Just once

The world looks beautiful in hallucinations.

The wall comes alive with molten monsters from my technicolor nightmares. The generally don't do much. Because they don't get the chance. Before they can budge, the world explodes in a cacophony of sounds that peel off layers of my flesh in slow, sustained torture.

I was 23 last year. As lost as my mustard corduroys and black checked cotton shirt. All I wanted to do was live the fast life. She hated my dressing sense and loved my money. She also loved all my friends, but that is not relevant here.

Sounds like a B-grade movie doesn't it? Believe me it sank faster than any movie at the box office. If my doing an item number would have saved the movie, I'd have gladly done it. But life does not allow re-runs.

I sniffed my first Cocaine in the green room of a theatre studio. I was nervous as hell, going out on the stage for the first time. Innocuous white powder. Don't get me wrong. I knew perfectly that drug abuse could kill me. I had no intention of becoming an addict. I was merely nervous. Somebody suggested the euphoria will wipe out all signs of nervousness. Besides, I had always been curious.

I was so scared of needles that I never injected anything into me. Not LSD. Not Ecstasy. Tablets or vials were too easily available. I lost her among all this. Not that I felt the loss. All I could feel was the peace that enveloped my world. No sounds. No smells. No lights.

Yesterday, I turned 24. They found me lying in a storm water drain. Now, I am lying in a sterile, white, hospital bed staring at the intravenous drip feeding my body. My body. I do not have any right to this body anymore. So it refuses to listen to me and erupts with pain of its own whim and fancy. I cannot bear to see the looks of dejection and hopelessness on the face of my parents. I cannot stand the sunlight streaming through the windows.

True. The world looks more beautiful in hallucinations.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, any place or anything is purely coincidental and not intended.

Ambiguous clarity

White spaces stare at me
Dare me to write
Write some semblance
Of sanity

When words cease
To ease
The crease
in the fabric of silence

Sleep comes in hiccups
Shamefully sucking up
To the big bully time
That stagnant, stinking time

Anger? Disgust? Loneliness?
Echoes bouncing in emptiness
Without stop, without fail
Empty, prosaic wail

Don't analyze, don't try
to understand
Just be me, mute
banned

Singing...
Sohorer ushnotomo dine
peech gola roddure
bristhir bishash
Tomay dilaam
In a loop of iTunes

Looped in my life
into every knot
Butter fighting a knife
melting taut

Stop. Now..
I will this non
Sense drawn upon
Me? Wow!

Sunsets

Bronze David Replica in Piazzale de Michelangelo, Florence, Italy, 13 October, 2007.

Charcoal dreams

So I splurged! So sue me!

I splurged on -

1. A 30 sheet A4 size sketchbook of 180 g/m^2 paper.
   
2. A packet of willow charcoal - medium 5-6 mm.
   
3. A 48 shade pack of oil pastels.
   
4. A Moleskine plain notebook.

This resulted in some well-deserved euphoria and combined with the resurgent artistic personality of my schizophrenic self to produce the following:

Pssst! I cheated a lil bit ... it's not completely charcoal. I drew it in pencil first. Since I don't have a scanner handy at home, I took a picture of it. The chic amber lighting is not Photoshop - it's my table lamp!

Okay.. so now... who wants to model for my next one?