Another Rant

Or another alcohol induced
moment of clarity

I've identified the cause of my death
it's a small and simple word
'Great'
wanting being it projecting it
Wanting more than anything else
that this would put an end to all the insufficiencies
inadequacies
inequalities dealt out by nature, circumstance or a benign God

It's an opaque word for me
with no dimensions
no depth to analyse, no sides to consider
and unfortunately, despite being opaque
not having a shadow I can locate

Just a deep desire
a desire fuelled by nights such as these
with wine, women, words
expensive wine, rich women, wasted words
Where one wishes to offset
the S-Class with a joke
the Cigar with a quotation
the Armani jacket with a self deprecatory comment

But alas the words only get under my skin
The words
and the lack of reaction
the lack of recognition
the anonymity
the middle-class loneliness in a who's whose kids' Delhi
the belief in literature or art or history
that somehow
that all that one believed in
was not a lie
not hollow
not empty.