The symphony of life is a bittersweet one, but we hardly get the opportunity to strike the chords, so lying back in my bed when I try to call upon my muse it shows its middle finger and asks me to fuck off. I try to find sense in my failure; try meaninglessly to search for that one thing that could inspire me, invigorate me and I gradually end up in perpetual agony of hopelessness. They say desperation is born out of despair, but my anguish comforts me, bizarrely it keeps me sane. I see that my addiction towards that inactive stage grows each time I lose the battle against my dormant vision.
Am I finally losing it or is it that the canvas of life is too dark to be colored by mere words? Perhaps I am too freaking lazy to correct my idiosyncrasies.
A perfect product of this ‘fucked up era’ where my crippled emotion is my only refuge, where expressions become a luxury for I am too goddamn exhausted to play with prosody. I am stuck in an orb…confined in a niche I have carved for myself where thoughts elude my empty brain and aggravation sedates my tautened nerves.
I assemble up to type my hollow words and then I lounge back yet again to leer at my futile efforts…I slither back to enjoy the mirth of oblivion.
written by ananya chatterjee
Work in progress. It's easier to write about pain and losses than about happiness and gains. At times, what I write is not necessarily my reality, but if you think it's connected somewhere, I don't deny it. What we write, often is what we are, what we think or what we wish for. #ShravanWrites #poet #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poetrycommunity #poetryofig #poetryofinstagram #poetryisnotdead #love #madlove #writing #writer #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #spilledink #instapoem #instalove #instapoetry #poetrycollection #book #amwriting #art #artcollective
3 weeks ago