. . .
Honestly, I want to do something for humanity and make a difference. The problem is that I am helplessly, hopelessly, irrevocably lazy.
Of Filth and Wretchedness
One stroke and a paroxysm worst than madness If not madness would have been better- Of the hateful days curling and stretching into a swoon, I say madness would have been better. Death- even better Natural occasion clad in mystery And why should one be afraid? It's the ultimate hangman of misery. But this abomination is a disease Incessantly spreading with vile and greedy claws And madness and death would have been better Than to drown in foul waters of Eros. What sort of devilry has planted this seed of corruption? Of flesh unyielding to all sorts of self- possession And of that shrill sound of imaginary bells All die down to metaphysical elation. Obscene images float into the realm of thoughts Excite one's twitching and wimpish heart For a promise of dear beloved Heaven- Fraud! Heaven made of fiddles and swindles. Of the gradual fictitious morphine and the abhorrent hedonism Of the silent screams and the rush of blood Of the dilation of the eyes and the...
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