Ronie Dinosaur

Neither the spark of an eye, nor the calm of a heartbeat, I am that salao who is nothing more than a lost man on the street. Neither anyone’s friend am I, nor an enemy at anyone’s level, Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 29 - A Blank Heart, Still My heart remained untouched- whatever was written vanished with those who wrote it. I carried the blame, even questioned the garden itself. No rescue arrived, only the duty to stay true to what I am. I belong to no corner of this world- Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 22 - Beauty This is not Instagram poetry. It is not workshop poetry. It is closer to existential field notes- written by someone counting steps, not applause. Ronie Dinosaur walking Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur Chapter 18 – Lollipop I feel it in my bones: the universe is staring. Not with love, not even with hate- just cold, deliberate silence Read more from here...

Ronie Dinosaur - Chapter 15: Metacognition My mind is trying to solve my own mind and still can’t name the crime- what for, what’s the big deal. I have walked the entire distance from blank confusion Read more from here...

In a world where my heart keeps thirsting for love, how the hell am I supposed to understand it? When I go looking for beauty, all I really want is one woman to love me. When I hunt truth, all I really want is to be famous for this grief. When I ask, “Who am I?”, I swell into Ronie Dinosaur-just so I have something to fight with. And still I keep searching for the one mirror Read more from here...

This is something beyond mere bad intentions-people with very little ability have those, not me. The reason I don’t have a girlfriend until today is because I’m too horny. I have a lot of lust, and it isn’t an issue of intent; it’s part of my character that I feel it in excess. It steals the show, taking the spotlight away from moving step by step toward mutual understanding and affection. I end up giving the wrong message by mistake. And my low emotional intelligence makes it seem like lust is the only way I know how to approach a girl. I don’t live by the clock. Sometimes I sleep at eight and wake up at midnight in the middle of winter, and I have no desire to sleep again. That’s normal for me. From my study years to my athletic days to the period of alcoholism, I never cared about a watch. For me, dark is light and light is dark; neither is special. I’m lonely during the day just as much as I am at night. That “love at first sight”-I never saw the girl beyond her eyes, let alone anything below the belt. I was afraid that even looking at her would make her dirty. With the girl in college, I restrained myself whenever she became affectionate because I was scared she would misunderstand me. Maybe that’s why I could never say what I actually felt, and I lost her-and many others later. When I say nobody ever wanted me, I mean I wasn’t good-looking enough for anyone to choose me on that basis alone. A man desires women. That is biological and natural. It is not a flaw in my character, but I treated it as one. In India, women portray themselves as devas-untouched by desire-yet the same woman at night expects a man to ravage her. At my age, I didn’t know the second half of that psychology. I only knew the devi part. If I told a girl that I desired her, it would weaken my claim of being with her. Besides, I don’t think the two girls who tried to hit on me did it successfully, because they only tried to touch me-by accident or by intent, sometimes even forcefully. The only real solution is following my own decisions and desires instead of being manipulated by someone else’s. My questions were unclear; I wasn’t asking the right things. I was beating around the bush, trying to act naïve the way they did. No matter how affectionate I am inside, I have no problem calling myself a randa, a man of lust. I’m stating facts and looking for answers. I don’t chase. One negative reply and you’ll never see my face again. And those girls must have thought at some point over tea: “This motherfucker didn’t persist or insist. We might have even said okay.” Read more from here...

Better than a life spanning a hundred years are the days of love-so long as you know it is love. What if I became a philosopher and knew everything? What if I gained the life I never had-still nothing. What if I fucked a thousand women-still nothing. But if I had the life I wanted, while knowing what I already had? Read more from here...

A man who never distinguished between dolls and a sold one. A woman showed me why a sold one is called a whore- then pointed a finger at me. Why would she call someone like me? That's why people buy and light firecrackers by their own hand. Desire is a bubble Read more from here...

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