the bromazepam

“i prefer neurotic people. i like to hear rumblings beneath the surface.” stephen sondheim
(disclaimer: if you're reading this you're my kinda people)

wobbly legs, highly sedated – an afterlife right beneath, i wake up to decide that the day deserves nothing more than some ‘good’ music, chips and coke. and the ‘tube’, ofcourse. this is the good life. shunning the complexities of my mind i breathe to looking up for the most weirdest tunes. i am happy with it being this simple ‘everyfuckingday’. and its not the bromazepam talking, every now and then i sit back and reflect on the missing pieces. i want random people trick me into believing that this canvas is worth a million smiles. i am not compassionate, yet just as plain and just as bland as ‘something or someone’ i cant remember. “puruesh”. my name, my blog-i’ll use it as and when i please-shock of neurosis. people with absolute sensibility of self-assurance have the ability to think change and acquire the art of manipulation. they connect. many like myself connect with them. its an art. to co-exist in a contained and self contaminated environment. be indifferent and riddled.

trippy music. different beats. and life makes sense. when we believe. we preach. when we preach. we praise. when we praise. we lose. when we lose. we start looking for the missing pieces. and then we reconnect.

we should have short conversations. simple conversations. which finishes exactly the same moment they begin. highly unlikely. but we could definitely manage short sentences. fewer words, lesser jargons. clarity. living in this heat – one could easily get delusional and impulsive. irrationality becomes thy most favourite sport. imagine not being able to justify the wrong. infact imagine not knowing the wrong. reminds me of president bush. youtube it. the iraq war. his bloopers could win him an emmy. it still aint the bromazepam.

i am forgetting the caps. on purpose. i loathe people pleasers. and i happen to be in communications. ironic. the story of my life revolves around sets of obsessions. each set has a consequence. a consequence worth living only once. twice would be a mistake, pure stupidity. life in chapters is definitely not worth a read. life at random is definitely amiss ;). i prefer the latter. nauseatingly-exciting. if i were a librarian, would i be reading them books or stacking them alphabetically? neither.

.dne eht