I make promises to myself under the blanket, immersing myself in it & once Its off me - everything vanishes.
I often sleep at night, thinking about these action oriented agendas - kept under my pillow or next to my bed, trying to work out a plan to bring them to action the very next morning. Every morning turns out to be one lazy bitch, making me forget about these night stand aspirations. As much as I am willing to learn from my perceived value, more I am willing to experience & take something with literally no value & sell it in the auction format & make magic out of nothing. No wonder, why I have this museum of accumulated nuances circumcised to my very being - amused to thee circus of life, trying hard to be a good ring master every morning, mourning to no good. There is this fluttering in the stomach, the restlessness & the yawning, that I keep on swallowing. I am still trying to tame the thing inside me, that is not afraid to take risks, but seems a little more then apprehensive & reluctant caught in its own infinite subtle nuances.
I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly - Richard Siken
I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. I have been bidding goodbye’s to old & welcoming ordeal-deals new. My most fragile of beliefs have been wrongly misinterpreted & my sealed emotions have been tampered & broken. I’ve stood there damaged for long, while still finding ways to possibly be awaken through & through & get along. Resting for a while - coming out of it & ready to dive, its been a learning experience - a blessing in disguise.
There could be things best or worst, its about choices - not always. You would get to know, once you are done with - either screwing or making it worthy or at least hope that you just might.
"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." - Lao Tzu
The only person with you all your life is you. Your parents die. Things inside you die - illusions, gushes of personality. Only you can sort yourself out. Yourself may not be all you need, but it’s all you’ve got.- Kate Bush to Tim Lott (Record Mirror, 1978)
At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.”- C.S. Lewis
Ahh! Back is the season! Few days passe, It drizzled - no rhyme or reason! dogs hid cozy, birds chirped, nightingales sang. Winters - I tell you', so twisted, right on! Bang! Santa gifted me a woolen diaper, the day I was born. I’ve been told & I’ve accepted ‘Blessed are they that mourn.’
Numbed & cold most of the time, I am one sneak peaked visionary through a pin hole sight - I have been wearing a double pair of socks, piled tops and paralleled placed lowers tucked inside one another - these extra loaded burdened things you called clothes overlapped in heights. I sleep with my head and ears covered at night. Sometimes it gets too warm, & I feel exhausted & itchy so I end up into this partly clothed or a clothe-less fight. Pulling it all up & down in intervals - I just might. I am so glad to be uncovered from this seasonal fright, cheering to this reunion of a delightful unite. In mornings, eventually struggling to find them underneath the blanket or kept aside. For the ones I still manage to get, & the others I don't find, I still rejoice! May there be less of perturbed seasonal overdoing & more of love & light!
I so wish, the nights be less auctioned, & the mornings be less mourned. - Anonymous
