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It’s sad to realize that people we give our souls to, do not even give us their phone numbers.
The most frightening moments are those when all my clarity and conviction abandons me. I see another directionless journey ahead of me.
Strangers becoming boring because they don’t understand. Friends become boring because they understand too well.
My ideals become reality and crumble in my deromanticization. I need to build another dream.
I have successfully, albeit tragically, disillusioned myself of all the beautiful things that surround me.
I think people have me figured out. And their responses are automated.
The future does not excite me with its material possibilities. I am averse to accumulating useless knowledge. People nauseate me.
I know what I want. A baby.
I’m comfortable here inside this crypt
A mound by that door is where I usually sit
I stare at the ceiling with unblinking eyes
The temperature in here is gloomily nice
Once in a while a maggot passes by
I squirm quietly and just say Hi
‘Tis few months since the wooden walls closed
Layers of sand upon me while I dozed
In here throngs a glimmer of love
Some broken desires and an unkept vow
Hope coughs drily and the wind is almost nil
Yeah it can get unpleasant; that makes her ill
Some dirges seep in with the dawn and the dew
One more box of nails; who knows who.
Someone drops by with a lonely blue flower
I see a little child, a man and his lover
I laugh quietly. Been there done that.
He too agrees, my friend, Mr. Rat
Wind-borne comforts stain my epitaph
I bide my timelessness and take a little nap
A syllable from your love etched in poetry
Upon this stone lives to haunt my memory
Your pain, ocean-hued, blazes in vain
My love, do not make me want to live again.
1. Why do I have this constant need to make sense? Something is freaking wrong with me! :-s
2. I know I have turned beautiful. People hesitate to love me.
3. When you don’t talk you rip my inner silence apart. When you talk, I don’t listen.
4. Elephant talk. Elephant talk.
5. Why do I hesitate to swear on my blog?
6. Numbering sentences. Pah!
7. Judging every moment, word, silence, feeling, thought. Judging the judgments.
8. I delete sentences that autopsy me. Their lies have choked my truths and made secrets out of them.
9. Will you judge me when I write such things?
10. Glad to have you back. Heroin or not.
11. I like comments on my blog. :”<
12. Thou shalt not resist love.
13. Signal Fire
14. Cigarettes nauseate me. I love myself.
15. Cheese nauseates me. I love myself.
16. Your love nauseates me. I love myself.
17. My love nauseates you. You hate yourself.
18. eighteen pieces of exclusively mind-picked bullshit.
19.
20. I conned you.
I have often seen things that belonged to me, being given away to others and I have always watched it pretty much emotionless.
I believe that there is a lurking detachment in me at all times and I should only summon it with all my attention and I can get over any thing in this world.
I don’t need manipulative psychology, diplomacy, politics or misanthropic devices to give up on something. I’d either just walk away from the object without further thought or I’d find something else to look at. At times, I might hope that the object finds it way to something better… and it usually does.
From the time I was a child, I have been indifferent to a lot of things that other children would covet. Was always a weirdo I guess!
Now, however, I’m emotionless because I have reached the saturation point. Sitting here I can see the crowds of emotions thronging somewhere a hundred feet below but I see them all as little objects that are capable of possessing me and drawing me into them. I cannot say I don’t care. I should say I’m surprised. Comfortably numb perhaps.
I think I’ll become one of those selfish solitude lovers too.
I’m not happy. I’m not sad. I’m not lonely. I’m not content. I’m just objective. Think I have actually passed through the worst. If there is more to come, then well, what can I do? Face it, what else? 
You hurt me. You continue to hurt me for no reason. Others continue to hurt me because I let you hurt me. Others continue to hurt me for no reason. I hurt myself. I hurt myself because you and others hurt me. Because you and others hurt me for no reason. I hurt myself for no reason.
He hurts me by not remembering me.
You hurt me by remembering someone else.
Somebody hurts me by not remembering what I was.
Somebody hurts me for what I was.
Somebody hurts me for what I am.
Somebody hurts me for what I plan to be.
I hurt myself for what I was, am and plan to be.
Everybody hurts me.
Everybody will continue to hurt me.
Everybody will continue to tell me that I should not let anybody hurt me.
Everybody will continue to tell me that I hurt myself by letting others hurt me.
Nobody answers phone calls in distress. I have to retreat into my coffin then. Nobody wants to be friends with a messed-up girl. Nobody cares.
All of you told me you love me.
Some of you stopped talking to me.
Some of you stopped replying to me.
Some of you stopped attending my calls.
Some of you stopped dreaming about me.
Some of you stopped meeting me.
Some of you stopped being there for me.
All of you were afraid. Afraid of clingy, dependent, tiring, endless me.
Perhaps there would be someone
who loves the pain in poetry
who grows beyond the body
who has time for the lonely
who has value for tears
who will revive dead dreams..
I continue to hope. Just like me. And everybody would think that hope can save me and everybody will continue to ignore me.
I want to listen quietly
To your meaningless replies
And to the unwitting lies
I want that ruthless way
In which your mind denies
I want to capture truth
In your disapproving eyes
I want to want to want you
And want to accept love
That inevitably dies…
I will learn to analyze
Myself I’ll anesthetize
To dissect a little flower
And grandly theorize
On how it withers and dries
I’ll wear the conventional guise
And suppress my silent cries…
I’ll observe the twilight rise
Just punctuate it with sighs…
The dog unwinds
In the evening dust
A day full of aimless trotting
Sniffing beetles
Chasing crows
Nipping at invisible squirrels
Scratching
Kicking up dirt
The dog runs in circles
Tired and panting
At twilight it lies down
On the warm tar road
With twitching eyebrows
And an automatic tail
It howls inaudibly
To dispel the silence.
