Asylum Blues

Light enters not, growls exit not, there is an eery emancipation midst all this commotion. And that is all in my head, oh yes yours to. For we are all stuck here; in the pit. The end of the world if it could be said. There is only dark demise written all across the walls that enslave us.

The asylum has a particular smell, and I cannot describe it even if I tried - there is the remorse which always adds to these sensory illusions. All of our remorse, that why it had to go down like this. Without a single warning to retreat.

Another one is brought in, the blanket black straitcoat. He hasn't done anything we are all sure, or are we expecting him to join our silent tortured ranks? We cannot be sure. But we welcome him to this world of ours nonetheless, with a temporary broken smile pasted on our faces - we explain the scene around.

This is not plain fiction - it is clear sight. I wonder on dark dreamy nights locked in my cell (of body and mind), where I shall escape to next - to forgive and possibly forget this lasting pain.

Suffering which is not reckoned, has not been seen clearly, the asylum always gives you time to recuperate, to think and be towards everything as you clearly choose. But what if one is not interested, one is majestic in his or her own lunatic right. Then perhaps the asylum would seem as home.

I have habituated myself to walking alone, for it breaks the illusion at times. The monotonous corridors bringing pain and grief to all, The dingy claims of the guards who believe its their god given duty to protect us, from ourselves. I cannot stand this. Yet there is nothing the asylum ever forgets. The suffering of our inferior selves - this need never exist.

Walking alone, I wonder my friends - are you too all not walking alone. With the illusion of someone loving you - caring and protecting you? have you forgotten the vast nothing you are into. Every second of your so called conscious lives? This is nothing but institution - much like this asylum which you have got convinced to get used to, to love even. As some here may love this god damned asylum itself. Is this not the sure sign of lunacy?
Oh Have I got ahead of myself, have you not understood; this dark abyss that you and I are a part of till we breathe our last, this entirety so unsure yet never lacking to manifest and interrupt your plans and mine. And then the fact that you are tied to yourselves for your lives and you seem to get used to that as well - without an inkling of needing change - instead we all love abhorring any change to our perfect fucking peeving selves.

Yes, I am convinced, and you may call me mad (why not, I too may indeed respond in kind), the inability for us to actually take the joke which so many wicked have propounded - to give us the kind mercy of forgetting who we are and why we have taken a supposed conscious birth - reason if any? None then acceptance and joy. Why not we revel in the true nature that is I.

Yet we love our time by ourselves, walking alone - with the illusion of life unfolding in front of us and we having some form of explanation for all the things which are. We are blind and indeed mad  - yes you I and cosmos. It is time, about time that we all come unshackled. Breaking into a violent frenzy of a dance. Dissolving this Now.

We may or then, we may choose to continue to soothe ourselves - we arent fools afterall, we may indeed at the back of our head know - that the world inside the comfort of walls called an asylum is still far better than the sheer power of dark energy manifesting and dissolving itself without caring one single bit.

Peace