Prozac Nation

Winter has come Notions cling to the air capriciously Cease and Desist! The notice has been served and the Serotonin factory shall be closed Indefinitely Definitely Unemployed, happiness chooses the noose Panic in the capital A civil war of thoughts Torpedoes from a forgotten past Sinking of the heart Is there no solution? Unison, valium,

Awake

Within in these four walls I am free Yet trapped in consciousness Robbed of sleep Whence once snowed dreams Now stream questions The night is wet But the sun prepares its journey to the centre of the sky Will she see us? Are there stars out there tonight? Last call for the moon Nocturnal citizens

9 to 5

So my endeavor to write a post every night has quite simply gone to shit. Much like its many predecessors where I’ve managed to bring routine in to my way of life. A very futile exercise as I’ve now come to accept. Mating a shoe fly with a Pomeranian would be more in the realm

8 Months

That’s how long I’ve been using my Lumia Windowsphone and it has been great so far. It’s not a phone I’ve wanted to own, but now that I’ve had a chance to use it, don’t think I’ll be switching to anything else. Sure there are the shortcomings and delayed introduction of apps to it but

Dear Teetotalers and Non-smokers, Go Fuck Yourselves.

Insomnia: I have it. And it is not pretty. And there isn’t anything I can do about it except open up the ol’ task manager and figure out what’s running in the background, prompting the awakening. I probably should have listened to my psychiatrist but then again – fuck sleep. What a waste of time

Back on blogging

So I’m back. Time and discipline will tell whether permanently or just this night, but I’ve been told I need to find a routine or something to repeat on a daily basis before going to bed. Obviously masturbation seemed the easy way out but while a happy ending seems appealing, this seems more a means

A little something about depression

Never thought about writing something like this till recent. In fact, never thought about coming out about this openly. But having recently met a few people who haven’t yet had the epiphany, that realisation that time won’t fix a broken mind, at least not until it’s broken all else around; I’m compelled to put pen

In memory of Sarath

It’s been over a year since my last post, but today demanded it, because it’s not everyday you are present at the cremation of a great friend. Exactly two weeks ago, I accidentally called him very early in the morning and probably woke him up, but unlike me – who would have been instantly annoyed and

Blah

The young mother dangles the baby up and down by its fresh umbilical cord, like a yo-yo, deciding what she should do with it. Super glue is dripped into the eyes of the man they think is the culprit. Pseudo-charitable youth activists sit to talk about problems and argue with their prosthetic ideals. Hymns flood

Living real estate

The prostitute Rents space by the hour The Gold Digger A more expensive lease The Perfect Wife (In there is one) Home