CRTL +ALT+ DEL
A click and a whirr, a machine that begins again, a routine, a schedule unbroken. I read the lines again, type again, leave my coffee stale again, the smudges the table again, the clock ticks again, silence againAgain….
A word of monotony, a world of repetition, tautology. And we exist, remorselessly, not because there is no gloom, because there is no place for a tear, we exist without joy, not because there is no wish to celebrate, but revelry is incongruous, every act, decided, every decision, predetermined, every word well thought, every though well laid, every…
Repetition, of words, of sentences, of people, faces….
A mix of faces, a random mix of similar lookers. Yes all of us, similar, clones photocopies. Similar goals, similar wants, similar desires, similar fears, similar apprehensions, similar envies, similar friends, see… repetition. And any deviation is marked lunacy, a parasitical term. Parasitical, yes parasitical, lunacy, estrangement, envy, outcaste all are parasitical. When we want to feed on the social incapacities of him, when we want to scavenge on the dead ego, when we wish to survive on the once supple mind gone dead… to eradicate the vestigials of an alternate existence, we label it madness…
And then we write, we emote, we exercise our rights, we cry out to break monotony, we cry everyday, we cry out again, he cries out again, they, us you all cry out again to break the shackles today morrow in a week, everyday, again…
Déjà vu, yes again….
Again, the will to be different, again a necessity to differentiate, again a decision to think beyond, again a decision to ideate….again to never do it again…
Irony you call it, cyclic I call it, Destiny you say, decision I say, reality you name, mirage, I christen.
Mirage, yes, illusion, a sleight of time, a magic of life, a game of words.
A mirage, that no nomad wants to seek, a sleight that we turn a blind eye a game that we are an unconscious part of….
Three dots and incompletion, loss of words, no loss of thoughts, no loss of different thoughts, no loss of emotions, no loss of urge to emote, no loss of the urge to liv and thre dots to signify it…
A click and a whirr… and a sweat that trickles down my temples. A drop seminating from desire, a desire sparked from anguish, an anguish triggered by hope a hope created by desperation a desperation membered by want, a want manifested by life a life embered by the drop of sweat….see I said it was cyclic…
A click and a whirr….and the clock ticks, and a drop falls on the keys…when finally my fingers try in vain to punch CTRL ALT DE…
Three dots, I said and a lost life
A word of monotony, a world of repetition, tautology. And we exist, remorselessly, not because there is no gloom, because there is no place for a tear, we exist without joy, not because there is no wish to celebrate, but revelry is incongruous, every act, decided, every decision, predetermined, every word well thought, every though well laid, every…
Repetition, of words, of sentences, of people, faces….
A mix of faces, a random mix of similar lookers. Yes all of us, similar, clones photocopies. Similar goals, similar wants, similar desires, similar fears, similar apprehensions, similar envies, similar friends, see… repetition. And any deviation is marked lunacy, a parasitical term. Parasitical, yes parasitical, lunacy, estrangement, envy, outcaste all are parasitical. When we want to feed on the social incapacities of him, when we want to scavenge on the dead ego, when we wish to survive on the once supple mind gone dead… to eradicate the vestigials of an alternate existence, we label it madness…
And then we write, we emote, we exercise our rights, we cry out to break monotony, we cry everyday, we cry out again, he cries out again, they, us you all cry out again to break the shackles today morrow in a week, everyday, again…
Déjà vu, yes again….
Again, the will to be different, again a necessity to differentiate, again a decision to think beyond, again a decision to ideate….again to never do it again…
Irony you call it, cyclic I call it, Destiny you say, decision I say, reality you name, mirage, I christen.
Mirage, yes, illusion, a sleight of time, a magic of life, a game of words.
A mirage, that no nomad wants to seek, a sleight that we turn a blind eye a game that we are an unconscious part of….
Three dots and incompletion, loss of words, no loss of thoughts, no loss of different thoughts, no loss of emotions, no loss of urge to emote, no loss of the urge to liv and thre dots to signify it…
A click and a whirr… and a sweat that trickles down my temples. A drop seminating from desire, a desire sparked from anguish, an anguish triggered by hope a hope created by desperation a desperation membered by want, a want manifested by life a life embered by the drop of sweat….see I said it was cyclic…
A click and a whirr….and the clock ticks, and a drop falls on the keys…when finally my fingers try in vain to punch CTRL ALT DE…
Three dots, I said and a lost life
Funeral service by Ganty> at 7:51 PM
