We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

The point is not just to realize that all things are momentary,
But yes it is all, momentary.
Even if you are ****** thankful that things turned out miraculously alright,
It is flimsy.
It is fake.
It is superficial.
Even if you are ****** sad that things turned out awfully wrong,
It is flimsy.
It is fake.
It is superficial.
Everyone likes to predict,
Prophesize
And, do things a step better than how things would fare.
Just to emphasize that everything is customized.
That everything is superficial.
That everything is fake.
That everything is flimsy.
It is not just enough to say
That you’re different.
That you’ve gone past the worst,
The worst than what anyone can ever imagine,
Or even nightmare.
It is not just enough to say,
That you are happy,
That you are content,
At peace,
That you've gone past the best.
The best of what anyone's best enlightenment is,
Or what they dream of it.
Hence,
Even though it is momentary,
Flimsy, fake and superficial,
The only way is to
****, and let the killing go on.

It feels like,
Everyone and everything is just a figment of my imagination.
A fake reality!
Because however I expect,
In the simplest of situations if they would worry, wonder and rejoice in my tone;
If people around me empathized as much as me,
I mean, even just my family,
Faack!!!
How beautiful the world be!
But then, I wonder,
If I’m just another cockroach refusing to empathize,
Of another’s reality as well!!

Live Backwards is Evil.
Lived Backwards is Devil.
I guess now I have a silly strong excuse on what people mean by the experience of life.