Living dead

"Egoists. That's what we are." said she.
"I, you, her, we would've all been much happier."
The honesty by which we spoke last night rattled me. My soul unhinged, I painted my fears into spoken words. I spoke of my madness, mindlessness, insanity that plagued me for 8 hours, that plagues me even now. Like a dam broken, I confided, confessed, continually. Too afraid to stop talking, I emptied myself.


There is no consolation left but we forge on still. Expectations, lying on our shoulders like a straight jacket.

                                    Straight-jacketed into fulfilling their expectations for us, 

paying our debt of  Love they've shown us.

The long growing dissatisfaction we bear, we hide;

Out of love nonetheless.

Time awasted, our youthful dreams barely intact but it's alright.

We won't swim against the tide, ride what's not to be ridden,

write what's not to be written,

painting our minds onto the walls of alienation,

painting our own blood, brains & guts onto the canvas of life.

Of my generation there's only room for conformers and martyrs.

Surrendering to the world's greed for uniform progress, growth in wealth, as preached by the democrats.

For the people, by the people.

Individuality wiped from the face of history, we are smeared into a single hue of obedience. They tame our spirits & mold our ambitions. Sweet conformity, the bane of our existence. All paths long trodden, no longer are there 'The Road Not Taken.'s

Sleep is elusive, contentment illusory, happiness a myth.

As I lie in bed, bleeding words, dreams, soul, I realize we're but the living dead.

If I am to howl, I'll do it properly. I'll tear my throat out, I'll try harder, louder.

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Note: Found this scribbled on scrap paper, tucked into the pages of  Jack Kerouc Allen Ginsberg: The Letters (Edited by Bill Morgan and David Stanford), which after abandoning it for almost a year, I'm re-reading. Hysterical is what I am. Written last year immediately after a couple of phone calls to my Da Vinci & Cassady. Ha ha ha. 

First year bitterness, ingratitude, willfulness, silliness, what have you. I'm telling you, studying overseas brings about a sea of changes that crash into you in multitudes, as the waves does upon a shore. Ach, I liken everything to the sea, waves & shores. Idiotic. Just one of the images that pervades me. Anyway, yes, studying overseas is pretty much being chucked into an alien land with some cash & have you integrate yourself a.s.a.p. because you have quizzes, tests, assignments & shizz to score literally just days after. What we do is we survive first year and then, we start living. It's different. The Sun shines differently, the stars are different, the air, even the song of the birds, the crows, insects, the culture, food, people everything is foreign.


And then you go home for holidays & it all feels like a dream. But after a year & a half, you feel yourself balancing out. It doesn't feel like a painful fracture anymore. Now that I'm home again, I can reflect on all of this peacefully. This year so far has been a blessing. I feel that I owe it all to those TOF tickets.