A man losing himself, marching with Death, and occasionally delusional, struggles to veer away from his compulsions, vehemently denying the clarity of ordinary life. Can deep contemplation give rise to macabre visions? What happens when the attempts to resolve the maze-like twists-and-turns of a deranged mind break down? Does the idyllic self, in contempt, reveal a profane and diabolical side? Some men can answer this with a tone of authority. Others go through spirals of Decadence, spending even years and becoming obscure and absurd in the pursuit of authenticity, blurring the difference between real and unreal. The narrator's condition, exhausted after constant reasoning and self-reflection, declines, followed by a subsequent loss of morale, breeding fear, which pervades into his surroundings. A Conviction in logic paves the road to freedom, or so he believes until the noxious elements of his own experiences begin to unhinge him. The book is the Journal of an outsider, trying to articulate a method to overcome the momentary only to severe ties with the present. Will he understand the deeper meaning of existence after being in limbo, wasting with his degenerating memories and desires? Release date: 21 April 2021 Publisher: Become Shakespeare

1. Preface — Echoes off a Tropical Bandit
I got the name ‘alibi albino’ when Zombie plugs swore upon me.
Have you listened to the Poet’s news?
The merry-go-round I used to visit is off the dais now.
No one seems scrambled in their heads.
There is a kindergarten I often visit.
The clowns are all drunk.
All is not lost; what’s left is a bet.
If you look into a Poet’s stomach, there are cartons of panic.
Feathers of a Fool are picked at night.
Red, Blue, and Black is the rapture of my dreams.
The Anchor to my mind is a rush.

2. Turquoise Dilemma

3. March 23, 2020 ∆ 20:00
The room’s air ails with burnt yearnings and is sworn upon by the ghastly. On this twilight,
I raise a concern. A bloated intrigue moves ahead of me. I stand either abstracted or
blurred. I angst upon the questions. Here, the dread is born while sleep is broken. I leave
behind the degeneration of past. I wish to see if the insane too long to leave the deathly,
wallowing hark-lure-strokes of the woods. There is more to the heaviness in the frail
borders of one’s vision.

4. *
the present attempts to rein the future
*
the things I cannot not have will always entice me
*
memories burn to reveal the sorcery
*
in the evening, a flash drawn from last night

5. March 27, 2020 ∆ 18:45
The room upon which the morning shines is in ruins. Nobody entered the inner sanctum,
and I never intend to leave. I meld, against will, deprived of anonymity. The weathered
rocks are the seal of human embrace; a burden lifted by many. Scrapes torn off to exhibit
the rot wrench on the lampblack, combing death’s fear.

6. *
an intruder never intends to leave the shadows
*
a black swear blackened by its excess
*
who is to say when the tense moment is satiated?!
*
enough paranoia to scale a mountain

7. April 1, 2020 ∆ 16:40
Have you ever meant to spend the night to retrieve a memory? I did, and only then did I
discover the blackness set in me. The ravines are where my wishes come alive, as I know
and crave. In the dark, a saucer-ful of secrets, the long-lost laughter, haunts me, and I come
across the awful dreads. I succumb to the veiled evening while drawing the pale moon out
of the sky, wondering if I saw the satyr today though I hasten to lie.

8. *
memories scatter like sun-feast in a bower
*
bipolar breaths racing towards heaven
*
the rage of an eagle as she descends, striking
*
Moon calls. tides to tame.

9. April 3, 2020 ∆ 08:15
Slowly, I melt with the chaos, dreamlike — ever-glazed, sunken-dusk, shallow, and
shrunken. Pressed against the wall, tired, I waste hours over the angst — a fire that
swallows me. They burn the bridges between the nerves, ogling the ‘lesser me’ too many
times. Blindly struck with my senses' many-ends, the origins and the patchwork silence
cave in.

10. *
weeks run diagonal to seize a memory
*
the limbo — undone by the deception
*
rumors of the intrigue between the harlot and a charlatan
*
tears of the love-torn fill the throat

11. April 7, 2020 ∆ 20:55
I rush past the doors that bear no sign of my exile and I undergo the dreams of a
polychromatic night. I feel no weight upon my shadow. Possibilities vanish, a door opens —
an ignorant mind struggling with the charm of the Dark. Denial is ingrained in the mind’s
depth — a reminder to reveal in the memory, long-drawn, waste-like.

12. *
square feet — the mute sky dances
*
the jester swims, tranquil, in the ocean of silence
*
the moons of Jupiter seize the imagination
*
teardrops from the Milk-Moon shape a rose

13. April 14, 2020 ∆ 16:45
I have spoken to the people I adore. I take no name, so no memory is defiled in my dreams.
The splintered hope remains, and upon the stay, embittered, I face the matters of neglect.
Did I push enough to witness the excess? I leave the sleuth-past to withdraw into the mist-
dreams. Do I need to rage through the ‘cryptic vault of no means?’ The spirits cajole in the
cold. In the time where the past appears ravaged, I find myself revering false directions,
never to redefine the inexistence.

14. *
the night-sky pivots the day
*
ecstasy rages against the agony of dreams
*
stranger times ring echo-like in the silence

15. April 22, 2020 ∆ 21:20
Tomorrow, I will set ablaze the wretched silence. For months, I have spoken to no one. The
anxiousness has left a stub upon my imagination. I wander in my loneliness, aloof. It swears
to drain me, trading off almost any sense. Whatever left is stale and kindles me to bury my
origins before I can obtain any meaning. This difficulty approaching an abatement — ‘the
crux to impale’ - is a worry. Not to indulge in the loathsome, howsoever charmed with
intrigue, I call to quiet my mind. The answering voice is profane, and I traverse the evening
with it.

16. *
windward, the ocean swallows the teardrops of sky
*
the electric hum from a hungover sleep
*
in a voice, the spear of memories

17. May 3, 2020 ∆ 00:15
Often, I wait upon the night to indulge in my mind’s apprehensions. I sense spite
throughout my ponderings. I have nothing left to squeeze out of my memories. On and
again are the miscarriages of dreams, and though I seek not, bafflement takes over. I lead
my day through the ‘many-mind, kill-caverns.’ Nerves scattered in the brain — benign, yet
exerting a slow unraveling — ever-present as an agony.

18. *
a bargain to get away from the past
*
the Risqué forgets to measure itself
*
when the blue star beholds, I blink twice… to seek no more

19. May 5, 2020 ∆ 01:25
I veer towards an oppressing monotony, defiling abundance. The forgetfulness is a woe.
Into the night, I head to where I am a crackle of an animated reality. I try to hide, to deny
my bones from being chastised. I do not seek the disquiet in the gathering of ghosts. But
these metal-tinged experiences of bile rush through me — always a loss of hope.

20. *
no one gifts better than the autumn that must
*
doubt ruins the silhouette of silence
*
not a word escapes to shape my scars

21. May 10, 2020 ∆ 14:25
In a scramble, I feel abandoned, at a loss to draw myself away from the shelter of ever-
years. My problem is rooted in the infancy of notion that the devious are dull in their
drunkenness. Mist-like, night’s comatose malice hovers over me. The impressions — an
apogee around a memory — blame me for their lies.

22. *
a mourning tongue’s silence
*
the night watches every minute pass
*
suddenly, I am a stranger, and then I need nothing else

23. Jade Forest

24. A stage is lit, and the boredom vanishes, set aflame. The deranged are out of senses, and the
gloom forges the future. This light that ends-not, wishes to burn away the inexistence,
deafening; then sets to straighten the fortune, a much-needed resolution. We come across
our secrets but never to hold on forever. The gaping cuts lay bare, undignified. There must
be some afore-thought whispers which latch upon the nakedness of skin.
As we must ensure in the wake of the night, there is a time to praise the grandiosity. We fly
upon our spirits. The dance wades away the misadventure. A melted pot of ideas is a
person’s never-thoughts — alight in their misgiving. The epiphany burns the marrow to
churn out the ghouls that denied life.
Not much can exist in the decay, except for the melancholy itself. Behold! The night wishes
away the jeopardy as one may hope for the vagrant to return.

25. June 28, 2018 ∆ 23:45
A friend wishes to drive my madness at par with some infinite, chases with halos suited to
laughter. I sometimes accept blindfolded faith as a renewal of the primitive. However, I can
exclaim at the misery of life even at its brightest. My memories whirl with grim hints. A fool
like me must inhabit ruined stars.

26. *
yellow day
chases the purple sky —
a spurt of stars
*
a sky-lit drawl
beckoning at the Moon —
a silver gaze
*
every day
I wake up with new images
of my past
*
Vapors
at my mind’s disposal
appear too often

27. *
gaps in my memory —
I enter the night
in a shaman’s cottage
*
in the lapse of time,
careless whispers —
watching as a crow might
*
beaming in silence —
a faint voice
from across the street
*
drawn to fire
moth-like, each circle
an end

28. June 30, 2018 ∆ 03:45
Memories from past deaden the nerves. To continue to live the same is a fool’s paradise. I
believe in crushing the labyrinthine square. The night’s end might be the final call to leave. I
walk away from the misery. I chose the flames and figments of the imagination to end the
satire. I never detail my ignorance as such when I tell the truth, and in the sapphire
gardens, I roll away choking, laughing at my choices.

29. *
twice the lightning struck
to banish
the poison of life
*
an older man at the brothel…
a moonlit night —
lights suddenly die
*
a magenta bird
of yesteryear’s dreams
paces in the garden
*
Though meaning
is magnetic
the sky is electric

30. *
women
with their silver words
quench dry throats
*
the vortex of memories
is loud with scandals
from the other nights
*
liquor store —
a pause
at the sight of a kingfisher
*
has the sun has left you?
the evening calls
it is autumn

31. July 05, 2018 ∆ 02:00
The night swims with an aura, magnetic. I chastise my pain away. In comes a train of
thoughts, the lies in a recurrence. The darkness might as well leave me with my impatience.
The hard-lived bard lives to hold a sword shining in the everglades of monsoon. I talk again
with the blood-hound past. The nape of my neck burns while recollecting the memories.
This madman has found the jester upon whose wings fly the reckless congregation of the
night.

32. *
night burns
and my memory splits
in rage
*
Moon’s beaming gaze
is a spectacle…
etching silence
*
nothing is as unreal
as the moon’s wanderings
in the night

33. *
the bold need
to brave
the lament of their kind
*
I dream
what I ought to have forgotten —
time’s intrigue
*
regret at the crossroads
of a dream —
thunderstruck

34. July 09, 2018 ∆ 22:30
The day I looked upon the possibilities, I was barely awake, and the night was dense and
dark, inexistent. Tonight, I field upon the light to dream again. So calm is the conversation, I
feel restless taking a bow of silence. The satyr is asleep, and we risk the dreams that are
ever-born. To have fled my end and the rest is another ghost’s memory. I settle on the
many-thoughts. This night may not just be any.

35. *
in the glimpse
of hills and clouds —
poet’s breath
*
the twilight sun —
yellow day
drags itself to an end
*
make the wish.
wish upon it that it was
a falling star.

36. *
paint the mirror
…beyond the senses…
wisest silver
*
forget the arrest…
I made away with an alibi
and a kiss
*
tricks that escape
the sorcerer’s robe —
mustard words
*
no parallel
in the way an overcast sky
closes the day