The Discriminant of The Iota

And we keep driving into the night its a late goodbye

Cobain wafting in my room as it flows into my veins, killing me softly, wondering what it felt to die, to break away into some veritable abyss, how would it be to sit by wait to be consumed by the streams of venom inside, a part of my dystopian existence. How do i feel about it ? Ah! there aren't any crescendos here after which the truth sets in, nor are the nymphs reciting paeans about me, i wish i weren't a travesty but a slice of some thing tangible, not a mere glimmer merely a streak, so as i sit with the ashen myself, i still think of what i thought i would be my whole life.

No, i wish i were a pain in the ass, lachrymose, sullen, sick wierdo, or the incomprehensible, never getting to know the milieu, figuring out conformity in a swarm, looking for straight lines in circles, shapes in a void,i wish i was that odd book, i wish i was…… but it wasn’t meant to be, i was the trumpet on a funeral party, sax in rap, the glaring oddity, the one thing that made you jump, stop for second to figure out, or just mumble “even this was possible”, and for  person who went at length to do this, i guess that was who i am or surely who i was……

Ah! i just begin to loose control, wonder how similar is life outside and venom inside, its a high in the beginning, a new rush within, rocking the shores inside, almost like the unforgiving waves crashing on the beach, and i make a spectacle of myself, people wait for blames when they read such loser tales, they wait for the sorry pathetic loser to fix responsibilities, they fear, they wonder, ………….they laugh, i wish i could blame someone or even myself, i heard tales every night from my grandmother, who thought she would never wake up the next morning, holding me close to her heart, as i slept, i just have this one last Monk, its almost funny when i think how the monk would meet the poison in my veins, and say, hey just let the jerk finish this one last bottle.

Now my legs are down and eyes puffy, and me figuring what went wrong, or i was i not prepared to take it, did this have to go down this way, its easy to quit life, yeah all it took were few google searches to find the right mix, but now i recall the last days, they were the same, the same old me, tumbling over, laughing my heads off at corner, jumping with the kids at the pavement, pinching my eyes at the sight of the girl at the coffee counter, yeah it was the same, friends, people, me,…. life. And yet i sit at the very end of it, what do i feel guilty about, wish it were some list of sorry tales but as non plussed as i am, i have none to offer, and to honest just sorry mom i didn’t see it coming, coz even i hadn't thought of it.

These are my last words and just as i read back what i wrote, i know now why i am going, what i am sorry for at this moment, i am sorry because it isn’t glitzy, or glossy as they show it when heroes go down, its not dramatic, despite my effort to make it, its not something i wanted it to end up like, its again what i ended up making out of my life, trying to be someone else, a piece of story for others to tell, a joke for someone else, a good boy for the neighbour hood aunty, a shit-bag for drink buddies, a figure for some to follow, and when they find me that's what they will talk again…. now that’s some way to die………….

……even as i go as a whimper……and i take my last try( to quote a memorable last words) Catch ya later

--DUNNO WHO I AM

(  SORRY FOR RUINING YOUR " DUDE ITS A NEW YEAR" MOOD, IF I DID, ITS JUST THAT SOMEONE CLOSE TO ME WANTED TO WRITE THIS ONE)