..Sip this..

..And the Oscar Goes to..

I want to take this moment to thank my drug store for supplying me
all the pills on time, My doctor for having such a short signature,
My technicians backstage who have helped me forge his signature
over and over again, the smiling bob at the entrance of wal-mart
on the way to cvs pharmacy counter, for his smile to let me know,
though my forearm was a fucking mine field with all the punctures
of disposable needles, that everything is just fine. My employer for
taking my pre-employment drug-screening test only once before I
joined and for forgetting how easy it is to fake it.
The passyourdrugtest.com support team for providing me with the
fake urine samples. The stout little lady, with a southern accent, at
my drug screening center for leaving me alone in the restroom, with
out checking my pockets before I gave her the fake urine sample.
My college news paper editor for publishing the article that got me
interested in the drug abuse phenomenon in the first place.
And the countless pharmaceutical companies manufacturing the
heavy dosage pills. I know that I am running out of time and the
you are going to start the background music I mean the requiem ,
will start soon asking me kindly fuck off from this fucking stage of life.
Before the lights go out, I assure you that for the rest of the days in
my grave I will live up to the expectations of all you have made this
“play” a grand tragedy.

what did you see ?

Tell me, the one who watches me through the mirror,

I’ve met you before, not long ago,

When you had a glitter in your eyes

I saw you eager and restless,

In constant search for answers,

Questions were all you had.

What is that you were looking for?

“Nothing” I saw in the things around me,

“Nothing” Is what I still see.

You’ve made me look sometimes,

Look for the meaning in the vanity around me.

Oh you ugly one..!

Now I see you, different from what you were.

Numb is your grimace.

Worn out are your eyes,

from the vigor of youth you once had.

Awake you look now,

Where have all the dreams gone?

You’ve grown calmer,

Is silence the answer,

Questions were all you had.

Torn apart is your soft and supple skin,

Skin, that used to shield your youthful bliss from malice.

You still look back at me through those countless folds on your face.

Tell me, what have you seen?

……

….

..

.

I’ve seen you, you looking at me in the mirror.

L.I.V.I.N

You are a 20 something, laid back, relaxed, numbed by the day time reality television, having coffee thrice a day, a pack of cigarettes for every 3 days, a visit to the corner video store to rent the action thriller classic the dialogues of which you know by heart by now. Next Friday is how far your planning goes. The news that interests you most than the thousands dying in a war not too far from your home, is when the lead singer of your favorite band will start running out of bucks to pay for his personal get fuel, and starts pulling up a washed ups album cover. And then there is the news about when your favorite TV show’s next season is going to start, Oh I bet you can’t wait to see the first promos. And then there is news about the dispute over the dead body of a former stripper/model/reality TV star/play-boy bunny which you can’t escape, apparently every one seems to be talking about it. Your mood swings are triggered by the results of a soccer match between an English soccer club for which you would live and die for. All the so called knowledge that you’ve been piling on all your life seems worthless because you can’t install an ipod-holder to go along with your car stereo. It feels good doesn’t it? When your bills are paid directly from your bank account, and when the constant measly amount that is just enough to keep you living this life gets deposited into your account at the end of every month, no matter how many traffic tickets / DUIs you get you can stay assured that it will cover for ‘em. It’s not going to be long before you are 30 something, laid back, relaxed, and still numbing yourself to day time television, mundane daily chores, and coffee thrice a day, a pack of cigarettes for every 3 days voila! Your life is indeed B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L.

Hey, wait a second do I even know you? I donno, I’d rather get back to my couch and tune in to that cartoon show with a fat kid who makes me laugh and feel alive than any conversation I had in years.