VOID

"this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object"

                                                                                               - The Joker

                                                                                                    (R.I.P.)

its all coming back.the fortress of solitude.cut off.drift off. the  pointlessness of being.used to be confusing in happier days.scarily so,isn't now.the finality is sinking in with a really calm candour. the sickening routine of groping for words.the attitudinal and behavioral pattern, the continuance of which can have only one resultant; the blur of chaos shards where incoherence and disdain reign supreme.the abject disconnect.nothing to state.nothing to declare.to the point of being almost at peace with the hopelessness of the situation.like a warped lap at thunderhead.at a point where the road ahead is almost like a simulated fucking obstruction versus slalom course. not quite sure about the resolve to cross it this time though.the world was given up on long back.the anomaly seems to be taking the same course now.its like watching a richter topping earthquake in slow motion and admiring the hopeless serenity in an aspect of its magnanimous entirety.the fatal flaw of hubris is working like a modded supra failing to find traction at 8000 rpm.like listening to beethoven's ninth with a scotch on the balcony while a satellite view of the planet shows criscrossing mitotic orange mushroom clouds enveloping everything around me,with a calm realization of a saturated grainy grayness to follow.complacency at its very best.or worst.a lot like what john connor might have felt at crystal peak.but there is no war.there is no solution to a stalemate.no enemy to vanquish or die fighting against. nothing. just an emptiness that is like an hourglass where the movement has been postponed indefinitely.like being part of a car crash in slow motion where the pile up continues like a deja vu overlapped to infinitesimally complicated and everchanging proportions that pursue a disturbing symmetry on the fractal curve.lorentz would have been proud.so would malcolm.escape is inevitable.hell,should've listened to smith when he said that its the sound of inevitability.will make him a janitor program if he comes back with a cheeky i told u so.used to question the quirk warps in my existence at a point in time.its over. don't feel the need to anymore.could be a good thing. or the worst thing i may have faced. but i think i sincerely don't care anymore.still don't believe in the concept of destiny or  fate but i think i'd attribute it to the extreme non application of foresight.could have saved the anomaly from the angular collision course.should have heeded the funny man in time.

too bad.

QUANTUM OF SOLACE

 "love cannot survive in the event of subzero quantum of solace"

                    - Ian Fleming

distance.

disconnect.

been at these crossroads before.the timing is just the worst ever.for once,groping for some support.clink.flash of light.burning paper.simmering tobacco.smoke.billowing blue and ultraviolet in the only surviving light of the computer screen.the smoke irritates the already weak eye muscles.a tear trickles out.but i'm still not crying.not smirking either.its this fucking suspended animation that i've come to despise to the core.its not anger.it ain't despair either.what the fuck is wrong?

would have fucking walked off as usual with a trademark goodbye had it been someone half as imperatively vital to sanity.exhale.cough.cough again.why? where did i fucking go wrong? talk it out.talk what out? weren't the cards laid out from the outset? did i put a full stop sumwhere that i'm not aware of till date?

darker days ahead.the tunnel continues.nightvision just makes it more eerie.the absence of the anomaly is worse than an aberrant presence.the presence is summin that can be painful at times like a safety net of barbwire but i'm used to it.i love it.don't feel like giving it up.have no idea whether its special or just the usual or at the nadir of human relationships.at a juncture where i can safely say that it is at a point of no return.i'll stay right here.don't know whether its ill advised,hopelessly romantic or fate.the anomaly can play a card of choice.i play blind.and up the stakes a notch.

prefer pain to death.death is the state of absentia of anomaly.the shimmering blue scythe might turn out to be slightly too sharp for me to handle.it is an appeal.please stay.

THE UPSHIFT THEORY

pain.

why? 

was it not by choice that i moved off?slinked off first and then wrenched out and flushed out into the trash.why desecrate it now? do i miss them? should i miss them?

it was like a fucken time lapse.people meeting each other.reacting.smiling.wisecracks.buttcracks.jackasses.assholes.good people.friends.foes.friends turned foes.foes turned friends.and on my part,an abject unwillingness to flinch.it made a difference.wasn't like i didn't want to react.have lost the will to.some said i had gained too much moss.some said i'd just grown older.i believe i'm just paranoid.one single interaction,the whole cause and effect of which can be unnerving is summin i'd rather avoid.break all bonds.forge none.the old pain may come creeping back up again.but i'm bloody as hell determined not to let a new one make room for itself.there's a threshold for every being...normal,abnormal,paranormal.i've reached mine.not anymore.maybe they are right.i might just be too old for this.disconnected.the people i cud die for at a point of time.just a completely confused state of existence.

and the bloody chip on the shoulder.trigger happy.always polishing the muzzle.cradling the blade.ready to pull the pin.pull the plug.and walk off with disdain.is it the inability to feel?couldn't be.then how is the pain justified.nothin is regrettable.the good times.the bad times.the times now.but that dull thump of a recurring migraine persists.why?like the blinding shock that sets in wen ya get up after a real bad mangled accident with a partially open skull,white knuckles and knees that slowly get flushed with red and asymmetrical blobs pouring the life outta you.wen the lips go dry slowly and ya choke on ur own blood as the post trauma cigarette [the feel of which can only be countered by a post coital cigarette..don't fuckin ask me how.go do it and then draw parallels before ya decide to trash me on this one].

still can't figure out what the fuck happens to go wrong here. the whole situation is like watching an autistic kid playing.u know there's summin about the kid that ain't right but u'll ignore it first,try removing it subsequently and finally try and wash yer hands off it.i guess that should be the endeavour here.move on.shift the gear.ignore the noise.the engine will have a proper run in someday.till then,just gear up for more potholes.good roads.crossroads.but enjoy the ride.don't kill the engine on the shoulder and hang yer boots...yet.