Arc Asylum

By Prateek Joshi

Can deep contemplation give rise to macabre visions? What happens to the attempts of resolving a deranged mind? Some men go through spirals of Decadence, spending years in the pursuit of the authentic, becoming obscure and absurd, finally losing the difference between real and unreal.

Exhausted with reasoning and self-reflection, with a subsequent lack of self-control breeds fear, permeating the surroundings. The road to Freedom, or so the narrator believed in until his own experiences begin to unhinge him.

The Journal of a man, alienated and occasionally delusional, trying to articulate a method to overcome the ephemeral only to severe ties with the present. Will he understand the deeper meaning of existence after being in limbo, wasting with his degenerating memories and desires?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9789354384370

Prateek Joshi

Prateek Joshi is a medical graduate from the University College of Medical Sciences, New Delhi. He moves between words and their impractical aspects only to find himself stranded, placid only when poetry transfigures peculiarities between the pauses of breath.A spade is a spade only when you are playing clear-headed. A dash into the obscure favors him, pushing for more into life, apparent and unmistakable.His debut book was 'Anatomy of a Self-Indulgent Moongazer'. Besides losing hours to reading books and writing poems, time given to his mushroom farm is spent well.

Book preview

PREFACE —

ECHOES OFF A TROPICAL BANDIT

I got the name ‘alibi albino’ when Zombie plugs swore upon me.

Have you listened to the Poet’s news?

The merry-go-round I used to visit is off the dais now.

No one seems scrambled in their heads.

There is a kindergarten I often visit.

The clowns are all drunk.

All is not lost; what’s left is a bet.

If you look into a Poet’s stomach, there are cartons of panic.

Feathers of a Fool are picked at night.

Red, Blue, and Black is the rapture of my dreams.

The Anchor to my mind is a rush.

TURQUOISE

DILEMMA

March 23, 2020 ∆ 20:00

The room’s air ails with burnt yearnings and is sworn upon by the ghastly. On this twilight, I raise a concern. A bloated intrigue moves ahead of me. I stand either abstracted or blurred. I angst upon the questions. Here, the dread is born while sleep is broken. I leave behind the degeneration of past. I wish to see if the insane too long to leave the deathly, wallowing hark-lure-strokes of the woods. There is more to the heaviness in the frail borders of one’s