Slaughter

Sent to the slaughter
The mirthless laughter
Fills the abattoir
It’s so cold, Father.

The gasps for breaths
The claws of despair
The bottomless pit fills
It’s so cold, Father.

The pain never dies
The tears never dry
The echoes sound off walls
It’s so cold, Father.

I have gotten used
To the cold and pain
The laughter and the rain
Don’t think you are real
After all, Father.

The sequel of Forrest Gump

Stupid is as I do. Fight stupid. When your mind, your worth is at stake. You fight stupid. You fight the myriad labels and condescending stares and incredulity at the apparent stupidity. You fight stupid.

Let the mind expand and encompass all, let the knowledge swamp the mind and reshape it, it shall be a weapon. A weapon that pierces all, that penetrates the dullness and fog of foolishness and naivete. Let the desert be your homeground and the ice be your support. Philanthropy and benevolence have no place in the pits of survival and condescension.

Let my words be my ammunition. Let the language sound in all its glory. Let me fight stupidity.

The Boat

The desert in watery terms, the boat is where I fight for my dignity, where I fight for my worth. The pain is muffled, the ruckus and cacophony of the heart is drowned, the feelings deadened. All one does is row.

This is the Boat. One rows or dies. This is the Arena on water. And I exalt in the pain and bitterness.

Desert

The desert, that stark landscape that molds the human, steels the heart and freezes the emotions. A place where warriors are made, where every minute is spent to grasp that bit of metal, like the breath one heaves for, the water one thirsts, that is the desert. One claws, one kills, one tramples over every other thing, it is the Darwinistic house.

There is no tomorrow. There is no love. There is only the sand.

I have enough of people lording over me. That is why I have no religion. I am my own master, of my own destiny. I am the Will.

That is why I walk alone.