To do that ... I happen to write!

Saturday, 17 October 2009


Plugged in, shutters shut, wings in front of the vent fluttering no more, door shut - locked, sugar dry and sticky in the cup, missing on keystrokes, suicidal thoughts, beacon light.

Push away, walk, Click open, Click open, Pour, Stir, Click close, Click close, Pull again, Plug in, type, drink.

Dying music, slowing heartbeat, blurring vision, languorous gain and mien, 'ya garib nawaz'

Google searches on LSD, shaking head coming out of dreams, shivering with horror, 'i hate trips', i think so. tried. i do.Wasted day. Wasted I.

Where are you, why did you disappear, what is to happen, where is the daylight, where are you. I know. I know.

Gentle skittering in the distant sky, so usual, 'here I am', the world has changed, future is curvy, 'here I am'.

What is life? I think i know. No it was LSD that knew.

White white-board. No more. In green, I wrote - Life - 1) Live. 'Gumsum Gumsum'

Long lists, half frozen laughs, sharp turn ahead, go slow, half frozen prayers, 'love me tomorrow'

Favorite song. Of life and fights, I take notice. Listen. Listening can do wonders. What you think you write, what you write you think. No wonder about the sad life of Ayn Rand and more recently of Sarah Cane, don't even try reading 'Blasted', forget seeing it.

More real now, fading drug thoughts. Thoughts can be so powerful.


I love this.

2nd in a row, and an upcoming birthday. Bright sky outside, cold air hugging me tight.
'shimmering lights'. I race. I run. I go back to place, cozy bed, safe thoughts, friends, harness. Still I am thinking. 'lit up the candle'

I am back. I am. I was never lost. A self created low. Stupid. Interesting.
Upcoming birthday. Shining lights. Lonely road. Cold air. Speeding. Bumping. Turning. Scuppering. Still thinking.

What you think you write, what you write you think.


  1. ooh.
    Intense. And powerful. I like. Very Pretty Much. :)

    PS - Methinks there is no such thing as fiction. Know what I mean?

  2. hi!

    Your phrase "What you think you write, what you write you think"...I so like it))

    our life is art. a person has his own "white sheet" since his birth.he creates and paints on it because he is an artist of his life..and everyone chooses the colours for painting his sheet... :)

  3. @Hedo - No. I don't know what you mean. Fiction is afterall, true lie.

    @Alyona - Yes, you pointed it out very beautiful. Your writing shows the kind of nature lover person you are :)

  4. You write the title as 'esoteric' and end the post with the word 'fiction'. And you expect that someone will believe you! Huh!

  5. Aye, Non Believer. Fiction is 'True Lie' baba :D