Moon is a big pizza pie, scusami

 17th December

In my imagination, Italy is a place for food, dancing, coffee, yellow daffodils and sex. Italians are people with their hearts full. Full of pleasure, love and laughter. I fantasize about living in an Italian village, all alone, in a cottage between the yellow daffodil fields. Carrying bread baskets, garlic and tomato sauce, making pasta at home. A tropical like weather and a mountainous region and a beach too. The kind of music you could work to all day and at the end you treat yourself to some mind blowing pasta or baked eggplant or pizza or anything in the world you can imagine that has garlic in it or even some delicious men, maybe. I am ready to farm the land myself, wash my clothes, cook my own breakfast, own a few cats and dogs and take care of them myself. I want to do it all. As long as it is in Italy. With a yellow daffodil field and maybe even a vineyard. When I am 35, I will escape the world. I will quit whatever I am doing and run quietly to Italy. Till the age of 35, I will be building that vintage cottage with a library and a gramophone and my coffee mug collection which will be humungous by then. I will be preparing land for my daffodil field and vineyard. 

The day it is all done. I will escape. Making my fantasy world a reality. I will do it alone. All alone. I don't mind dying alone in a chair with my dogs, cats and books. Also, I will write books. Some maybe nonsensical, but atleast it will be mine. My work left in the world after I die. Even paintings. 

My loved ones, 

When I die, publish my poetry, even the pornographic poems that I have. Give them all to the world. Let it mutate, but only after I die. I can't see my work being altered by donkey heads with no ideas of their own. I have always believed that ideas come from the world, hence it must be given back to the world no matter what. But, only after the final flicker of my life's ember. That way I won't be truly alone.

I have questioned existence enough. Maybe, I need to experience existence itself. 

This is probably just my black coffee talking, but I must do this. I don't want to be a sad fuck walking around with poetry hidden away in diaries. 

Popular posts from this blog

The Joke is on "You"

Image
How do I go about solving a conflict, wherein the heart is too brittle to endure loneliness and the ego is too engorged to ask for help. My heart, a desperate lover seeking reassurance on an hourly basis, and the ego, a thick skinned imbecile never allowing the heart its bravery. If only she could shove him to the edge of my body, and deep dive into the infinite possibilities the world has to offer.  So, the three of us, stuck together as an incompetent team, push and pull one another with our own prerequisites and the desired outcomes. The result? An evergreen jungle of emotions, a suspicious view of the world, and an undying need to escape.  But, what if. Just, what if. The three of us walked in unison toward a common goal. What could be the resultant of this minor escapade? Nearly revolutionary. In the face of failure however, all three of us would wish to disappear from the face of earth with an agreed upon timing to quit the game.  Until then, the bickering, the dile...
Read more

9:9:9- Cosmic Code of Change

 9th September, The last working day of my short, barely existent corporate life. I blinked, it began, I blinked, it ended. A decision of my own, defying expectations, recommendations and opinions of most. The purpose of this resignation in rebellion, out of passion, and hidden desires. Let me cease to exist in this social realm of the human race. I need not give explanations, I need not give answers, I need not reason others. I have reasoned, answered and explained myself. That is enough. Although seemingly in sync to parental expectations, the very reasoning of the act is in opposition too. I feel the famous "Me against the World". I have absolutely no regrets, although my sanity and impulsivity is questionable, I know I am right. Not to be too egoistic, but I feel spiritually backed up, even if my fellow humans say this is an act of stupidity. I feel it in my gut, the pulsing of navel, and the throbbing heartbeat.  (Very ironicaly, AC/DC's thunderstruck is playing in t...
Read more

Please Find Attached- PFA

Image
My heart reaches out to my intestines in an attempt to twist them upside down. My brain stops as it concentrates on the changing position of the organ that it so meticulously wishes to drive. Then there is not a trifle of my mind left to be utilized. Closing my eyes, I picture drifting shapes of my insides as I am looked top to down by the world. What for? For my dumbness, for my uselessness and for my inability to succeed. A departed body walking around with a highly capable brain, that is being wasted away to the sensation of the twisting intestines. Every time I try, I trip on my own expectations. Then I lie on the floor pretending that this was a choice I made, as rivers of failures flow down my face. I continue laying as my heart successfully manages to damage my intestines. I continue laying as connoisseurs comment on my distasteful act of falling. Which probably occurred due to my unintelligent brain. I don't know what pains me more, my own expectations or being deemed as du...
Read more