TheArtOf

And the days fo by in this rampant heat of the summer sun as Calcutta bathes in the sweat of innocents. I lie awake with my lightbulb sun hovering around my head all night.. I've started working nights, become a nocturnal predator in my own terms, dissecting and feeding on raw need as and when it arises. I've conveniently segregated myself from those around me, only answering the call of my communication device whenever it displays the name of a person long lost..

I've been having conversations.. With the Dead..Not as per se, but with people who had been lost, or whom I'd distanced myself from for my own sweet needs. We converse about things gone past, and how they COULD have remained the same had life NOT been so cruel and botched up our fairy tale plans. I seek refuge in my loneliness and listen to the volley of words hurled at me. The emotive factor in my brain kick starts and tells me to go ahead and make ends meet.. let's speak, let's converse, share and cuddle if necessary.. Forget all that has happened..Forgive all that has occured. Go ahead and fuck up your life once again, and let's see if we end up in the dry deserts of Ethiopia once again...

Too many options and too many distractions to deter us from our daily diagnoses. How will man ever survive if the gjosts of the past do NOT let go? And then we're told to give up our chemicval afflictions and addictions..

Oh, to be rid of this dipthongonian world.. where everyone recites 2 conflicting versions of the same story at the same time.