. I have discovered what one turns to at the fag end of a boring period in life, you start to do nothing and blame the system. Systems are always going to be corrupted, fag. Whenever I don't reach where I intend to I teach myself to look away and point at other things and say " Ah! this is what I've always wanted". I wouldn't even dream of going near my dreams.
Well, the only thing that I can do is make a fuss about it and ask a few people to really tell you, with as much conviction as possible, that you are a great guy and you are going to reach somewhere. Ah! only if I were interested in someone else other than me.
I came across this saying by Fidel Castro "Everyday, when you don't come across any problems - you can be sure that you are travelling in the wrong path". If so, then I would be the guy zeroed in on that specified right path. Its such a bore to 'study'. It wouldn't be so boring to learn something. But its like, its not my responsibility to learn. Its like I am wagging my finger at the world saying ' You are missing a big oppurtunity here, guys, by not turning me into the right path".
What do you want to do with life ? Well, as of now, I would be pretty happy with a high speed net connection. You see, it buffers when I load a porn video. Then I would like to play cricket and football. Then, I would like to see a lot of movies. A lot of movies. Movies that I can lose myself in. I would like to fuck my girl. I would like to cuddle around her in an air-conditioned room with a Bravia running FRIENDS on it. Preferably season 2. I would like to be adored for the beauty in my inhalation and exhalation, the art of it. You see, I should be at the centre of the world, wanking away gleefully, waving to everybody with my feet.
But unfortunately, I am stuck up with a poor net connection, a bad stomach and a virus inhabited laptop. Moreover, I have to go to college! How worse can it get? Guys, if you are out there and have your eyes open, do take pity on me and send me money. Every month. I will keep posting about my ineptitude in doing whatever I want to. Only that I really don't want to.
Yes, you are right now witnessing the last moments in the day of an individual who realises that staying an individual never fetches you money for the rest of your life but never actually gets that onto his head. Good night and I really don't wanna leave this. Please, do ring me if you think that my writing is worth shit and would advice me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep. My number is 9567265863,