The genius...

The multitude of circumstances, the variety of scenarios playing out, the everchanging ecosystems and the like lead to the rise and fall of creative minds. The genius behind any work was/is merely an accident in most of the cases. It is not that only the creators undergo change, the audience evolve equally and this makes it difficult to predict any of these.

Liberate thy self...

There is so much pain. It wants to gush out but there is no way for it to flow out. There is a constant pressure and stress on the vitals. It makes me look like a fool talking to a wall. Hence, the zone is closed. There is no purpose served and neither is there any response. Everyone around me takes everything about my Life for granted and that is why I have ended up like this. 

Epitome...

It is certainly difficult being born as an epitome of failure. Nobody likes to fail. Neither do they wish to do so. But, despite all the efforts, time, energy and everything that is involved in trying to avoid failing, when the ultimate result is otherwise, there we have myself shining brightly as the lone star burning off all the vocabulary at my own self. 

How dare you...?

If I have to write to you, I have very less to ask. Why did you do it? What made you do it? How could you do it? That's it. The years of shame that you are living now, I have nothing much to ask about. This high level of rage, that never ending sense of disgust, the realisation of how horrible humans can be, those are the constants in Life today. 

The tirade...?

Heavy sighs... Hurrying Life... Heart wrenching happenings... Melodies of yesteryears... Oh, how can it be thinkable to term it or throw it aside into yesteryears? Since when did it make sense to talk sensible, when the same senses and sensible talk went fishing while delivering the betrayal? If I lay claim on what is rightfully mine, how does a b@stard's daylight robbery and an uncouth rascal's decision make sense? Everything is flying past so fast. Where is the guarantee for my lost years and Life? 

Tonight it begins....

Tonight it begins. The night is so young but the routine is too old to make any difference. After a long long time, the flame has brought me back to scribble. The same flame that was supposed to give light at the end of the tunnel has eventually burnt the palaces out of existence. With nowhere to go, not knowing where to start or what to write, this space seems to be strange and weird. Alright, where or what do I start with?...