Erratic Scribbles

Late November Rains

It’s been a while since it rained and the cold wind brushed against my skin. I want to enjoy the feeling, but an overwhelming feeling of fear and dread looms above me.

Life has been anything but dull and fearful however. Full of opportunities and people ready to help.

And yet here I am.

Loitering in a limbo of my own making, unable to escape, unable to push forward… Because I can’t even tell which way is forward anymore. Glimpses of the light at the end of the cave flash in the mind now and then, but that’s about it. I’ve never really come to fully realize them. I don’t know if I ever will.

I still don’t know what I fight for. In this abyss where only I belong. The life I have should be cherished and taken advantage of. To do something in the world that would benefit everyone. And yet here I lie, dreading tomorrow. Surrounding in a darkness that only engulfs me. And even the light of the sun seems bleak, and has little power to remove it. It’s the same story with the minds around me. They are but specs of dust in my void of nothingness.

I wish I knew how to deal with this. How to wake up early. How to work and concentrate. How to not disappoint myself, and others who rely on me. How to escape this weight I carry on my back and grow stronger.

This frustration won’t leave me and it doesn’t help. I’m always worrying instead of working to deal with my problems. I’m always lost looking for a way to deal with the monsters I face every night.

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I woke up to these November rain with a nightmare that made my stomach turn. An unpleasant beginning to a beautiful day. Something that I should be accustomed to at this point.

I don’t know why I write. Maybe it’s a cry for help. Maybe someone will read it one day and perhaps understand what I’m going through.

I wish I knew what to do with this darkness I carry in me. It drags me down with it to a place I don’t want to call home, and yet that’s where I spend most of my days today. Looking everyday for a way to escape and then crumbling back to where I stand, and giving up.

The lights go dimmer everyday. And my will diminishes every night. The darkness comes to feed in me and I comply. For what will I do that will fend it off? It just comes back for me in different faces, in different forms.

Maybe I’m not meant to be saved. And that there’s a point to all this that I am unaware of.

I wish I knew if that was the case. I could at least stop trying.

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Poetry

Home

Please spare me,
From what eats me.
I can bearly lift a finger,
Against what comes after me

In the shadows,
In the night,
At dusk,
After the noise settles, it comes

Creeping in,
A crawl, and then a step.
Not knowing what approaches;
A figment of imagination stretched

It twists and turns,
Into what it wants,
Into what I fear it wants,
Into what it wants.

What is it that haunts me,
What is it that creeps in?
Of life, but full of death,
Anger subsides in memories.

I’m left as a husk,
Devoid of life,
Devoid of strife,
All because, I’ve a haunting pet beside.

Acceptance of cries,
Acceptance of sighs,
What has become of my life,
With this haunting nightmare at my side.

Give me hope,
Give me life,
I yearn for more,
And yet I lie here in demise.

I want to see more,
I want to hear,
And yet I am here;
Incapable of putting up a fight.

Help me brace myself,
Against this shadow.
Against it’s brother death.
Help me, against my own breath.

I don’t know what to do
I don’t know where to see
All I see are dark horizons
Across the sea

The memories that haunt me
They live in me.
The life that taunts me,
Has long gone past by me.

And yet the vivid memories of sea
Still stay beside me
Of the winds that blew
Of the smells I rue

The sea turns black
The sky turns grey
As I relive my memory
Every other day.

Please help me.
Please spare my soul.
Of this disease I carry,
Of wanting to go home.

Poetry

Mind’s Solace

Perhaps in the edges of darkness,
A light exists that shines beyond,
But I’m here standing on the shore,
With the shadows of an unseen giant dawned.

I’m fireproof, but the cold within
Ate apart at my sanity,
Leaving behind a brittled reality.
And the shadows, they crawl up my skin.

For it seemed to be like eons,
Since the world around had life and colour.
A blank dust of grey, covers the surface.
With each passing day, the fervor within felt smaller.

Each stumble, pieces of me break and fall
And with every crumble, I crawl to my place.
But is it worth it to be in this race
Is it worth it, just for another rainfall?

The world keeps changing,
Uninterested of another’s plight.
People take lives for granted,
Unconsciously snuffing out their light.

Promises granted one after another
But how many do follow through
Maybe not a handful, but definitely only a few
And so we end up at the mercy of other

Maybe the pain will leave,
Maybe it will end up being smaller.
But the life I live, the reality my mind conceives,
Is but a disaster that fits like an iron collar.

Of the notions my mind creates,
It can’t help but ask, what have I done to deserve this fate.
O my whimsical impulses and desires,
Why have you brought me here, in front of closed gates.

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Featured Image Credits: Link

Poetry

Unrelenting

Perhaps the words I want to say,
Will never leave me in a way
As dust and fog cloud my world
You stand there standing, underestimating

A broken mess of a soul
Is what I’ve become
A foul soul livid with rage n sorrow
A fragile self with no yearn for tomorrow

For the cliched life in me
You were the world to me
Dreams that won’t be fulfilled
But grow inside, waiting, mocking, baiting

Perhaps the answers I seek,
Will never lend themselves to me
As rain and lightning breaks my self,
You stand there, not understanding

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A pleasure for the soul
Now breaks inch by inch
A pickaxe slowly cutting astray
Of self that I had hidden away

Hatred n sorrow is all I feel,
As an embodiment of lies fester and grow
Why have I not realized it yet
That perhaps I am that,
That perhaps I am sorrow.

What is it that takes to connect,
To another in ways that one can’t comprehend
Why is it that words are too less
To describe what my self had felt

I wish for nothing but the desires I have
It’s perhaps selfish but i know
And I stand here, still standing
As you walk away, leaving.

As I stare,
As I desire.
As I watch my dreams with leer.
As I still stand here, unrelenting.

Continue reading “Unrelenting”

Poetry

Rebuilt With Fire

Why is it that I can’t move,
Nor can I stay in one place.
It’s like life has forgiven me,
And yet has strangled me.

The ambitions, dreams, motivations,
They matter little to me.
Unlike before;
They no longer drive me

Poetry feels like penance
For crimes never committed.
Unless unfulfilled dreams,
Were crimes for me to see.

It’s as if light has averted me;
Dwelling in darkness is all I see.
For little has perhaps changed,
Discounting the hope that has forgone me.

Like a broken glass vase,
Rebuilt with the ire of fire.
What has life become for me.
What has life become of me.

Erratic Scribbles

Survival

Changing. Adapting. Unlearning old things.

In a world where survival of the fittest is a very real thing, ‘fittest’ for the average human being in the modern day world, only till a certain extent, meant the shell that embraced his being.

Survival for us, it seems, was based a lot more on the ability to adapt to situations, change when the need requires you to and erasing certain parts of your past, in order to move ahead. It’s like cleaning wounds, it’ll always hurt but sometimes, the pain we feel now is necessary so that we won’t grow up broken with a disease that just grows with us and breaks us even further.

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Credit for above art: Pinterest.com

But sometimes, analogies don’t do some situations any justice. Sometimes, it’s up-to us to see certain things for the individual uniqueness they might be. Sometimes, the change we have to endure is more than just a simple painful process, maybe even a psychological one. Sometimes, the ability to adapt, means that you’ve to sacrifice a lot more than you gain, because situations demand so. Sometimes, unlearning things mean forgetting the past that you held so dearly till only a few months ago, and in a way, letting go of who you were till then.

We’ve all grown up with mistakes and learnt our best lessons from failure, yet we make an environment where failure is the last straw. What are so we afraid of today really, if not of the failure to be what we are?

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Credit for above art + featured cover art: Picolo-kun

We live in a world of paradoxes. Like pandora’s box, we search for a truth where there exists none. We stare at reality with our perspective lenses, willing to believe that there’s a validation in the world which will tell us what the right thing to do is. We have grown up in a world where we’re afraid to make our own road if there exists none, and in a way, have lost ourselves in someone else’s path and in someone else’s search for the truth they believe in.

But why is it that we’re never given a chance to stay. Stop. And just stare.