കണ്ടുമുട്ടാൻ ഇരിക്കുന്ന തീവണ്ടികൾ | The Trains Yet to meet.

അവൻ ഇരുട്ടിൽ തനിച്ചായിരുന്നു.

അവളും.

അവർ രണ്ടുപേരും പരസ്പരം ചിന്തിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു.

അവൾ അവനുവേണ്ടി സ്വയം ഒരുങ്ങുകയായിരുന്നു.

അവൻ അവൾക്കായി ഒരുങ്ങുകയായിരുന്നു.

ഇരുവരും ഒരേ ട്രെയിനിനായി കാത്തിരിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു.

യാത്ര ആരംഭിച്ചു, പക്ഷേ അവർ ഒരേ ട്രെയിനിലല്ല.

അവൾ സ്ലീപ്പറിൽ ഉറങ്ങുകയാണ്.

അവൻ മൂന്നാം എസിയിലാണ് ഉറങ്ങുന്നത്.

ട്രെയിനിനുള്ളിൽ അവർ നിരവധി ആളുകളെ കണ്ടുമുട്ടി.

ചിലർക്ക് അവളോട് സാമ്യം തോന്നി.

ചിലർ അവനെ അവളോട് സാമ്യപ്പെടുത്തി.

എന്നാൽ അവർ തമ്മിൽ കണ്ടുമുട്ടാൻ തീവണ്ടി നിൽക്കില്ല.

കാരണം അവർ പരസ്പരം അറിയുന്നില്ല.

he was alone in the dark.

she too.

they were both thinking of each other.

she was making herself ready for him.

he was making himself ready for her.

they were both waiting for the same Train.

The journey has started, but they are not on the same train.

She is sleeping in sleeper.

He is sleeping in 3rd AC.

Inside the train they met so many people.

Some resembled her to him.

Some resembled him to her.

but the train will not stop for them to meet eachother.

because they don't know each other.

what time is it? Time to go son.

There is nothing more written. There comes a time in a writer's life when there is nothing more to write. I ask the question myself, why did I start writing in the first place. I begin to think about why I write. You know our thoughts are our complications. And our difficulties make us who we are. I was a nobody until I met people. People gave me reasons to live. And the people who gave me reasons left. It was that I left them forever.

Them seems to be too long. Why did you fail? Why are you blaming yourself? Why are you like this? While there ever be a second chance in life. You failed even to make an effort. Who will be with you? What am I even doing here? 

Why are you not jumping? You know people are waiting for you on the other side. I know I have to go but let me live a little bit more. Because I am not done with myself. I feel sad for myself. I feel sad because, on the inside, I'm sorry. Maybe my mental health needs to be assessed.

But why are you living with people? Why do you want to love them? You can't express yourself. You cannot be vulnerable. You are not even genuine. You are fake. What do you fake yourself? You know exactly what you are. This is what you have been all your life. Do you need help with something? I can't help you because you put a barrier to yourself that nobody could break. Even you cheated yourself? Why are you like this? Let me see if I can help you with your problem.

First of all, you don't have any issues. All your problems are your stories. This is how you have been surviving all your life. But why we're you surviving all your life. Why didn't you live? You have regrets, son. Your regrets are going to be with you till your grave. I pray that you take them with you in the after life. I mean, your existence itself is a question if you are in doubt. Can you get a life now, after all, you've been through?

I have no answer for you, son. But I do know one thing there will be a day when you will stop thinking of all these. I pray it comes soon because you have had enough. Life can be challenging, but it doesn't do justice to everyone.

We for Vigilante

Poets are liars,

Poet is a man.

The writer is a liar,

The writer is a man.

Sitting on the stairs

Glancing on the distant stars

Thinking about sound vigils

Asking myself for counsels

The counsels mulled for some money,

Which I didn't give.

The vigils evoked for a tally,

Which I didn't care.

The stars shined for an eternity,

Which I didn't notice.

And the stairway looked folly,

Novice as a shoe.

The Dream Loop

The one thing i realized from life is that it is full of opportunities.No matter what age you're in you always strive to become something in life.A child dreams to be like an adult.An adult dreams to be a child.There is always a to and fro motion between these two.But one thing is for sure,they always dream of the other. 

I think it is what keeps a dreamer be a dreamer.This overexposed idea of dreaming constantly fluctuate their decision making.Dreaming can bring us temporary high and calm our sense of mind.Our unfulfilled dreams and unorthodox ambitions.

We have to break this giant barrier and arise from what is underneath.If we keep ourselves stuck in this ever rotating loop make sure there is a kill switch in our hands.Because you should be the one always in control of what, where and why you dream.I hope your dreams come true.

IT

They were unsure of it
Too much pressure it caused
All prayers went to church and temple
But it was free at last

Unsure of the drama
It grew up fast and healthy
No issues no threat
Though it knew the sound mutinies

Confused and broken it was
Teenage by some but pain-age said it
It's heart left first then followed the soul
Though it was them who made it

No more say anymore today
Everyday will pass away
Still wait for that day
When they come to take him away.

HUMANOIDS

I comb my hair 

because they say so,

I walk on two legs

because they taught me,

I dream with my eyes closed

'cause i don't want them inside me.

And so i was living.

I lost my hair 
because they didn't mention,
I walk cripple
because they took one
I asked their name
'cause i had one.

And they left with a chanting.


"ARTIFICIAL ARE PERFECT"!
"ARTIFICIAL ARE PERFECT "!
"ARTIFICIAL ARE PERFECT"!

161613

Give me something to write about.I am starting to be low on  ideas.What happen to the creator inside me?Beginning to push myself to the limits of creating something out of nothing.My hands,my eyes,my body,every organ inside me craving itself to fund me something that,i could speak out.May be the mind just want something else.Is it love?Is it sex?Is it food?Is it people?What do you want from me?I just keep on writing and writing and writing until i reached a point where there is no more to write on anything that provokes me.Creativity is a very damn hard thing to come out.You need some kind of an inspiration or space to give out what is best inside you.

Self assessment ?what does your mind crave for now?the things that you can't speak is been written.The things that can't be written is spoken of.Where is this all leading to?Why do we write ?Is it to improve language?Is it to impress others?Or is it just a hollow-hollow.I walked alone to a cliff that no man has ever dared to climb.But when i looked around i saw other cliff's they were not alone i saw a shadow,shadow of a person.Suddenly i reached out into my pocket and grabbed my binoculars.I was not surprised to see me in those cliff's.I realized my mind was playing games with me.It tested my reality and consciousness.Reached out for a gun from my other pocket and shot myself in the head.I was not dead just a sigh of smokes here and there.

I set out to find someone living near by.It was the grand canyons.Literally no people habitat area.I walked alone through those high cliffs and low plateaus.I started to dig a hole under where i was standing.There were no tools to be found so I used my hands instead.The digging got the best parts of my hands.The red matter came out quickly from the fingers.I was scared that i would die from bleeding.But i kept on digging.There was no specific idea on why i was digging so i decided to come out of the hole and look at it.It was 6 feet long and 3 feet wide.I knew that it was a grave hole.


So without much further questions i came to the conclusion that everybody in the world has left and i am the only one remaining.I was digging the hole to myself because if i die in the open the vultures and scavengers would feed on me.I cannot die like that 'cause in the afterlife i have to have my organs in position.And i became unconscious and fell in the grave hole.The earths crust started to change and an earthquake occurred.The walls of the grave slide and i was covered with dirt.Mother earth took care of my karma.She started a wild fire for holy smokes and started the rains for holy water.The cracking of the valley pulled out a tomb stone above my grave.It had a number written as 16 16 13(ppm).