puck the junkie

[Nikunj Bansal]

ACID in my throat, toad, bloody I,

ugly yuk made of puke, blood.

FREE me from the sod, bead lead 

no good deed, seed of slow death.

the worst life I have chosen for me, the worst I tell you the worst. I chose man-made disability. Who am I? The golden boy or rust of scrap. I am definitely born in the wrong time, I feel sometimes. Past or future, not sure, but not for present for sure. Why was I even born dammit? They gave me no clear instruction, no agenda, no propaganda, no deadline, no system crashes. Why am I born? I am not even a machine that someone else could use for benefit. I am a bum. Day by day getting messier. The huge mass collected around smells of dead rats, the cat in all her bloody 9 lives never ever threw the bones out. All those years of stink. Bones corroding too inside, leaking black tar, smelling like rotten eggs, like some sulphate. shit. 

And to talk about stupidity…once the most considerate and humble and wise guy has u-turned into a brash, impulsive, narcissistic maniac. when shyness gave way to wryness, I could never identify. when lonely tears gave way to blank stares, i don’t know. I am not this guy. In the mirror I always see me. I always see that godly me. at this exact moment, I hate this impersonator me, my blood boils with anger and only cuss words come to my mind. If I don’t write today, I might never write. I succumb to life. 

The problem is the never-failing formula I have hit upon for petty survival. It eats up a lot of memory and is known to probably clear some disk as well, and in the long run it may probably lead to a terrific crash. Till then, all major programs run without strict complaint. mother board gave a warning signal long long time back, and she still gets a few sleepless nights, well she knows it all. She built the whole system after all. Charles Babbage doesn’t give a fuck. Never did. Can’t care now. Its only because the atom is built to survive, will this compound that is me, survive; and thrive. 

There’s only a limit my body can expand. The only solution is to let my mind expand and make my body believe. The only way my mind can work is if my body allows it to. My mind controls my body, doesn’t it? I am screwed. I am screwed for life. I was born to be screwed to life. Someone up there is observing and probably enjoying or making notes - how to not fuck up at a simple thing like living. The only way my mind can work is if there’s no acid in my throat bumming me to resurrect. A mind can only do so much at once..