A Hysterical memorandum to my futurist mind ( supposedly which am not )



I’m an inexperienced wack of shit, confused and terrible, like literally just don’t have any control over my own life, decisions aren’t mine and I’m not that kind, lazy or am I depressed, or maybe not cause everyone say that am okay, perfectly fine piece of crap, am fine and I know am fine, you people don’t need to tell me, I don’t know where I belong, belong in the sense of humourous feeling that you are a part of your own life, like the life-life, like life of life, like you have a life, to make, or to create, or you are ought to be making one for yourself, so that they won’t make a joke out of you, like you might have thought what-what crap does mean ‘sense of humourous feeling’, you might have thought am bullshitting-ing, yeah! Right, and I know right?

I’m feeling like going out on a date, alone, have about eight to ten cups of coffee, alone at the café, or just climb a tree and sit there whole day staring at the sky and bird-watching, or maybe go by a lakeside, moreover do nothing, just sit and without contemplating whether I………..About nothing, why should I supposedly think of anything, if nobody cared, if nobody bothered, or expected something from you, I know currently everything I say here is mostly just crap, negativity, or just showing off my frustrated inner tendency to ratiocinate my lonesomeness, oh no! I wasn’t intended to do say that! Lol, I took the crap out of me,

Things have to be figured out, I might be forced to make decisions, I will be, even you and you and you, each one of you will go through this, I don’t know what am talking about, how will you know for god’s sake, and thereby god’s name (nobody knows) I have a question for you, or anybody can answer,…. what is my question?

I’m too inexperienced to talk about life, even though am just three years off of from quarter of a decade, mine has been reckoned to with some people, you are actually bound to so many people, not to offend anybody, that’s the truth, and also I have wrecked myself cause I couldn’t act back to my bully boys, whatever now I have 25k followers on Ello, bro!…. Wait, who the hell are these people? Meh! Nevertheless I’m still a loner, intended to be alone, though you have people to talk to ( over text messaging), what a great way to socialize with your insecurities, fucking ass fake attitude, and the same old graphical emojis to express yourself, the people who built it, who uses it behind the screens and filters are just some bunch of milkshake ducks,

Oh! Sorry, am going to far at par with my personal issues, making it private, overwrought with my own problems, very hysterical unstablity-ty of my emotions, I apologize, like as if I do, I apologize. Fuck you!





A post shared by Eddie Howell ( @art_ed); Source:: Instagram


thoughts tumble and I think of people,

some stays as memories,

some are crazy little-contemplated situations,

she’s and he’s,

stories untold, random backaches,

and my awkward limbs, underfed

gawky boy, who thinks he could dominate

his group of friends, who wants it his way,

everything about him,

self-absorbed, attention deficient,

sucks himself out till life,

and still bad at it,

he doesn’t have any addiction,

except to make empty apologies

and fuck his life upside down,

he’s a genius inside in his own little cage,

and gets everything he needs at his pinfold.


thoughts tumble and I think of people,

nothing is going to leave,

they just stay, and you there,

somewhere in the-priority-list.

she’s and he’s and he’s and ex’s and…

awkward crashing stories,

yes, I’m thoughtless, yes, I was naked,

In the same room as the third person to breath,

little would it be convenient, little would it

be unconventional, if you lust for it.


thoughts tumble and I think of people,

believing that love exists,

I killed it, I did too,

cried and you say you are fine with it,

where do i begin?

despite everything everyone gets their happy ending,

and for once fell the truth off his tongue,

capitalize, but his sort use people like be innocent,

why would it be, it was rude


thoughts tumble and i think of people.

and I’m no genius.

A Sick Boy’s Figment memory


© 2018 Sreejith Jayachandran


13:12pm January 20th, 2017

these stereotypes, am already sad of my consideration- disqualification- you don’t fit into the character- you choose- you want to be,

My starboard side is broken- don’t know where am heading- insecure enough to drown myself-

How many like for the next selfie- I call out the differences over the border disputes-

And am on repeat, a single song- and I dance-off to the weird noises-voices, inside my head-

Clap boy to the rhythm- to the self you see in the mirror without a vocal fold to shout- concern- bedtime stories that

I have never heard are in my dreams, These are my figments of memories these days,

The unconventional side wakes in me- like a sick boy- stands firm on his libs- open-

Make a call and remain connected- the utter darkness you see, when the windows are open- I can’t

Handle your sense of entitlement- I’m spacing out, isolating from my life’s worth-

I ask you for admiration- no criticism- pull me up- stop telling me am fine-

Or take it easy-peasy, I ain’t no mistake, under these differences -I’m still breathing and prepared with

Strategies under the same roof- narcissism-

A disorder inflated by itself, just mingle with these different dispositions- do you like them-

they are my religion- an epitome of character assassinators- iron fist smashing the walls, headlamps they keep flashing- in a loop, This is not me-

I’m an obsession, don’t pucker your face, continue- kill them all- one after the other- a standing ovation to one who claims to burn my memoir,

All these figments, just break them, and take a pause-

drift- travelling back to my memory archive, quiet room stacked up disks of electromagnetic tapes- fidgeting vigorously in shattered pieces- crushing me to my knees, it ain’t pretty-

I know it ain’t pretty anymore, these days of total blindness, I know I have to take it forward-

Am in love with this cliff side beach and these super dried and cracked-up concrete cells, which overlooks the sky and sea over the tree top and I know it’s green and I love the grey in between, the chilling wind and sunny January.

am happy after all these figments of perplexed reminiscence.

these are my faded floaty fragmented feelings for those fine fascinating fetish fantasies.

Texting My Ex

A snapshot of E­gor Kraft’s video titled ‘Beyond The Surface’


texting my ex back again,

It’s a paramount of things to swallow,

It’s a rough chat with two-just-friends,

cause am doing my best, to be pleasable.


the common things just have disappeared,

we are out of our mind, playing quiet with emoticons and words,

I don’t feel the grip, the impeccable phrases and sentences,

the style has changed,

it’s just two people terrified of the things that split them,

expecting them not to have happened.


the downpour was strong, my mistakes were the ones you knew,

ones you always saw,


you never tried to explain yourself, you never spoke a word,

and instead stole mine too.


and you are silent now, away from me,

hiding, all because you feel you are guilty,

like you did something sadly wrong,

being dishonest to me,

something that can’t be said or spoken,


why don’t you try me,

talk to me,

and tell me what it is in reality,

how it felt like to lie to me,

I’ll forgive you for that,

and i promise I’ll love you back again,


you never did listen to my ending words,

‘ I’ll love you back again ‘, you just kept hiding

your fault.


and am not surprised and it’s okay,

somebody does eventually leave you at some point in time,

it was you this time,

being honest and loyal isn’t the trend now.






Photograph by Elise Mesner; Source: Ello

anxiety, swinging swings inside,
sliding the slides, and rooms bit darker now,
walls painted black, my lamp shades broken,
dimmer are my days, light never falls,
we in the faded stories and I’ll never learn how to swim now.

take time to remember my name, you spoke and my tongue
twist like fluid, drooling, melting candles and on the other side of the sea
on top of the cliff, the lighthouse keeps flashing, waving back at the sailors,
and I stood there in the dark, alone in this island, staring at the light,
the rays did give me some hope, an eternal hope, a never-ending thirst to be human.

love people and live like the rest, be like others and am not,
strangers stare and I feel isolated in a big dark space,
why? I ask myself with a swinging mood, agonizingly bedazzled voice of my face,
trying to contempt the condemn the fact of my being is fake,
you don’t owe to tell me what I am and am not.
be sane, he said.

November 11th


 ‘Rain‘ by Ilya Kuvshinov; Source: Deviantart


This was a fine morning,

I woke up, and my brother

told me quick quick quick,

Get ready you gotta go,

Pray, thank and

ask now-something-new to get done, 

What else and why so inward-looking,

Selfish, I knew I was agreeing

that it wasn’t a good idea,

Asking for more, a hysterical laugh,

Someone under my skin really laughed out loud,

Still, why? it was inside me like fluid, the dubiety.

But never was so biased,

I’m a lost boy running around

the reality like a deranged scavenger,

That day was bright,

Bright as those smile of yours, oh darling!

I would sing for you, with you.

Our social day went more than it usually was,

It became pieces of the picture of our memory,

The day, lighter now better and calm,

Rooting to the soothing silent waves in one’s head,

I was happy, and this might be

the only piece I write

like a free-spirited tranquil self,

Those five whys don’t be any more,

But I would explore the cause-and-effect

Because all alone deep-damn-down,

I know it will be back,

But I embrace this moment of total summer,

Blissful and am blushing.

Because I cross the line here for you,

But I still love you,

And your blue jean.