2'o clock in the Friday night at office is a perfect time to break free. I am running out of the office to breathe and searching for a cigarettes to smoke out suffocation. I have just written a poem in my mother tongue. I was like on the verge of explosion due to this restricted lifestyle. I am on the verge of panic.
I am becoming heavily drug addicted to facebook, cricinfo, emails and blogging. 3 days at home had just passed in refreshing facebook status and reading some bull shit about world. And this shit has got to stop! The reality of the world depends on where you stand. Its heaven for some creatures and full of illusion and suffering for me.
The madness and complexity in relations is driving me nuts. Socialization by wearing a humble mask is making me schizophrenic. I wish to return to solitude and silence. Only that can bring order to my chaotic consciousness. Life is calling into the void, the wild inside can't be tamed by false love and sympathy.
I love the fragrance of the earth after the rain. Once upon a time, I was feeling close to the death and understanding of the world expanded exponentially. This increase of sensitivity left me vulnerable, open and fragile. The constraint to go social is unsettling for me.
I am thinking about my past now. Its the illusion of great childhood. I had grown on the dope of idealism that was necessary also otherwise whole humanity became practical (crooked) till young age. Then, I thought about ours addiction to entertainment . I have seen porn clips and find it highly good sometime. But the question arises here, entertainment can be porn or not ?
Have you ever heard both Hindi and English version of 'Baavra man' song. They are like the old man looking back to his past for un-achieved love and wishes. Death seems to be more close and gives the feeling of mortality. I relate to him in an unknown way by just hearing this song. Just bleak images of the poster of Wild Strawberries emerge in front of my eyes.
Nothing changes in the world however hard we try. Only death and life is inevitable and true. Rest of all existence is just Kafkaesque or Mithya. I am not even being or ever born. I only exist to understand meaning of the life and death. Its fascinating to live in present and blabber under mental turmoil. I will regret in the morning for this scribbler spirit of the night. These psychedelic moments and post contains enigma of mine life. This moment will pass for never to come back again like me.
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