Archive for January, 2018

37. Thought Crime. (2012)

What is “Thought Crime”?

“A thoughtcrime is an occurrence or instance of controversial or socially unacceptable thoughts.”

The term comes from the novel ‘1984’ by George Orwell. 1984 is the story of a man, and a society, that eroded into a cycle of forced control, blind routine and ultimately a total loss of free will. Out of fear, the citizens fight their natural instincts to think and act freely, and, also out of fear, the rulers of the society fight to suppress them.

No one on either side conceptualized or realized any sort of progressive or suitable destiny; Their lives began and ended a series of pre-manufactured actions and pre-determined conclusions…

Read On…

38. No fantasy. (2013)

(Following a serious surgery in 2012, I could barely walk, my left foot didn’t work, I was taking pain medicine I hated, and couldn’t think clearly about anything that I loved. None of it made any sense, but none of that made any difference. If I stopped, it all stopped.
For better or worse, I didn’t.)


Guilt has smothered the last breath of love.

Pain has eclipsed happiness, and neutralized fear.

…They. …Have. …Flatlined.

Anything… worth, feeling.

My attempts to reclaim my mind have driven far too much attention towards others, and far too much away from myself.

Selfish hands have strangled the Naeman lion, driven the stake into the heart of the last Vampire;

Guilt and pain have proven, that when met in sharpest form,

it is safer to relent than resist.

Waiting for the clouds to lift quickly became a snake eating its tail;

The flaw, you see,

was believing

something worthwhile

lived behind them.

No fantasy, will save me, from me.

New-old world. (Picture- 2017)

No stars Words as weapons, and weapons as friends;
Once the pen joins the sword, both weak and mindless, meet their end.

39. Curse of Awareness #2. (2017)

There is a gloom that lives here when the weather turns mean, and people either fight it like an enemy, or succumb to it, and spend an entire season in misery. I’ve never really minded it, with the exception of watching how it makes others treat, others.

The drive back to home base was short; A small consolation for the cargo I was retrieving being heavy, clunky, dirty, and freezing fucking cold. Metal pipes, even stored inside a garage door, didn’t seem to warm much past the single-digit temperature outside it. I drove appropriately cautiously, considering both the unusual weather and my irregular passengers.

Driving towards an underpass, I noticed a commotion.

Cars were honking and swerving, in very tight quarters, and for a reason I couldn’t quite distinguish until I got closer. Upon under-passing, I saw the obstruction:

It was a man. In a wheelchair. That had tipped over.

Read On…