The Price of Comfort

Raindrops splash in a puddle,
As your feet try to find solid ground,
On a night filled insatiably,
With the howls of creatures the devil found,
Making no mistake, you step on,
On and on and on,
Till a street comes by,
And your entire party stops,
Afraid of the engulfing darkness,
Afraid of what lies within,
Afraid, they look to you,
And you, willingly submit,
Though you know the consequences to be dire,
It’s in your nature to be servile,
And so you illuminate the dark realm,
Using the light of your life,
You give yourself away,
So others may survive.

White Beauties

White beauties,
Shone only in an expanse of pitch dark,
Drift away into oblivion,
Escaping from the clutches of my heart,
They shine on,
Never ending,
Close to the eye,
And yet far from this part,
Breaking dawn into other worlds,
While howls of beasts break the silence in mine.

Oh, you white beauties,
Won’t you descend onto this lifeless gloom,
Make the rock worth residing on,
Break the chains, from which I’m bound,
Unnecessary pints are disappearing, white beauties,
These pints were dearer,
a long time ago,
Come near, white beauties,
come nearer and nearer.

No, you white beauties,
Tread no closer,
You’ve burnt my eyes,
you’ve dried up my rock,
yet you still hang there,
now whiter than ever before,
you consume souls, white beauties,
you’re harbingers of death,
In a world where only darkness exists,
White beauties, you’re the reason,
Crimson red flows from my rock,
Melting everything in sight,
I must say goodbye, white beauties,
before my jaw goes up in flames.

The Trap of all Traps

They warned me about this, ‘they’ being the people who were teenagers when I was a lad of 7 and also those who were in their early twenties at the same time. They warned me about growing up; they told me it’s a trap, they told me to stay the same young spirit forever. But I didn’t pay much attention to their advice (I was a rebel.), and here I am, nine years later, telling the same thing to my ten-year-old sister. I guess you can’t help growing up; you can only go straight up, isn’t it? Well, she’s not paying much attention to what I’m saying either, she might regret it, I dunno. Growing up, I wish I wasn’t always in such a hurry to figure out what it’s like to be an adult. The entire stigma they had tried to build around me only worsened things and fastened the process. Looking back, I now realize how wrong I was about everything, how bad it feels to be 16 and lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends, my parents love me, I have a lot of people who I know love me and I love them, but, It’s not about how much they love me or not, I just feel hollow on the inside. I wonder if every other person feels like this, or rather, I wish they don’t, cause no one should ever have to go through this shit. This is absolute bullshit, this thing that everyone calls life, is bullshit. Life should be all about living in the moment, doing what you love, doing what you want, believing what you want to believe in, being yourself. But here we are, rotting away, slowly, thinking about the future, ignoring the present and overthinking about the past and simultaneously not caring about anything. Hypocritical stance? Why yes it is, Sherlock, thank you for noticing. But, it is what it is, and I do not know what to do anymore. I wanna write, I wanna create, I wanna make people happy, I wanna make my parents proud, I wanna be happy. But no, that’s not gonna happen. Thank you for this, society. Thank you for telling me that I can’t have a good life without going to a good college and getting a fancy degree after spending literally every last dollar that my parents have ever earned. Thank you for not telling me that that degree will never help me in getting a job, nor will it ever help me do something meaningful. And thank you for sending me to school, where I only developed bad mental health and learnt how to spit racial slurs and disrespect women. Ah, but no, please don’t pay attention to any of that like I didn’t pay attention to everyone’s advice about growing up. It’s good for you. ‘Til next time, Svaraj.

Looking into a mirror

In a world full of smiling faces,
I too am one,
Knowing fully well of this facade I put up,
To stop being alone,
Hidden behind a smiling face,
I’m afraid of being undone,
I’m afraid to know what’s hidden behind yours,
In a world full of smiling faces like my own.

Fleeting Memories

So you finally come to me,
and sing a medley of love songs,
but to me,
it sounds like vultures searching for blood,
you are no minstrel,
But have intentions like that of the Pied Piper,
I lie, retrospecting, and the heroin kicks in,
Lying on a bed of air, I dream of carcass,
a carcass inhering in a field of disappointment,
being hunted by lost dreams and unwanted offspring,
rock solid ground below, wavering souls above,
the body dissolves into the ground,
the soul remains, now another amongst the billions,
preaching about the truth of life like a newbie,
while millions more rise from dissolved bodies,
coming to preach only some more,
the heroin wears off, I wake,
your face fleeting from my memory as it were here only a few moments back,
newspaper on the table, dated a month ago,
your face in the autopsy,
a knife with dried blood remains,
my fingerprints on it.

An end that never comes

Music, meth and some pills for depression,
Are all that I need
to survive in this lonely world of grey.
A disappointment to everyone and a bipolar asshole;
I am but a leech.
Some may call me an idiot, others; a jester,
I live for the smiles I put on peoples faces,
Only to be greeted by police vans and later, leg braces.
“What is the point of life?” I ask myself, sulking in a terrible world of emotion.
Oh look, a funny little head with invisible lotion. A delusion?
I tell myself that it’ll end one day,
I tell others the most random things ever, for I live for their laughter.
Serenity and rebellion, two things that don’t go together,
are in my mind, all the time, feasting on a lump that just gets bigger.
My sardonic nature has caused many a great friend to give up and leave.
Oh depression, thou art a friend, not a foe,
for I have found an excuse for all that I do with aggression,
broke a vase? Blame it on the depression.
“Don’t go near him.” They say, “He might just cry and laugh at the same time.”
I sit alone, with open arms,
waiting for an end that never comes.

The Answer

I look at the grey skies and wonder where the silver lining is. I want it to rain, but I also don’t want it to rain. I want to see the rainbow when the rain ends but I also don’t want to deal with the rain. This continual up and down that people refer to as life, is not actually life. Life should be full of happiness and sunshine, not rain and dry leaves. But I guess every bright day must face the brutal dick of time and succumb to darkness. Sigh, darness, how I fear you. Why must you drain this mortal world of colour and pave way for the demons to come out of people. Sometimes I’m awake at two A.M. and all I have are the demons inside my head and the one lying in my bed; they struggle to come out. I know I must be strong but my body has been stripped off of all energy. I want to sleep, I want to dance, I want to kill someone, I want to get high, I want to play football, I want to let the demons take over and die. Die. Death. Death may spook some people out, but it is all I think about lately. Why do I want to die? Why do I want to leave everything behind and be forgotten? Is it for eternal happiness? Nobody knows what happens when you die, so that’s not the answer. The answer, however, I might never get to know. It might be only because of over thinking, but it feels so real. I’m on a bus with 45 other people, I could talk to anyone and be/have fun, but no, I’m just gonna sit here all depressed and be anti-social. Welcome to my life. This sad life that I have spent searching an answer to and have come to no specific conclusion about it. That is what I do. I search for an answer. And all I want, is an answer to life before I die.