creeping insanity of delusional reality
has been a regular dose of psychosis.
Illusion of your vivid structure
on a clear night skies along the moon
or be it the theatrical performance
of the gloomy clouds
in forming your flamboyant reflection
delusion of you never seem to seize.
the existential bummer-
existence of me without you,
existence of your imagery everywhere
-reality itself seems like a dream trapped in a virtual nightmare.
The fact that the distance between us-
suffice to fit this universe and millions more
-let us know how far apart we are,
the hypnotic pair of eyes you possessed
i am obsessed with purified version of you.
I exist in a simulated reality you designed
-the lunatic that i have become-
created for my existence.
the very existence.
the very existence of me captivated in a void, in a nothingness, surrounded by these material beings
lifeless as it seems, but these are what i interact with for a glimpse of you.
the futility of existence
of giving hope, the dream, the vision of what is to be
only to have it all crashing down like a castle made of glass
shattered and broken with a single crack.
The hope of heaven on earth, the clairvoyance of you and me walking hand in hand forever and ever
the eternity of being larger than this universe even though we are a trivial being living within it,
only to realise it was a constructed memory based upon the blind sighted affection and gratitude
and the very existence of remaining time, consumed by emptiness, is to deconstruct the same memory
while living through it every day -physically and virtually.
Deconstruction, the dismantle of the memory is the most agonizing and very much hated.
The worthless anticipation
the known probability is next to zero or even negative yet the heart hangs by the skin for the possibility of what might be
in this infinite universe.
Its so pathetic, the passing of time, the ticking of clock and yet the anticipation never disappears
rather the anxiety grows larger and larger pushing the button for this urge to make a first move, or a millionth one.
A mistake, may it be, the anxious anticipation
this uncontrollable desire
but you were a shot of dopamine and we both knew it.
you know what i hate, the knowledge of nonexistent.
The knowledge of nonexistent
is a frightening thought as at one point
we were a singularity and we big banged into our own creation
our own universe, revolving around each other
until you destroyed me completely
you destroyed me completely and mercilessly
engulfing the very existence of me like a blackhole devouring the entire galaxy.
And now a meaningless creature that i have become as you shine upon others light
i cant help but wonder does that light outshines my entire purpose, my entire existence.
tell me am i nonexistent to your futile existence?!
the comfort you seek on those random arms
are they warm enough to bury the cold you left me?
did you find your happiness,
prices over my lost soul?
are the colors bright in your room?
scarred and stabbed, i bounce on this dark one.
searching and waiting
wishing you were here.
does it feel heavenly
trading my love for the gold ring?
hellish that i have become
frozen, broken, shattered and numb.
divine must be the walks on those streets now
once where you’d hold my hands with hope.
bleeding and dying
wishing you were here.
Do you think you can tell?
shattered glass from empty skies,
moaning stars on naked nights.
fractured heart from broken might?
do you think you can tell?
your voice echo
burning desires and dropping tears.
what have you found?
what have i found?
comfort in pain,
pain in comfort?
lost in disdain
wishing you were here.
every morning every night
stories of horror
of whats done wrong and whats done right.
the deceiving smile of you shining bright
like and angel
eating me alive
wish you were here
[The title has been shamelessly stolen from Pink Floyd’s ultra famous tune “Wish You Were Here”. Not just the title, as you read (if you happen to read) you will know other things have also been lifted from the same track. Before anyone points out, I accept it myself that it is blasphemous of me to even use anything from this timeless tune. ]
[im not the kind that kills people
im the one that dies for sacrifice.]
The unbeckoned melancholia
kicks in again
the visions and dreams once possessed
are turned into ashes
the histories are being washed away
with the growing tears
its not like everything reminds me of you now that i cant have you
remembering you is a habit
a curse from the heavens
of mighty disgusting angels where you once bestowed.
happiness has been an urban legend
a mystical creature
a mysteries among the river.
im not a fuckin phoenix
that you burn
and i rise again from the ashes.
im washed away by the mere wind.
so i write you a love letter
from these walls im trapped in
from the day you shot me dead
its all over the walls painted in red
the unreckoned melancholia.
The sanctity of the sanctuary
lingering to the past
the guns of war are rusted now
the barrels only hold the memory of fire
it has forgotten the taste of powder
the spark and the friction
the blood and the demon.
Drenched in the handkerchief of misery
are the stains of victory
the pumping blood of fury
triggers unconscious state of anxiety
search for the bones for some sympathy
nothing seems to hold the world together rather than self empathy.
The laughters are snatched
and joyous ecstasy are blown
100 days of horror
insist upon the revolution
inside lies the shattered glass of tragedy,
violence is the only solution
im only conditioned to die.