Everybody seems so far away

The literati mafia

I’m listening to Look on Down from the Bridge by Mazzy Star and there’s something about the concept of finding freedom by abandoning everything I’ve known that appeals to me. I’m sick of it all honestly. The women and the sex. The cigarettes and the booze. And this isn’t some ephemeral disease of the soul like heartbreak or failure. No, this is a deeper cry that resounds through my very core beating any millennial petulance. When I was younger, I dreamt and dreamt of things I thought will materialize, coalesce and take shape, carrying me to objects of affection and wreaths of adoration. Now, I’m older, writing bawdy, perverted, shitty poetry on Google Hangouts to people who get me (or don’t) but the truth is I’m in this ramshackle bar of my depravity. The puke of consciousness staining everything, and in this nasty Tophet I’m shaking the bartender by the…

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  1. These moments of almost-epiphany. Who am I really? A joker? A wretch? A drunk? A good son? The guy on the stool at the bar? Haunted eyes in a mirror? Maybe none. Maybe all of the above. Still, we rise up and keep going.

    1. but I’m here in my mold, I am here in my mold.
      But I’m a million different people from one day to the next
      I can’t change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no – The Verve. Yeah it is a moment of almost-epiphany. I think I’ll write a follow up poem of sorts describing where I’m at now. And true we must keep going. Thank you Tara.

      1. Nitin, I’ve been worried about you for about a week now. I hope that a moment of clarity comes upon you and peace floods your soul. You are so much more important than you even realize.

        1. I sincerely hope so too Tara. It’s been very difficult and I’m doing my best to cope. I would love for peace to flood my soul. Thank you so much for the support my friend.

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