"khali dimag ...shaitan ka ghar"
empty head is the abode of the devil(oh my! what a ;literal translation)
the head is empty so are the hands and im really pissed...i have nothin to do...and im feeling too lazy to get up and find some work so that im not bored.......and the devil in my head tells me odd things......funny they are as i know they arent true.......
no one loves me....
no one wud care if i die.....and even if they do, the care will just vanish in a few days......
no one misses me as much as i miss them.......
am i good enough for nift??
am i even good enough for life.....?
will i ever be able do what i want to do......?
why are things not in my hands.....specially my own life....?
my life will suck i know it
i can relly just go and die
i shouldn't wait for anyones cal....specially cause im not not worth all that
(something i dont wanna write)
i live in a make believe world......and wen im practical....life takes its chance to ruin me.......
i am not good at anything.....
and i guess the more im writing the more truths i find in his words........
thr is a lovely smell of wet earth round me.....while im watching the late night shift on channel V and MTV...after hours and graveyard shift .......its a rolling stones number......streets of love......who the hell are "warrants".....this is the first time ive heard them....nice actually.....
the streets of love are already trodden upon............walked and im worn out......not of love .....but of the hurt .......i want my life back to me.....
4 comments:
nobody else can do that for you...and the problem is you know that already
adi
the life i talked about is sitting in chennai....shit scared...about me....wondering what im doing to myself....
the life cant be back for another year....
I really enjoyed looking at your site, I found it very helpful indeed, keep up the good work.
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Dear writer... and hello from down here in Southern California; where the sun is orange gold with yellow oxyde... and the clouds only last as long as the Pacific Fog. In this dimension is that... answer, but how about finding a shade under layers of wrought ideas? Just sifting through the Oranges, of a desire most wanted yet created by what is purely superficial? No only us that have lived in real hell can tell you... this is a fucking good site. I shall come back and spill red paint all over you neat Adobes, and hopefully... some Ebony Blacks. For it is when I am and if I were... then I only care for the blott. Jesse Mendez
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