“My bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows me whole” — Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Imagine what would have happened if Vincent Van Gogh was not in the mental asylum unbearably in mental pain. Imagine that and suddenly there’s NO “Starry Night” in this world for our eyes and soul to feast upon.
Imagine Roger waters didn’t feel pained looking at his friend Syd Barrett when the latter was down with mental illness. We would have been deprived of the legendary “Wish you were here” from Pink Floyd.
Now imagine, Walt Whitman was not devastated by the news of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. “O Captain! My Captain!” gets obliterated from existence.
Dear reader, do you see it? Pain has always been one of the most promising muses for the creation of exemplary art, regardless of its form. As evident, this collection of poetry is also the one born in pain’s meadow. Let yourself immerse into the journey from birth to death and everything in-between, as the author takes you to a rhapsodic “pain drive”.
In this insane world, aren’t artists the suffers for their sanity? How often than not, we find them alienated from the society for their thoughts and perspective! Here’s a such a pensive poet with his works, and here’s a chance for you to embrace the “porcupine”.