I don’t feel like writing tonight.

Basking in the silence of these blank spaces

embedded in nonsensical chatter.

Free from my incessant rant;

A lull in the war between my conscious thoughts

and unconscious interruptions.

I’ve grown weary of my mind.

I don’t feel like listening tonight.

Black ink on a piece of paper

mirroring the darkness from deep inside my dreams;

Nightmares to whoever lays eyes upon and listen’s to the words

on this parchment stained with the blood of a thousand lives.

Lives I’ve lived inside my mind,

with each thought that pervades an existence that preceded it.

I don’t feel like seeing tonight.

With my eyes shut,

dead in the silence of this darkness.

Free from images of that, which is un-perceivable.

The fragrance of rain that washed away my past

and gave me a chance to live a future

which I spend in search of memories

that have long been forgotten in the rain.

Floating in Unconscious space;

Suspended in the empty vacuum of my heart;

Far from the reach of light and fear of the dark;

My silence sets me free from my bondage,

severing my ties to this self-righteous trap we set in our minds,

and so fondly refer to, as “society”.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Cure the diseased mind and rid it of your self-righteous social bondage.