Loneliness … loneliness … loneliness … loneliness … more loneliness … even more loneliness … lonely loneliness … loneliness inside loneliness … bitter loneliness … painful loneliness … abandoned in loneliness … left to die in loneliness … surrounded by loneliness … inescapable loneliness … damned loneliness … fucken loneliness … universal loneliness … unending loneliness … true loneliness … meaningless loneliness … lonely meaninglessness … alone with someone … someone alone … someone unwanted except by loneliness … trapped in loneliness … cold loneliness … dark thoughts of loneliness … loneliness feeding on loneliness … lonely tears … lots of lonely tears … suppressed screams of loneliness … a lonely sigh
This is a group of poems/letters which I’ve written over the past months.
A lucid dream
(I started writing this one on 03-07-2017 and finished it on 10-07-2017. I remember writing it as a letter to my love some time during the same month.)
You know how, when in a lucid dream,
the boundaries of reality become so fragile
I wanna take you out of this world
Away from all of its demons and all of its gods
Dear Beloved S.,
Today I heard about a study on the effect of looking into a lover’s eyes for some time. They found that if two lovers continuously keep eye contact for a sufficient amount time (if I remember correctly: more than 4 mins), their brain activities sync. Moreover, they also found that their heart beats can sync too! One researcher described it as becoming “one large synchronized system”. Maybe that’s why I find myself staring into your eyes whenever I can without being able to explain why. Sorry if that bothers you.
Dear Beloved S.,
Once upon a time, a couple of ducks were waiting patiently for their new baby ducks (ducklings) to hatch out of their eggs. Although all of the eggs looked the same, when they hatched, one specific duckling looked very different than all of the others. Yes, the other ducklings weren’t identical, but this duckling was very different. His neck was weirdly longer, his legs were weirdly darker, and even the color of his feathers was weirdly unusual. The mother and father ducks were so surprised, but they did their best to love him just like any other of their ducklings. The other ducklings, however, weren’t so nice to him. They never stopped making fun of him and avoiding him, and they called him “the ugly duckling”. As they grew up, our duckling tried his best to fit in by trying to act and look like like all of the normal ducklings. But despite all of his efforts, he never succeeded. The more he grew up the more obvious the differences became. He didn’t look like the others, didn’t walk or swim like them, and he didn’t sound like them. He always hated himself for being an outcast. Continue reading
When Oppenheimer witnessed an experimental atomic explosion, he reportedly remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita, “Now I [have] become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
This, to me, is a very strong line. It often makes me think about how it didn’t say “I bring death” or “I have become the source of death”, and instead describes a state of “becoming death” itself. It’s so much power that it’s not only a “destroyer of lives”, rather a destroyer of entire worlds.