That big shiny silver thing with the glowing keys despises the fact that it’s sitring in my nightstand the sad part isn’t the fact that the little bastard hates competition its the fact that i miss it. 

Even when I type my thoughts out using a digital keyboard on a glass screen made by the same company it just doesn’t feel right. Im too used to the satisfaction I get when those noisy little pieces of plastic travel in and out of usable depth under the weight of my fingers.

A marvel of human thought and the epitomy of capitalist sensibilities, i called myself pro Left, why does this feel so good then? 

1200 dollars and some change, consumption as mack said is in my veins, Its all I know, it’s the root to the tree, as I branch out I lean but my feet are held closed into this floor which just wont give. 

The bastard stares at me as I write away, these motherless creatures look me in the eyes as I grit my teeth. 

Let me be im a leftist you see? 

You wanted to be a radicle, you couldn’t even do that right. 

I love the left, I was born right. 

I love the ideo of sharing, but not my own material possessions. I am just another guy. There’s a billion like me. 


Break me from this room.

The reddest of roses sometimes aren’t enogh for love to blossom. The cold pit in her eyes felt burlier than a warm summer morning hitting you with a goodbye note in the middle of Autumn. 

With blood all over I feel All right, she kept on running away from the source to the periphery. Leaving bloodied footsteps behind, all thuds and mindless epiphanies.

Whats the point of sudden realisations when this table between us is the only thing that guarantees not even a small amount of sin. 

Its all okay though, you know in another world we’d win. 

Get me.


See what I mean?


I have tried my hand at being the best person I could have ever been, I have tried my very best to try and become a person so separate from anything that could even remotely make me slip, to ruin anything even remotely related to this one little slice of perfection that I stole from the universe’s tight grip.

I have given it all for the sake of being a good man, I have given everything a guy can give for the sake of lying to myself about the little things. No, what they meant today was something much deeper than their cruel words. Even when what they meant today was really as shallow as a shower.

Every single time that shower rains down the pangs of anger on my naked skin, It shatters to the point where my whole life, all I am, all I will ever be is a little puddle on the ground struggling to maintain it’s shape as the rain keeps pouring in, trying it’s best to make me join the large aqueous body of universal regret and anger, make me conform back into where I came from. I pick myself up from that puddle everyday, I make sure I struggle as much as I possibly can everyday.

The universe fucking loves me, everything that I have ever wanted, I have gotten and as they say all great things in life come at a price, I can quite easily give them a one fingered salute to prove them wrong, the only price I ever paid was as important as that one chapter in my fourth grade English textbook about tigers and how pretty they are.

I have loved people and used things, I have met a bunch of paupers and a few kings, after every handshake with every alpha male, after every flirtatious glance with every prom queen of the landscape, with every breath I have taken after lying to someone and with every moment of happiness I have snatched away from someone, I feel kind of alright, to be very honest.

Maybe I deserve every pitfall and acidic rain drop, maybe that’s the price you have to pay for having everything you want, maybe I will never be happy with anything that I ever achieve, maybe my eyes will still wander as I sit face to face with my future wife, maybe there is no such thing as a soul mate, maybe it’s just one big lie Shahrukh Khan told me. This love that I chase brings down the rain, scratch that, it brings down the god damned pain. it’s close enough to do that, it’s close enough because I let it in, I’s the best thing in my world, it’s also responsible for all the little scars on my knees.

I was alone with lust on a table for a while, I was alone with love behind that table for a while. I took my blinders off and steadied my thoughts, I opened my eyes and let in the callousness of a casual movie shot.

Plot twist asshole!

Heavy hangs the head.

Wind chimed the wind chimes hung from the chimney of the church. The poor man looked at it with hate and sorrow, his brain generating enough neural responses to discover the true meaning of everything that surrounded him, yet somehow it just managed to realize he needed a place to rest and fight away the cold.

Wind rustled the rusted leaves resting neatly on the roads that led to a mansion in a renegade town, not very far from the familiar roads of the man’s existance.

He moved into the doors that were cracked open by a thumping of his knuckles on the correct and appropriate spots. The door that guarded his own personal ruin from the rest of the world.

He entered the manor in a manner not very proper for a man or gent in his position. He walked upright, his chest out and head held high, he looked around the tattered upholstery that regulated his ambitious attempts to develop an attachment with this household he was guarding.

He moved into a room he called his own, a whole room for a homeless man seemed strange to him but the winds were cold and his hunger grew hungrier with every passing second, he wasn’t complaining about irony to the lord right now.

Jesus abandoned him a long time ago, his sins were his own to battle, his cross was the third red light on franklin avenue where it met with albany road, his soul wasnt meant for heaven, hell probably wouldn’t have accepted him either, thats a rich man’s legacy, not a poor man’s territory. 

He looked at his wrist three scabs and a scar that ran vertically up his arm, tales from another time, battles from another generation, his own personal fantasy space opera conducted by a drug induced hallucination convincing him of extra terrestrial companionship.

He lay down on the cold hard floor, the bed towered his field of vision and he considered climbing upon it. This house belonged to him now, it’s his war to win it’s all yours they said as they walked away into the abysmal abyss of nothingness and perpetual spiritual bliss. 

He scaled the fences that surrounded him and climbed the bed to rest easy on the comfortable thorns that pierced his existance . He screams a hollow screach as his mind refuses to face this block that his body refuses to breach.

The man looks upon the grandeur of the Chambers he lies in the reflective nature of the flow of time. The new king looks upon the man that lies on the floor, lying to himself and everything around him his naked shoulders responsible for a whole world full of people.

Heavy hangs the head that holds the crown. 

Dystrophian utopia.

Perfection as it seems is resting on the seams, four billion strong and 2 billion too much, not everyone can be wrong.l

This is all yours to take, a barren piece of a paper waiting for a mark you have to make. Make sure you’re not sticking out to much, this is perfection, we don’t want it to break. 

This is all for you, made for you, you’re made for it too, don’t hesitate it’s a happy time, this world is yours we’re just here for a few more and then it really will be yours.
What is that I hear you say? You think you’re ready to have a go at it? Really? That’s nice, im glad you took a step up from your game. Good going, now just another year or too and it’s all yours for the taking. Seriously, it’s all yours do whatever you want, make it or break it.

No, I told you before this is all yours, you have to care for it by the hour for all your hours. You’re a beautiful child wait for a while whilst I tell you how big your opportunities really are.

No don’t take that road! Hiw are you sure ut doesn’t lead to the wrong state? We’re northerners you’re anortherner, move to the north! I know what I am saying! I know what I’m doing! I’ve already made the same mistakes you feel so good aboit today! 

No dont go east it might not be as good as the north, its uncharted territory! This world is your for the taking, the north will make you king as you inch closer with every prospect towards the new world you’re going to make. The east will be great, but you’ll be a fish in a barrel, dont go there!

This world is yours, dont do that! This journey you need to prepare for is a long tiring joirney. This guy right here won’t be able to guide you, im the river that leads to the ocean he’s strikingly similar to an ox bow, straight from his toes right up to her eye brows. 

You’re ready? Wow, I think you really are! Go! You’re free, do what you want, this world is yours, this life is yours, this perfection we’ve built is all for you, go on amd grab it! You’re tired now? Why? I thought we made sure hard work was a habbit. Come on child get up and work for it, this impressive impression of depressive depression will lead to nothing but oppression from the future operators of these obsessive tendencies to attain perfection. 

We gave you everything and this world is yours. You’re not happy now? Really? It worked out for me, why didn’t it worl out for you?

No. We’re not different! Stop thinking like that! Work harder be responsible, how do you plan on taking the world while taking those pills! Stop this life of crass grass and shiny glass, dont be a chil now. 

This is it kid, your world to take, my part is done, im leaving a million others like me they’ll take care of the perfection we’ve built, you and I.

Carry on.

I want to dance. But i dont know how.

I lie in wake of the demons that have long forgotten these parts of my psyche.

They used to come around back in the day riding solemnly on those accurately poised graves.

They stopped by and looted my mind, they held hostage a part of me, they did the same thing almost everytime.

Those demons are gone now. They dont show up a lot these days.

I call them, i invite them, i hope they’ll come and bring with them a sadness of their post-coital arousal.

They don’t show up these days. Even when I send out formal invites to them.

All that comes is an RSVP card with a firm and assertive no, just letting me bask in the hollow glow of the emptiness in my chest.
I used to feel something earlier.

I wish I could feel even a glimmer of that sadness now.

Little Timmy and the blasphemy Chapter 8

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Timmy’s mind was stuck in a flux of ideas, should he call 911? Should he give her CPR? Should he just bury her?

Timmy decided against the last 2 options, he called 911 immediately.

The ambulance came along swiftly and took Robin’s body and her head whifh now looked like a strawberry slushie poured over a pumpkin that had a giant hole in it.

He waited by the door patiently for 70 minutes, the cops took their own sweet time in getting there.

Once they decided it was time to arrive at the scene they surveyed the scene, they were shocked at seeing Timmy there, what was this little kid doing in Robin’s house?

The cops knew exactly what Robin was, a kidnapper that worked with her partner Brain wecca.

The police had apprehended brain a long time ago but robin had always eluded them.

This teenager, Timmy had been kidnapped by Robin and Brain a long time ago.

He was the biggest reason for all the pay cuts the cops had to go through.

Detective Cooper Kennedy approached Timmy as he sobbed in the window,”Kid, are you alright?” He said in a very comforting tone.

“I’m good sir, but Robin’s brother, my teacher, is somewhere out there. He needs to know what has happened”, Timmy spoke with sincerity.

“Timmy, what do you remember about these people?”

“Robin and her brother were my saviors, I got magical powers from the great conquerer and the brother said I could end the BJ reich if I utilized these powers.”

“Timmy. You were kidnapped, seven years ago we found a vial containing a sedative inside it in your room, The two of them broke into your home at night and took off with you, we’ve been on your trail for al this time Timmy. Frankly we had lost all hope on weather you would be alive right now or not.”

‘But what about the BJ reich, How did I punch that hole in her head? They taught me and trained me, how can they be bad people ?’

“Timmy, Robin and Brain have had a history of kidnapping kids, raising them and killing them once they are 10.”

‘But i’m older than that, they didn’t harm me at all.’

“6 years ago we apprehended Brain while he was buying groceries, He committed suicide in his cell before we could interrogate him. Maybe the loss of Brain made Robin grow closer to you.”

Timmy’s mind was in a state of flux, thinking about everything from the day he got here to his recent interactions with Robin.

How could he have been so stupid, his racist tendencies had been preyed upon by these people, he had been such a fool.

Timmy was overcome by the emotions he was feeling and he began to cry.

Detective Cooper hugged Timmy and led him outside to his car and sat Timmy down in the backseat, “Timmy it’s time we took you home.”

Timmy just nodded and sobbed. Detective Cooper started driving and the car headed straight towards Timmy’s old house.

As the car approached the familiar lanes and parks of Timmy’s old neighborhood, Timmy tried to absorb everything that had happened to him, he finally saw it, the house he grew up in.

There were no cars parked in the driveway, The house looked as if it was inhabited by people who had just given up hope, The paint was flaky, the hedges were unkempt and the porch was dirty. Detective cooper knocked on the doors while Timmy got down from the car.

A woman answered the door and saw the two men standing there, The faces were familiar, She recognized both of them as soon as she saw them.

With tears rolling down her face, she grabbed hold of Timmy and wailed as the seven years of pain and torment finally ended.

The vase.

This post is going to be a disclaimer.

Especially for my mother.

This blog has never been about me, its never about my life. Its not for me. Its just by me. 

This is my way of telling people things I can’t say other wise. Sometimes the things im trying to say aren’t very easy to decipher. 

This blog is never literal. What you read is your perception . 

Im like a 40 year old lady obsessed with collecting flowers for decorating her empty living room.

The people I meet, The experiences we share they’re my flowers. 

This blog is my vase.

Grow up. Get a job. 

I have been away from blogging for a long time now. 

Its been 2 months since I wrote something that made any sense.

The placements started in my college roughly a month ago and they’ve been heartbreaking to say the least.

I got through the first round to my dream program the IGrad at IHG, but slmehow there’s a part of me telling me, as I sit here in a steel tube travelling to my college,” you can’t make it man.”

“You’re just not good enough, the three of them are brilliant. Just look at them, they’re so great, what do you have thats even half as interesting as them?”

I try fighting this voice that just doesn’t believe in me. But apparently nothing I can do will change it.

I’m not saying I don’t believe in myself. I just don’t believe in the circumstances I face and as a result I inherently face the problem of just not being able to get over this 9foot tall mental block that tells a story to me everytime I try to cross it.

I don’t really remember the story but it’s something about this one thing I did so long ago. 

My karma is at an all time low. 

My confidence is out for dinner with my pride. 

Right now I’m not even sure if anything I write has any significance to the larger truth. 

It’s not like I can’t make it.
It’s just that I know that nothing I can do can be good enough. Nothing I believe in can probably be enough for a person like me to make it through to an elite program.
I’ve always been a fish that feeds itself at the bottom. 

But then I look at the people around me. The amiynt of faith they put into me, the way they look out for me, the envy, the jealously, that feeling of constant deliberation as to why they even feel the need to stand with me.

I look at the people around me. I look at my competition and I just dont want to fight anymore. 
I can’t. Fight anymore.

So this is a swan song to the man who wrote his destiny on the insude of a 1X2 matchbox drenched in gasoline and shot it.
Here’s my Farwell.

Here’s bhavya saying so long. And thanks for all the fish.

Little Timmy and the blasphemy Chapter 7 

The sun was shining, bright like… Well the sun. The water in Timmy’s glass felt odorless, tasteless and a colourless with nk shape or form. 

Timmy inferred that the water was in fact water. It had been 6 years since chapter 6 came out, or atleast it seemed like it.

Timmy’s life had changed a lot since the time he was granted super powers by the great conquerer. He was now a grown teenager, full of angst, anger, personality defects and super powers. 

The only thing that really bothered Timmy to the point of being a constant thorn in his  godly backside was the fact that since the past 6 years he had been in the same estate and he still didn’t know the name of Robin’s brother. 

Another thing that bothered him was the fact that in his 6 years of being a super hero god, he had never really done anything…. Apart from kicking the man in the balls, studying and trying to make a pass at Robin.

He never really felt the “super” elements of his “super powers”. Six years on, he was still struggling to cope with his abilities, albeit he still didnt know what those abilities were.

Today, it was all conveniently going to change. Today was the day when he’d break out. 

Robin sat near the window, she was drinking a cup of cocoa. It was june, it was really hot, she was drinking hot cocoa. Timmy smirked, stupid girl, can’t even drink the right drink. 

He approached her and asked her to tell him about the world and what was going on. She told him that the BJ uprising had finally started to die off and that her brother was still out there fighting them.

Timmy remembered the time when the rebels demanded voting rights, his mentor had fought them all off single handedly and ensured that the BJ rebels remained chained to the lower reaches of poverty in society, he ensured they never had any rights and remained the poor kosher bicycle stealing scum of the earth.
Robin told him that right now he was out fighting the others. “Robin, im ready! Let me go out and fight them!”

‘Oh my sweet Timmy, i wish you were.’

” I am!” 

‘You are not ready yet.’

“Ill fight you to prove it!”

‘Ok then, hit me!’

Timmy jumped and punched her in the face. She collapsed to the ground with am incredible thud, Timmy was scared.

Her breathing was slow, Timmy checked for a pulse, but he didn’t know where the pulse was. There was blood everywhere. There were little squishy pink bits on Timmy’s hand. Suddenly Robin stopped moving. 

Timmy started crying. He had just killed Robin. His powers were too strong for him to control! He wasn’t ready yet! He just wasn’t!