Taxi Driver

Ride # 1

The eyes glowing so like a bulb, I feel weak and the body a little numb. I say this at the brink of my heart pounding out of my fucking mouth. I make sense of myself, being in place of others makes more sense than a little while guilt and pride strikes you all along.

I now walk in the brazen, cold wind, what if I wasn’t there too often.That would be right, but was enough to drive the pleasure out of it for while. It was a way out of the blank

I sat there with 3 more- Amit, Shubham and Rohit – the partners in drive joined by out Treasurer Mr. Guard, passing up the grass. I waited there on the edge of chair for the trip to start the rip. I lit it on a point of a light. The trip started with me in the driving seat. The taxi is a test of to hold on the ecstasy of trip while it move a full circle, then you can pass up the urgency of lungs to breath. You puff on and on wanting more than before, pulling up the hunches. The smoke passes up though the nerves liberating the tied soul .In a moment a myriad of curiosity passed before my eyes.

The rush of blood to my head shoots a bit.

That’s what I was craving for long to loosen my buttons. That was awesome. We had this going for a rough 30minutes and then took a break. Shubham laughed his wits out even out seemingly straight stuff. We all let it go a bit more .Someone pulled the last one and let it drop.

Lights out!

The reasons

I am on the edge of my bed, its 3 am in the morning I woke up halfway through with my sleep I can’t sleep. The reason I don’t dare to know. I am overcome with intensity of hurt crushing me narrowly in silence of the night. After all it’s a collective thought / feeling. There are only few people around that makes it a point to feel lonely about something’s and brood about it later on, as I did for myself. It’s a vicious circle, that old feeling of guilt kicking in and walking alone.
Finally I can figure out the things that happened to me in time around, it’s all the part of providence and life, doing all bits to teach lessons.
Awake when half the world is asleep, no one stands beside me .I am just through with a meaningless drive – after an illicit walkout into a person, equally harmless in routine. Control of nerves was what I learned and how to put too much of my face in there, jokes apart. Sex is sex, after all.
Closely chasing onto absurdity of details of events, people some of the truth began to tumble out, emanating righteously. I saw through lies and phoniness of my friends. The most annoying details I saw in this all was snobbery people resort to in time of face off with themselves as if they can’t take what they stand for.
There are no claims like “I am your best friends” and so on or someone coming over to me with all his/her heart poured out to me about anything at all. I just fear myself dead in the wake of the day when I think about the friends I chose to be my friends. I wish I can come back and remove some from my life. Thank god life offers you with no second chances.
The usual reference to the friendship so far has been a couple of names, because I never felt such paucity of a real person called friend even before followed by all what I am.
I look at this in another way the sooner the better, situations reveal man to him. So have I taken a leap in this quest it’s yet to be seen?
I feel handicapped when it comes to judging people they have their own pretensions disguised as particular attitude towards specific things. Just like a person who knows she doesn’t love you and hangs on to you pretending to do the same.
It’s face of death, like strangling someone to death on a comfy bed. Why everyone is so busy pretending to be what he she is not and in turn losing what one stands for.
It’s their own free will to chose and they chose to be losers. I can’t help it.
Loss of something brings something back to you, in the turn of events.

Measured feelings

After a cool breezy 4-year haul of my life that I enormously loathed, pricking out a couple of high points is a fairly easy task easier than putting together a Sudoku .Throughout the entire period of four year constraint I failed to embrace a change ,too dreadful to be true of sorts.
Lord saved me some grace.
In the meantime I hardly understood the pretensions they (people, most of them) so gladly displayed .As if a page torn out of a hardy boys’ thriller, something missing in between the lines for their own good. I despised the casual vanity and conceited hanging of some people. The dialogues I shared were lost in a heady mix of too casual utterances some even turned blatant of their egos. Hurting both sideways like someone got hold of my balls. I never seemed to care about despair it all lead me too. It went on all along.
So little too late.
After a long period (which I don’t remember) I met an old friend, who was around home for a short run of vacation. There was an air unease on both the sides, with each of trying to come up with some exact response to the ongoing rambling. He was heavily absorbed in the facts of his own being and couldn’t care less. We really had a great time when we were in school, all that is now toasted for some obscure wilderness in time that went by.
At most of the time my conversation with friends were forced with all the naïve experiences and feigning attributes to the moment in which we shared our words. It was more of my impulse to share what I got and about what I feel. I constantly feel the absence of such a person around me.
Overrunning the facts left me a bit of quandary about the way I pitched things for myself. Slowly and surely I entered into a trance. So much, to my fragile heart .It seemed like ages since I was out there. Over and over again I kept on stumbling on to stones even more weathered. Finally I landed into a zero space that was shut off from rest of the previous hurts and new opportunity, which really made me enjoy a string of heartbreaks. Meanwhile there was a shift in power, a steep shoot in terrorism, victimization, unemployment and the once raging bull finally eating the grass .I sat still in the times of even heavier turmoil. I always felt strongly critical of the policies the government, because of the wide open non-uniformity. ”It’s not going to hurt me” said I to myself. Better late than never.
It was really disheartening to see some of my friends struggling to get a decent start at work. After all these 20 odd years education only to train the minds that in future will not be able to decide for their own good .The immensely talented pools of youth trained by some unskilled obsequies class. Obvious mix of results follows – unprepared minds, going haywire faced with decision making. The ills of the system leaves a deadly trail on the tracts if the young fellows .What a shame.
Overpowering, now I am driving out of home with precisely nowhere to go, atop a hill I sat after cruising some miles. The dense mist of air is supremely thick and cold here. I step back; I am alone here surrounded by a city. I strung out the gloomy thoughts and feel a placid mist of nothingness taking over me.
Turning a cynic.
Over past a month I am working towards a dream that I see coming closer to me still unformed in my eyes growing stronger than ever. My hunger for creative expression going haywire all at the same time. it takes hours to figure out what exactly to write about and shaping my writing pieces grows into a huge task again. Reading is less frequent nowadays with only a couple of novels at the desk.

Love affairs, sleepless nights and a year later

"An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by fullness, not by reception."

Harold Loukes

Harold and wordsworth can wait, what about my definitions.
Love doesn’t seem to stay with me in any form and in any manifestation. Not long ago I wished I could love over and over again not bothering to look through anymore. Infectious, I may call it for obvious reasons once you are involved it’s tough to do without it or at least some one is at loss (partially).
Like you can never do without a Sunday morning sunshine, filtering through the narrow pass in that window of your, taking over the senses just when you wake up fresh out of your night-mere. You look around find yourself clinging to your sheet like an old rug never gave up; still in those pajamas you put on TV and make yourself a cuppa with your head humming like a drum off the last night’s hangover. And you, of course, forget the excruciating altercation you had over the bar with yourself. You can listen to yourself, still, without your phone numb and suddenly out of nothing you get back on your feet to grab your phone to dial a number. That is half formed in your memory but somehow you press harder on the keys and pressing the call button.
By then the cord of his rambling existence began to unravel for this moment in time when he himself had too much to care about. He believed he will never want to see her again so much as he knew. There were no false dreams, no love, no efforts to reclaim what he seemingly lost, since the last time they saw each other. Only for the time he felt he was too naïve to have looked at her the way he did, he realized he was being awfully exhausted in his share of free sunshine and he shrugged off from sharing it with anyone, just no one no more.
The cacophonous electronic beep inside of his ears one after another and punctured his patience even more. The beep now went on hold and….

“Yeah”
“I thought I wish you a happy birthday”
“Well thank you, why did you bothered”
“How are you doing?”
“I am great and you”
“I am great and it’s a great morning too”
“Where are you?”
“I am around”
“Hammmm”
“Finally I did heard what I was missing and you know what it never made any difference but the thing is that I didn’t said a single word to make it up, maybe I could have, but I didn’t see it happening to us and it made things just a bit like jungle and At the end of the day it had to happen. Why did you do this to me?”
“I hated liars, I told you”
“As if you entered an agreement yeah but that was meant for you can’t you see now?”
“Whatever I am not in for this today”
“Today is not you day”
“I killed it! And I am out here”
“Good for you! I know, you so much wanted it”
Say something (longer pause)
“I am not able to get rid of you”
“You will”
“Have you”
“Next question”
“I just did, I’ll hang up”

Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…… went the line

“I’ve lost it”

No one tells you how far you can go chasing that one big dream that never materialized (debatable).
Risking all what you have got to trade for them becomes an obvious alternative, rather cruelly crushing of reasons but that’s how it goes.
I go back to my bed to romance with my Engineering articles and my core loneliness with vestiges of my hopes intertwined with cynicism.
Its Nov. 2008 life has come full circle since then. I wonder why it (my life) screeched to an amusing halt for some time. Maybe because it just never sleep.
And move over oldies? He was right, when he painfully sung..

“”No one knows what it’s like to be a bad man
To be sad man behind blue eyes”

I’ve lost! The good part is I’ve lost her!! The bad part how did I lost her?
Maybe I still don’t have the answer.

CALL OF THE METAL : I

One day on the packed sidewalks and lanes of the community centre in Vasant Vihar , i walked in silence and roar at the same time though i was with a friend i unconciously shifted to a dull and gloom all in myself .I could hear the people laugh and walk past me in a brazen kind of manner that was very full of feigning reasones and failing solitude.I was alone as a matter of fact i for no reasone had the excuse for being so cynical.Hanging out late nights have been a old hunt for me without much of sense .Somehow it reminds me of my being and it reminds me of what exactly the picture is like when one confronts the darkness.
I had been facinated by mere thought of shopping and i can go any length just to grab a place in the market full of shoppers buying happiness out of cash or credit whatever.I can always get up in the middle of night an go shopping.This time was very different i was not out on purpose, with myself stuffed with lot of apprehensions for the night ahead.I steeped out of my car with my dear friend and started to walk on the main street leading to the rear of the place that recieves the majority of the revellers,sat there on a fountain clutching on to a side-stone with a hand already busy with an egg-roll munching and i really wanted to go out in the middle loud and hard to sing a song by Metallica called "turn the page" but soon i realised it was a dream.
Later we stepped into a joint harshly done with loud interiors with an extravagance of a blacksmith workshop and they proudly call it Metal as if in desperate need of recognition.playing hard rock and sub generes satiate them dry.
I strolled ahead on a street leading to the main one and i see some more cafe's and bistro's famous for there ""Good entry regimes"" i hate them all for every reason possible.I really have a fond memory of this nature in south Delhi itself.
Loving the music i grew up have few takers and very few can stand it literally.for some reasons Metal soothes me and reminds me of presence of something strong that connects me back to everything. So lost i can only hope for a better place and more of such places and joints that really can make someones day.

TILL THE LAST DROP

Till the last drop of paint draws
The brushes won’t cross the line
Of hope and despair
The curvy innocence draws red
Still fresh, your smile dwells souls

A full stop for rest over
You are creek to jump into
The point on a circle called life
Bright strokes lit you alive
Setting forth a random array

No one tell what till you see the other side
Loose flakes fall from the sky
Struggling to form a life
Grey eyes covering the haze
Battered hands go up in sky
Folded in sigh

Hope against hope is yet to come
A season of cold is in full swing
Fallen leaves tranquilizes the streets
Crushed under the feet
Forays into a life of itself
Peachy with spots all over

Evolved is new time of the life
The perception never fades
Till the last drop of blood draws.

34 HOURS AT CHARBAGH

My good friend thought I was plainly joking when I reported to him about my stay at the Eleanor railway station of charbagh and he unwarrantedly offered a stay at his family house which is just a stone throw away from the passage that is less visited ,so nice of him, I would rather stay with myself alone why? Well that makes the experience complete without oneself needing any ease to chill and also making a company to our rich heritage of railways at least.
I checked into this enormously populous station with all the touchy feely crowd leaving no stone unturned in making one making a bad guess, with my good friend Rohit and so began our struggle through the dilapidated locales of the Ameenabad and nearby searching for a neat and clean hole in the wall, after several throws over we seemed to finally have hit the nail but only to be dispelled by the ever non-friendly locales and bad mouth hooligans walking the station and the suffocating locations. such a turn off! Finally I landed into a spacious and strikingly clean retiring rooms cum dormitory where my first impression was that of a grand Victorian lounges achingly poignant, to be seen in a classy movies or living out of some narrative. The Layout was simple with beds all lined up along the length of that space with desperately crisp sheets and pillows. there is too much of rush just outside of this room window making it look like an exodus.
The crony attendant was a lady with a rough neck and an interesting voice hoarse enough to keep off the unwanted travelers trying to barge in without a permit. She shoed away a lot of enquirers with a tone of a vamp in old hindi movies. Sure she was friendly. People here are from different groups and age mostly 40+ .

Travel is a basic realm of life which empowers our senses with real experiences desire to transform from one state of being to a higher degree of awareness, in all travel leads you to discover, share and most of all devise. The place is just a stop to connect further journey with the previous one. When stops become the focal points in journey they leave an interlude for a good part of the memory to preserve from all the other parts. Sashaying through the stops and halts makes all the difference in a well conducted travel experience.

My journey obviously had several stops since I boarded the train back to hostel but the moment where I lie right now is well poised to pluck a part that will be remembered by me for its simple being and an earnest two days, for I wanted to be here not because I had to but because I want to. I almost feel like a free bird jumping here and there without a single thread of social connections, too much absorbed in my own flight of thoughts and convictions, the loosely built dreams and broken efforts and more efforts coupled with my wows to see my dreams come through.

For the last seven days life has moved an inch closer to my sight my own reality exposing my naked central ideas to whom still cling to and my apathy of being what I mean to be, faring unprejudiced in this unpredictable life. All this time gave me an immense pleasure to walk free no strings attached.

THE OLD BOOK BAZAAR: WHERE JANE EYRE,KARL MARX AND ARUNDHATI LIVES

‘‘A book lover can travel the boundaries world over without moving an inch"

Picture this: books occupying almost every inch of the space available along the pedestrian on a stretch of more than 2 Kms on a Sunday afternoon simply makes for a visit from a booklover worth his salt. This is only one of its kind you can imagine or experience no matter how well you are travelled. The bizarre setting of the shops transcends you to a similar ecstasy that of a Kasbah in elegant landscapes of Morocco. The vendors are desperately trying to hand you almost whatever you ask for be it a preparatory rhyme or a book for the human anatomy, with a feigned perfection of that of a master librarian. Ask for a Jane Eyre and he will promptly hands you the hardcover classic from a 1960 publication and that too for just 100 bucks at maximum so that you just bite your tongue in sweet dismay of the unbelievable amount you just paid for a masterpiece. This is nowhere but the Old book Bazaar, daryaganj in picture for real long time now and though the times have battered the streets local administration plays mooted on the apathy of this landmark.
For a first time visitor this is a different place altogether, with a tonnes of stacks of books scattered onto the ground in makeshift columns as they practically begged us to be bought and land out of the misery. Bookstalls too busy churning out the books at any rate is equipped with experienced people of significant amount of titles and the reading trends. Just a curious eye and you can spot numbers of volumes ever printed and that again on an unbelievably small price.
The Sunday mornings here are bustling with activities of shoppers and bookies pitching in from different parts of the world digging for a title or two .Generic crowds here is common to spot going for anything that’s classy and old. I spotted some of the sepia tinted hard bound novels, rare works of all timers like Thackeray, Shakespeare, Milton, and Dickens lay on the sidewalk in a silence as if they were shouting for attention that was already theirs. I bought John Keats- the complete collection of the poems, Karl Marx, Thackeray, and it was a sense of possession of a great value. And adding to that it set free the volumes off the century old dust and dampness of a hush corner. The cover, pages and the hard bindings makes them for the breathless beauty they are only to be stocked in the library of great care an importance.
I, first, had been there at the age 15 for my textbooks with a cousin who always bombarded my imagination with idea of modest pricing and most of all the great titles. I said “OK so when I get to set up my own library I’’ put the name s of this place in my frames”. At that time I only walked these streets fir my texts or some random stuffs that are abundantly available on the streets there (mind you there is much more to explore there).
Some old faces whom I practically have memorized still sells the same thing and once I get to interview a guy, a newcomer to the scene, only of 15 named Ali casually asking him originally used classics and he was suddenly got more interested cutting me short “i don’t have these titles right now but if you confirm me the details the next time you visit here I’ll surely help with that” said he. But that clearly was for business adding to the details prices will be altered for the exclusive titles. And I am looking forward to hand him my list the next time I visit the place.
To buy or just to unwind at my own ease I come here whenever I can it sets me free from this society that is increasingly being intolerably hypocritical and let me be me, then I go back and being a part of the circle having no ends.

A BULLET IN THE VIEL

The romantics of the age when Ameer Khusro mesmerized the times with the eloquent honey tipped Verses transporting the audience to a new experience, the zero-journey to one’s personal side. When social boundaries melted to give way to a society which was not priggish in its essence. That was the era of greener pastures for the post modern fanatics and there are several lessons to be learnt from the way social threads were fabricated to pave way for harmony.
We have arrived in the age of neo-science and pre defined boundaries, amidst the chaos that is incorrigible, where life look for alternatives be it a humane bonding, the most trivial of all or everything else that is obvious. We love ourselves to the extent forcing us to view through a glass biased to reflect a brighter picture turning our eyes grey to the co-existence of rest of others. And then we do things which cut the flesh deeper than the knife.
Living in a free republic my right is to speak up, the equal opportunities or fairplay.Being taken for granted or having been forced to step back from what we deserve is the most horrendous crime a state can possibly commit. This is in urgent need to be wiped off the existence if we as society are to survive the going onslaught biased on religion. One may ask what is it to be the way we are. “It’s not much different than it used to be when we were brothers “I may quip in.
The crumbs of today, when global sensibilities are at a debate, yet mooted, are only signs of our insecurity and the how conceited we have become. Time check now!! We ain’t here for too long friends!!We can just see it through or shrug that’s everything behind us.
At the pace life expects us to catch on we surely have option than to turn non-feeling android operated by a programmed features like a television controlled by a remote ,like a man bent on his desires. We can switch off the television but we cannot stop us to get hooked on. A gesture of a smile when a stanger spots another one in the eye is now rare. A little effort will let us know what it is to be like what we are! And we can get answers that are but obvious.

A sunday afternoon and a cutting chai..

Breezing though my morning share of newspapers,a news declaring the coming of age of artwork what might someday could have reffered to have been kitcsh and grotesque now is revelling in the glory of modern culture that is shelter to the most deserving artforms these days.

i picked my cuppa sipped it half empty and steered clear of the page and i encounters a ruthless murder of journalism in name of commercial paper.The author of the article failed to appreciate even the smallest of the individual sensibilities while declaring loudly"the gang has arrived,you get ready to be massacred".Plainly i stand against cheapest of the journalism standards that are being aired 24*7 without knowing much the craving for real spiritual versions.

My cup was near its end and i just turned over to a newspiece saying "goodbye,wallstreet".Begging for a satire i found myself liking, i frowned at the hint of editing.

I am now about to end this romantic read and bid goodbye to some "wannabes good for nothing crappy papers".In the end it was a more balanced way of spending an afternoon.

Birthday again..

I decided to pick following quotes for this day ,they simply speak my mind...

       .

• Live as long as you may. The first twenty years are the longest half of  yourlife.      
• Sometimes your joy is thesource of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Now there that goes another year in aflash with memories sealed in my conscience.

its 2345 hrs. its me only around here who knows its my birthday and well the rest are fast asleep .

now the clock strikes 0000 hrs. and that will be it .

I have some plans in the backdoor for tommorow day out  and that goes like 

rushing for a retail therepy with friends and checking into a lounge at evening somewhere in Malviya Nagar or in vicinity .finally hitting at a nightspot to catch up on some live music and that will be it!

In the last 21 years of my life i dont remember as having celebrated my birthday with anyone.

Once i do remember i was in hospital bed on the very night of the day and that was the most horrific day i spent.jokes apart  i have serious business to run up at home.

My mood for the day is  upbeat -just waiting to go for all day and let my self roll for sometime .

last time i remember as  havin"good time" was with Rachit and Anurag At a Cafe (i remember that place for its  distinct ambience and the crowd it attracted).wish to go there more now. 

Winding back/ 22 sept

Its 6 am,Its been a crazy time for the last two days since i have been glued to my desk

preparing posts and deciphering blogging.Its the new fad thta i am stuck to for now on.

Thought of it to be a simple, plain affair but it's something you can't fathom at one go.

All you need a liitle patience baby!

So, here i am now i had hard luck retrieving data from my computer as i fell slightly back on my memory of password and i was just on the verge of losing all !!!!! my data, of course.

But somehow i managed to get something back and i had to lose somethings i did'nt remember.

Talking of blogging i am really in a fix how to use the empty spaces left by addtion of pics and the hyperlinks are not at all visible in my blog, which links directly to a a particular post about something and the layout i wanted is not there.

Well i can clip from here and there and the blog will be ready for the kill in some days till then you'll be informed about the details.

i wont be home...

the serial blasts have ripped the country into pieces

the era gone by shown us how to live through these attacks while still facing them there is not much we can do about it knowing these things are borne out of  the extremism as a way of life, and their no respect for human life.

In an another move to destabilize the whole country we are finding hard to sustain the wounds that are perpetrated daily in the face of these humiliating defeat.

The security is at loss and the hands are digging deeper into the mainstream society while our intelligence and the home security is following the same crude follow-ups to tackle all these that is going by.The question is what are these enormously large in scope- group called police and there subs doing to contain them.

The country had a face-off with a non-confidence motion recently and parliament has given the verdict in favour of the congress but to my dismay, the politburo have not yet come up with a fresh policy to contain such  attacks there is no vigour that a government should have in place,to dismantle the machinery  operating under these terrorists bodies as a whole.

looking back at recent past the other congress ruled government under the enormous influence of Mrs.Indira Gandhi  crippled the anti national sects that raised an alarm pitching there demands for a separate state and jeopardizing the national capital and during this testing times she used her force to put off them and to completely derailing the potential up rise.there was a persona about that lady lacking in the leaders in the government at centre.

such a sublime policy  can work wonder for the government and 

Its a huge international sentiment to backpack the views against terrorism everyone trying to get under the skin of the cause, no one is looking for the cure the possible cure maybe exhaustively researched citizen system like the one operating in the USA under which the citizens are granted a permanent social security no. chances of faking it are minimum reason being the central surveillance agency monitoring them which is directly answerable to the feds.this also checks the suspicious citizens intermingling in these hate crimes.

the bigger problem is the theory on which borders are built .Territories spanning from the east to the west are all in the fix,someone or the other staking claims for their piece of land and charging in infiltration. We can surely look off these seemingly unimportant issues but they are the one that has done greatest harm to us in recent past  right since the Kargil took place  and even before them there was a gradual push across the border that led these unauthorised bunches to shoot through the border making situations worse between the countries  part of this.

          

To be a Slave of Intensity

Friend, hope for the guest while you are alive.

Jump into experience while you are alive!

Think...and think...while you are alive.

What you call 'salvation' belongs to the time before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,

do you think

ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic

Just because the body is rotten -

that is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now,

you will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,

Believe in the Great Sound!

Another day in life

And the emptiness don't leave me alone
god i shoved myself with this disgruntled beliefs and the ever keeping introspection..............constant being only the loneliness that
followed me in the day and dark alike .

but there is no time for these thoughts to strike my imagination cuz' now i no longer want be the same i used to be .
i crawled and groped in dark beneath my self-imposed humiliations i was made to think like i had no conscience but that for what i know i not true.

The day , this moment is full of my own fears and apprehension all channeled for my exams that are going underway .Strength of material the name only
instills the bone chill in me.all is going to be the day that tomorrow gonna be...
Now ... this v-day has been a cold turkey in ma basket as usual , i need not specify

the reasons being all same .
The truth is i don't even want to feel fuckin' special on this damn day its just a fad to be overjoyed or some special clandestine dating sprees.
Wanted to talk her ,it sprang to me just like everything else does but i decide or my own ego decided against it the thought come and go automatically
you yourself don't have to react to anything wen it comes to dwelling into your conscience.So for now i cant talk to anyone just need to clear up the mess that
have assumed the shape of some load over me or i have made the same out of a seemingly okay situation .be it.
I need a clear cutting break to run away and think whats going on .
Oh! well i need my own time for this all and decide what to end up and what to take up cuz' everything is rising over my head at an alarming rate ,so before that
goes away way too far i got to get hold onto it. ostensibly , to push me up a further limit . i have plans take up earning money only from now own cuz' i need to do it.

the big proposition is not loneliness but the great loss of my love for everything else.

There is no more of the same old energy maybe i am sucked inside out.

this somehow is gonna form my cycle of woes.