cant think of a title

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/30/2012 7:17:00 PM

'When the volume is slowly tuned down and out, sometimes the song doesn’t fade away as slowly or undergo the sudden break. It rings in your head as clearly as it did as when the volume was at its lowest, clear and pertinent, the words and notes filling up on their own. It plays on and on, you know neither the volume has been shut out or even lowered, it is there. It is a song, playing.  Out and beside yourself,  step out and walk back slowly and slowly keeping your eyes fix(...)'

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hear me, please.

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/25/2012 8:50:00 PM

'I do not blame you. I do not. I cannot. I do not know how you see me, how you’ve seen me, how you could have loved me with what you saw. It troubled me, I could never understand. I still don’t. You, who sat beside me for a year and I could not speak. Call me a coward, I was afraid. I could not speak. I didn’t have enough strength to take a leap and fall head first. I am all that you curse me with and much more, only not a liar, now atleast when I want to speak, please? I am sorry. B(...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/25/2012 4:39:00 PM

'it was necessary to edit the last post to avoid unintended meanings.doesnt appear on the dashboard, I guess.'

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The Importance Of Being Sorry?

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/25/2012 4:32:00 PM

'Denial is but acceptance. Let us not confuse ourselves with words now. It does not matter. This does not. What one has to say maybe does and no matter how ambiguous the expression is, one should not root itself and hold it as something absolute or say, independent of all the things directing or opposing the final meaning that makes itself apparent, at least not when what one is reading somehow matters. I obviously don’t need to state this. One does see the difference between green ((...)'

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The Importance of Being Sorry?

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/25/2012 1:08:00 PM

'Denial is but acceptance. Let us not confuse ourselves with words now. It does not matter. This does not. What one has to say maybe does and no matter how ambiguous the expression is, one should not root itself and hold it as something absolute or say, independent of all the things directing or opposing the final meaning that makes itself apparent, at least not when what one is reading somehow matters. I obviously don’t need to state this. One does see the difference between green ((...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/23/2012 9:42:00 PM

'The dead don’t move. You curse them, beat them, burn them alive but they don’t move.They walk past the streets hoping for god knows what. Shame be to their very existence. when they find what they need, they don’t see it, they evade it for they fear it, they evade it for they are dead, they think theyre dead, theyre dead, theyre so rotting, and stinking and dead so they think they’ve nothing absolutely nothing to offer. Even if they could, which they forever live in denial of, they (...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 4/23/2012 9:31:00 PM

'The dead don’t move. You curse them, beat them, burn them alive but they don’t move.They walk past the streets hoping for god knows what. Shame be to their very existence. when they find what they need, they don’t see it, they evade it for they fear it, they evade it for they are dead, they think theyre dead, theyre dead, theyre so rotting, and stinking and dead so they think they’ve nothing absolutely nothing to offer. Even if they could, which they forever live in denial of, they (...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 3/21/2012 3:33:00 PM

'Constantly searching for the right words, rummaging in the wilderness of thought, mad and delirous, does not change a thing. It is not something that matters, I tell myself. The venom has spread across. The nerves are dying to explode, showing themselves in the wrist and the throat, a shade of dark green. Does the heart desire for it to end. Is the hatred burgeoning, ballooning inside. Eyes have gone red. Spit it out, if you must. The guts are burning, smoke stifling the heart. Red (...)'

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Berenice's Dream

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 3/19/2012 8:18:00 PM

'On weekends, particularly Sunday nights, the city does not roll the usual scenes infront of the eyes. It’s not a distant, dark, underground or say, a removed place I talk about but rather a shade removed from the usual we are accustomed to live in/ with. Take a particular street, for an example, there is a multinational company selling handsets or a software developing firm with a gymnasium and a couple of cafes inside the lot on one side and high residential blocks on the other, a (...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 2/4/2012 10:07:00 PM

'When dreams show a rather agreeable reality, you do not know whether you’re awake or not. So they’re not really dreams or perhaps, they are. You’d never know. It is interesting. The way you’d never know what immortality tastes like for you cannot grow inside the skin of a frog. No, you can never. And if you do, it won’t be you so it wouldn’t really matter. You can surely live through a gossamer version of it, watch it crumble and perish in totality but can never watch it wither. It (...)'

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Para que tú me oigas

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 1/15/2012 8:01:00 PM

'Porque esta la primera cosa he leídoHoy dia montar caballo.!Suerte, suerte!!mi culo caballo!Ha. Haha'

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The Queen's Son

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 1/14/2012 5:16:00 PM

'The day is always too short. It’s auburn hair - flowing wide and long, growing, floating - blinds you to dream with eyes open until it turns its head away; until you drown.Walk away. Walk over the yellow leaves, scattered, staring from the brown encrusted soil below. Faces veiled will reveal themselves. Twigs stoop low, scratching the knees. The lamps outside the fourteen ash- coloured pillars of the house burst. Bright, yellow shards of light fly past like bronze swords hurled, swi(...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 1/2/2012 12:11:00 PM

'The rays of the afternoon sun, strike on the endless metallic tracks, growing brighter and brighter, reaching far and wide. there is no end. Born there, erect and wide consuming the world, ahead of the dry, dull brown skin, a metallic white screen consumes all the desires, hopes, dreams and some of the nightmares. Giving way to the penultimate abandon. If only. Growing brighter and brighter  as the night without its darkness befalls, forming a mirror, reflecting un unrecognizab(...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/26/2011 11:01:00 PM

'Last night, a deep heavy fog weighted down. Not a streak of light passing through. None reflected. An opaque greyness clouded the vision. It didn’t matter where the Eyes turned.Toes clawed the marble. Desperate, clutching onto the beliefs sunken. Onto self’s gravity. Fingers stretched benumbed,sprawled out long and stiff to force the blood through.The cold seeped through the Silence echoed evenly in huge spirals, persistant. Suddenly, a rush of warm dense air rushed from the pit, ru(...)'

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bastard.

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/20/2011 3:08:00 PM

'You carry the kid on your back, his arms tied around your shoulders, his bulky head dead on your neck, as you stoop to collect the mines Brother deactivates. He’s a cripple; you’ve got to be his hands. At nights in dark rooms, sometimes while sleeping, he utters things which come true and kill a newborn, heal the sick and devastate a whole village. You look at him when he’s asleep, waiting, hoping to hear about good things. The kid puts an arm around your waist but you turn around. (...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/17/2011 11:51:00 AM

'The city is a young boy standing in the middle of a road stretching far and wide joining the flyovers, highways and gardens to the praries, mountains, oceans and reaching beyond. A station lies eastward at a distance, the lines passing from behind. Every hour or so, a goods train mostly bearing wood for the paper and coal for the fire from the nearby villages and towns passes by, the engine hissing, slowed down to let a metallic screech pierce the evening air, alongwith the regressi(...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/13/2011 3:32:00 PM

'And I wish I was one of those forever fucking lower animals, not struggling with the whys, content with the hows, the brain not yielding to the fucking crippling brutality of the ceaselessly raped, continually swelling and contrived bubble of ‘wisdom’, the bloodied jigsaw puzzles, not muddling and scratching our puny brains over what is right and wrong, dumb and not,  wrong wrong fucking wrong and right, laughing and screaming at the tragedies and comedies, bravery and meekness(...)'

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Cease, cows, Life is short

Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/8/2011 11:39:00 AM

'Stop right there. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Forget about it. Do not worry about what I am going to say. It doesn’t matter, stop. Give that little, clustered beehive enclosed within the four walls of your head some rest. It needs to rest. Don’t you think? Get rid of your dreams. They stink like the stale, yellowed leftover eggs from the plate you’ve forgotten to wash for days. Forget about the plate. Step on that pedal and shove it down inside the gaping mouth of the bin. Don’(...)'

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 12/8/2011 8:59:00 AM

'It’s not the fog. It’s the smoke. The sun, forgotten, pale as the moon, has been shoved behind the light blue of the skies, their vastness shrinked. Forests are plundered, burnt. Bricks hurled. Oceans dried up.The canvas, eternally smudged. '

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Author : Aman      Blog : The Dead Man Wore Pyjamas.      Date : 11/29/2011 6:10:00 PM

'It all starts with a lie, a pretension of the mind that sees the world writing and moaning the same things over and over again, and begins to think and write itself, often indulging in games, like the one in which it sticks endless scrolls of paper to the skin of its frame or wraps it up to the last inch with its words, smirking to itself and waiting for the magician to come and examine the corpse before which its shadow stealthily slithers out from the back and places itself in a c(...)'

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