Hell is here
        And here
        And everywhere you don't want it to be
You cut to the part of the play where we see Rome burning
        YOU: Sisyphus! Here is your rock!
        ME: Thanks, I thought I lost it!

I hit pause.
Up I go and down I come a
        Merry-go-round that throws up red water
        Free as a stallion
        Free as a show pony

                 Running running running—

You pull me back into the auditorium
        With a thought unheard in an unclean
        Chalice I can't help but drink from
Water from my head filling the crevices that are
Hidden deep
        Deeper
                Deepest and—
Cue the [crash]! and [burn]!
       (Ha! Get it! You’re burning in hell!)

That’s all this is, isn’t it?
       A carefully scripted (comedy) tragedy by a (God) Devil.
I read the script again.
You’re drowning in the fire of your sins
"Condemned by the Father you once loved
Like an unfulfilled prayer
Gathering dust in hell."
I throw it in the fire.

        Running running running.

i am but a mere stranger in this ghost town
sitting on my throne with a silly little crown
here's to their words that cut to the bone
and the psychedelic skies guiding me home

Ten, nine-eight, seven,
Six-five, four,
Three-two, one.
Hopscotch.
No one questioned.
No one laughed or pouted.
The rain washed away the colours,
And we started again tomorrow.

Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
And so on.
We need answers.
We need reasons.
We are stuck in our tomorrows.
Our present fades out fast.

We are locked up in our timers;
Slaves to our master mints.
Our souls are dying,
With nowhere to hide
And no one to seek them.
Time does not stand still.

The chalk was our past time,
The clock is our taker,
And we play ourselves.

I'm on an escalator

It's a long one

It's too slow


The voices are in my memory

Endless chatter, laughter and footsteps

Oh silence please don't disturb my reverie


The darkness of the floor I'm going to

Is perturbed by the light of the floor where I was

Time carrying me away without my consent


There's life outside the window

I wonder why those faces are gloomy

Are their thoughts the same as mine


This place is artless

Colors are liars

All I'm left with is a sad monotone


A sad joke robbed my laughter

It's all meaningless

I don't want to feel like this ever again


I'm on an escalator

It was a long one

It was too slow


-Chaitanya Mohan Sharma

'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring
why are we exerting so much?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing  the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
then, why I see him in me?

Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the emerging pattern, ask them, what are the ways
That helps In curbing the pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?

When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?

If Everything recurs 'ad Infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability,
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering, this trade?

It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.