All the things I am and I’m not

never an idea,
or an ideology,
a theory
or a theoretician’s
system of hermeneutics,
an empath’s purgatory,
a sympathizer’s dice,
never landing on the
right digit.

I have
reasons for
each decision I topple
saving me from the brink…
of destruction, or worse,
and loneliness is just
a soft draw from a child’s
magnet, compared to
the pull from the
Soft Gamma Repeater
that yanks me back
to solitude like a hound
on a leash.

I’ve lived
an existential Golgotha,
skulls of pain and terror
that they cannot
and it led to a
sense of purposelessness,
never generalized,
but seeping through
and through,
to give me an absence
that makes me
not stay motionless
or just drift with the flow,
but to set my back
against a wall, close my eyes,
smoke my cigarette,
inhale, exhale,
never bothering,
wanting or

I’m just a pawn
in this complicated
game with rules
that we ignore,
and often a foe
lights a fire
that I nod at,
but I don’t take
the bowl of soup offered,
respect given and taken,
and a friend
shakes my hand,
before slapping some
sense into me,
and I hate, but then acknowledge,
respect given and taken.

I will stay in
my madness,
expressing myself in
ways that contradict
or seemingly contradict
darting, avoiding,
a stab in the back or front,
in ways uncanny,
never doing it alone,
no, never alone,
but with a hand of destiny.

I am
an anomaly,
an entity,
a liar and an
honest man,
but in the end,
I am
alone and just (me).

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

Protected by Copyscape

16 responses

    • Thank you Diana. I extend my hand too. We’re cool. Wait isn’t that a Gwen Stefani song about an ex! On a serious note I’m burying all grievances with the world and people. And I’m humbled by your comment :)

      • Smiling from afar. We are cool – and I can chest bump and high five with you to prove it. I may look petite but watch I don’t bowl you over ;)

      • Haha. I suck at chest bumping and high fives. It was my weakness on the football field, and yes it is football, not that gridiron one man hero stuff. You’ll have to come to India to prove it 😏

      • Ugh. Gridiron is also not the football I grew up with in Australia, we have a wonderfully athletic version that defies description. I shall come to India someday :) My friends insist that everyone must see India at least once in their lives!

      • Wonderfully athletic would be Real Madrid, but sublimely aesthetic would be Barcelona. I tune into Indian Football now and then. We’re catching up. One of the youth World Cups was held here. And do tell me when you’re here. I’m hopefully not in Canada then!

      • I will have to conjure the courage for your immense nation of wonderful sights, diversity and warmth. I wouldn’t know where to begin even. But I’m absolutely enamoured by your people and their kindness toward me online.

      • Well you can start with the South where I stay. It’s a little more peaceful here. That’s my opinion at least. And I get to eat beef! But yes, Indians are kind online. The neurotic albeit nonchalant ones like me, and I’ll reserve that (me) make no sense off line! Before you know it I’ll be mooching off medical practices and jotting down sonnets!

      • I’ve taken your blood pressure young man, and I’m afraid it’s not good news. I will need you to start an atrocious exercise regime of less sonnets, and more situps!

      • Situps. I’m not the hit the gym dude. I’m a hit the track guy. I was at least. Can I cheat and write a sonnet about situps? See, we’ll both be pleased. I’ll add a dark twist in the end too.

      • Haha, you have me chuckling here. Are you about to start your day kind sir? I’m retiring for the evening … pardon me if I distracted you with my lighthearted froth.

      • Lol. So it’s not a secret anymore. You should go through my earliest posts and see the commenters and likers. They’ve all left me Diane. They have.

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