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I closed my eyes for a moment,
the person who I was
no longer knows who I am.

soaring through the cosmos of my thoughts
memories which I can't remember
drown in a sea of embers

the simplicity of being
entangled in the finer nuances of be
something you dream of
someone you think of

it's never enough

I closed my eyes for a moment,
bits of whatever I define as poetry
turned into an incoherent mumble.



meaning between the lines
time flies

in 2699 days from now
i'll be laughing

what a cruel joke
thinking time will fix


we become better
at forgetting
What good is time
that never stops its flow
if I'm consuming mine
laboring to pay the toll
to shadows I've never seen,
instead of building the Sun
to brighten your darkest of days.

What good are the vibrations of the Universe
pouring rhythmically through this verse
when the sound of your being
is a Universe on its own.

What good are words
that create a myriad of worlds
if they fail to explain
what you mean to me, up here
in the labyrinth of my brain.

Should I ever forget the colours of my soul
and you happen to remember them;
Let me flow, bask for a little while
in your glow.
The World lays its exaggerated, broken illusions of who I'm supposed to be
on the weary waves of my brain. I find myself torn between
my superfluous existence and the struggle of a mind craving tranquility.

The World lifted the veil and I can see the nightmare
of what we subjectively define as reality being poured into glasses,
we drink it to quench our thirst, polluting the magnanimous beauty
of our holy souls.

The World whispers its ***** secrets into me,
I no longer see what I want to see,
instead I float with the current, swept with the rest of similarly confused souls,
ready to merge into the sea of Self Loathing and Misery.

The World no longer paints my dreams in colours, they are no longer relevant,
everything is black and white just to further spite my confusion.
Dichotomy is the only answer
to the myriad of questions flooding my curiosity.

The World tells me I'm worthless and I am.
I accept your gentle embrace,
I revel in my own meaninglessness, a nobody screaming to no one.
I will never amount to anything and my life is no more
than a grain of sand in your vast desert.

The World tells me I no longer matter, I don't.
My gray matter is only a chunk of rotting flesh waiting
to be embraced by your mercy, death.
Even these abstract ideas, thrown around in filigree don't matter,
after all they only perpetuate the illusion of me.

The World I am no longer myself and I believe it.
I am the product of your words, the spitting image of your broken physique,
whenever I look in the mirror I see you.
None of these thoughts are mine, they're all yours, beaten into me
over a century, thousands of years  of evolution and here I stand
complete in your image.

The World tells me to get perspective so I do.
I see myself as a caricature, hunched over these blank pages
pretending I know what I'm writing about.
A heavy sigh leaves my body and  I can't help but laugh at my own ridiculous, petty  self.
I take a step further back and I watch myself watching myself,
One idiot looking at the first one, laughing. I turn my head and there is an infinity
of 'myself'', all of them cracking up.
It's pathetic because I am the one
drowning in my own mediocrity
while I find myself laughing to infinity.
Perspective my ***.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem for you.

I'm writing this super poem with my life, everyday when I go to work
and 'pick' my dreams away.

I'm writing this super poem with an exaggerated sense of importance
because you are all so important to me.

I'm writing this super poem with super ink and super time because
clearly, absolutely, surely, convincingly I spend every nano second
worshiping your infinite grace and surreal qualities.

I'm writing this poem with super confusion because the fusion
of your muse with my poetics can only scramble together
stubs of rhyme and rhythm, repetition comes naturally
when you teach me that empathy means sympathy for the Machine.

I'm writing this super poem to praise your ultimate super creation, the Machine.

Machine, whose arms are molded to lovingly wrap themselves around me.
The right arm, religion and school strips me bare until I'm left servient,
ready to praise the left one, politics and consumerism.

Machine, whose eyes are never closed, gaze into the vastness of our beings
and swallow the forests of our souls. They are always on the look for more,
always vigilant and never ever ever satisfied.

Machine, whose arteries are the railroads, roads,
infested with locomotives, cars speeding towards their own meaningless end,
blowing and honking their horns
for they can't see through the thick veil of oozing smog.

Machine, whose veins are the internet, complex networks of web
trapping millions of disillusioned shards as they desperately try
to define their own humanity.

Machine, whose brain is capital. The almighty dollar, euro, pound, yen, ruble,
all rushing towards banks to ****, sweat, ***, ******,
birthing interest, famine, debt and helplessness.

Machine, whose soul is war, greedily consuming lives
to satisfy the eyes, arteries, veins and  the brain.
It's all in vain when death becomes a statistician, tragedy is numbed by the number
and the never ending slumber continues.

Machine, whose everything became my everything,
I can only find myself at ease when I please
with the entirety of my being.

I'm writing this super poem under the shades of a beat generation
because I find it resonates well with my vibrations
and I'm crawling, crawling, crawling towards your acceptance,
clawing, clawing, clawing through everything I am.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem because I am tired,
beaten, broken by the endless charades you create
while I try to melt into the Sun.
Words: different, hooves, logic, endless, wrong, conscious, rare, cold, sad, mystical

The Mystical Unicorn Speaks

'Different hooves leave different prints
sometimes even we have to change shoes!
Now, don't get me wrong
I'm not here to change your perception,
I know I can't argue with your strong
and undeniable logic.

I'm just a regular unicorn
whom caught a cold, surely
I must be growing old!
Don't be sad, neither of us
take a conscious decision to do so
Just hop on my back and let's ride
the endless rainbow, show the world
we take pride in our rare ability
to escape the disability of a mind
tethered to reality.'
Words: rust, viral, blackout, hunchback, autopsy, bases, aftertaste, gurgle, bring


The bases of my thoughts rust
under the blessing of the muse.

As I inhale particles of cosmic dust
the urge to use
the narcotic come to be known as her skin
grows stronger, inviting me to perform
the autopsy of these broken syllables.

'Like the hunchback of Notre Dame
I'm pulling all the ropes at your temple
yet there's no sound to trample
the aftertaste of your inspiration.

All I'm left to do is gurgle
with some random letters,
Spit out the remains
and as I watch them evaporate
under the warmth of your dry Sun
I can only hope my words go viral
helping me escape the never ending spiral
of emotions you always bring.

Surround me in shades of white
shine some of your light
Wake me up from my state of black,
I'll never look back
Words: bump, stone, address, captivity, homeless, costumed, bachelor, flood, crawl, conflict

The bachelor costumed as a clown
keeps on singing with a frown:

'A mind in captivity
will never come to know how stone
fades in the glow of time
oh baby you'll always be mine.

Even if I have to crawl towards your smile
baby I'll love you for more than a while
Even if the great flood comes again
baby I'll be sure to remind you then
How I'm the only man whom loves you
baby it's true, oh baby it's true

Should I end up homeless
or singing alone in the rain, hopeless
I'll think of you in a dress, address
the world my love for you
Oh baby, you know it to be true

Should I bump into conflict as I stand
before the world confessing my addiction of you
I'll take all the pain as a man
baby I know I'm plain yet I feel
your love will always flow through my veins
baby if you hold the reins
I'll pull your carriage to the ends of time

Oh baby, please be mine.'
Get in the mood.
Elevate your state of being
we're about to create
a bond that can't be broken
as your mind creates sense
of all these words that are seen
but never spoken.

Let us melt our beings into complete darkness
and live a thousand lives as criminals
whom refuse the rule of the machine,
You and I, we've always been
doomed to be forgotten.

Hear me when I say
it does not matter
whether it's black or white
What we hold between us
is carried on a breeze throughout the night
more so, beyond the dawn of a new day
piercing into a reality
that is the bane of existence.

Let's dissipate into a thousand colours
and paint over the gray essences
of all those similarly broken souls
whom never really had a clear view
of their goals.

Shall we
Cast aside the boulders we carry,
witness the marriage of mind and matter
until there's nothing left of us
merely a splatter
hidden somewhere, nearly forgotten
in the consciousness of strangers
building their dreams.
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