nightmare

These serpentine dreams of mine

latch onto me,

dragging me down

long after I’ve woken up,

it’s the incubus of epic proportions

reminding me of sins that were

the poison dilutes my blood

and I hallucinate- an extension of nightmares- a contorted scarecrow’s screaming cries

ringing in my ears

the rustling summer wind gives me cotton mouth

sweat drops like a river from my hair to my chin

and then the pounding of the earth

with no time to turn around

all I see from the corner of my eye-

vile wolves with red eyes jumping on me…

-Tanmay

buried alive; logic; reasons

Music and loneliness have a symbiotic relationship. Music doesn’t cut away the loneliness but it sure numbs the pain that arises out of it. I remember in my second semester at univeristy I had my earphones resting on my ears constantly, no matter where I went. In February 2018 I was introduced to Logic’s Under Pressure by a fellow music enthusiast and music producer. I fell in love with Logic instantly. He is revered by a lot of people for his honest take on anxiety and depression, almost as if an older brother is listening to you and your fears. I remember sitting alone for breakfast eating quickly whilst listening to Buried Alive, the memory is etched so clearly that listening to the song again now brings back images from that time and a thump in my body because of the physiological changes that anxiety brought forth were sometimes more pronounced while listening to relatable music. It was mostly a wrenching of the gut- up and down so strong that it would force my hip up if I was on my bed.

There was a dependence that I fostered on certain types of music that helped channel some of my confusion with life into energy to get up and do shit. I owe a lot to the artists whose music I listened to then. The desperation of loneliness demands prompt attachment to anything constant. People couldn’t be there in the way I needed them to be, so an only child was still the only child at steel tables, with two hundred of his peers ten meters away. It was almost necessary, the way my life unfolded then; it made me impervious.

Everything happens for a reason and the reason is made clear after the happening; almost always.

-Tanmay

hard loud music; well of inspiration; meaning

Imagine being a little tired or buzzed out but not willing to sleep. Now put in a heavy rock track (Negative Creep- Nirvana), or hard rap (m.A.A.d city- Kendrick Lamar) in the background. This exercise usually puts me in the center of an empty universe, free, unchained to mold the clay of existence into forms, forms that are understood by at least one another. It’s nothing but a hunt for ‘meaning’, you chase it, I chase it, but especially the insane/genius chase it. The subjectivity of meaning results in a uniqueness. This uniqueness is valuable only to the one who birthed it. Some are lucky though, their meaning becomes popular and we share it and talk about it.

A by product however is dissent. That’s where most problems lie. Meaning becomes truth for the one who beholds it. A campaign for truth might spark up when enough believe in it, and the opposing camp comes bearing torches to burn the others’ truth to the ground.

Most stories emanate from this background.

Thoughts?

-Tanmay