Figments of a Sleeping Imagination

The body lay on the bed.
From the window the moonbeam filtered in like the silver stream. It was peaceful for 15 secs and then one something that looked like the body wanted to get out of the body that laid still.

The transparent look alike moved out from the room and reached another one. There was a wheel that moved in rhythm, and had figments of marijuana in it. The more the object wanted to get hold of the green,the faster the wheel swirled.

And then something happened.
The wheel chased the object, and the object tried saving itself from the defeat,there was no way to stop either one of them. At one point it felt losing track of who was trying to over power whom and in the mayhem, the object reached a brightly lit room, it was so bright that it could blind but the swarms of people inside seemed to have some superpower symbolized by that one roll between their fingers, it was smoky and the smell could kill.
And an overdose of something you love never saves the soul. The object was stupefied, not knowing it was love or something that's a fall out of bitter love.

The object did not move and then it suddenly gasped for breathe and called out for the body that was still peacefully sleeping in reality. The body refused to wake up, unperturbed by the room where the object had reached and was dying under the inability to see or hear. All the object knew was that of a feeling that gnawed something that resembles the heart, the object though was not sure if there was something like that. It closed its eyes and wanted to transcend to a world where it could breathe for death of claustrophobia was not something that it ever imagined.

How true it is when they say whatever we want does not happen all the time. As the object desired a life afterlife, all that it could fathom was the light in the room went dim, soothing and the psychedelic phenomenon clouded the vision. It was nearing impossible to get the feet to move into a direction that could let some fresh air in. But the window in the vision had the light of the day that tantalized like a lover does after a series of passionate love making moments that drives the partner for more, even if the epitome of pleasure has defied all definitions. And probably that is why the lovers reunite for the rest of the night even if the pleasure have been sucked beyond obvious.

The black human like objects transformed themselves into choker blocks and would not let the object move beyond two inches in one direction. The phobia was spreading itself and a tarantula crossed through it everytime the object refused to submit to the smoke that led one into the bottomless desire to crawl and lick decayed blood in search of ecstasy.
There was no path to escape, and it was at that moment the body that slept opened it eyes, dashed out of the room in order to find the object, it was an insane search for now there was a body that rummaged through graphic spaces searching for its soul and the objectified soul knew it was not there anymore. It had travelled to a world where breathing spaces where locked in rooms that did not contain holes that would not let air either in or out.

The body refused to give up, it ran with the determination that it had to save the virgin in the whore house but little did it know the man the soul slept beside when in transcended into the airless realism that it was over,the virginity was lost. But the body remembered waking upto screams of despair and helplessness, but it was late. The soul was lost and like millions microcosms do in search of themselves.
And the moment came and went by, little to the body's knowledge but the soul lay there in with eyes wide shut.

The quest to nail the soul down, probably turned it into ashes which does not rise from the phoenix; like everything else trust,truth,love,friendship,absolutes are all illusions of the body.
The soul lives many lives,in many spaces, and mourns over all thats lost and rejoices much more to all that's waiting to be created. Its stoned, its drunk and passes out but its not for the body to understand.

Words do not serve any sentence
Imagination does, Ideas does and sometimes not being there does.

Hail!!!

The raindrops did not talk to me

The raindrops did not talk to me.....
The rain drenched shimmering road did not look at me
The asymmetrical array of the yellow cabs did not wait for me
They all stood together and I stood in my frame.....alone

From the seventh floor the cityscape was different today,
very different than what it used to be in the last twenty five years
From the seventh floor the sky was different
very different than what it was a few minutes back
As I pan the vision is blurred
But still the vision does not talk to me

I have lost love midst a soul
I have gained love midst nothingness souls
I have been choked but I refuse to breathe,I refuse to set my liberation free
I have been hanged down the reverence shelf,I am shamelessly waiting for none at all

The puzzle is not a puzzle anymore
Its an ocean of confusion
Where my emotions do not converse
My feelings have lost articulation

I am longing for a past I do not remember
The expansion of grief is gnawing the heart
There is a tightness in the throat
I am wondering if I am lost in the loneliness of memories

I am living in a paradise whose owner is dead
I am not sure if this is the right address
Every night is a lonely musing
I do not know from where the mild tears come and where do they go....

And then suddenly I lose all my thought and....
start thinking again....what if?
But my leprechaun is sleeping
I can't wake him up
I will fight with them tomorrow
The raindrops did not talk to me.....

a few Tears of Laughter

One Friday night that was and that will live forever and probably will never happen again. I woke up to all new me. As if the existence was manifested that metamorphosed my senses and redefined my being. I had experienced it once more but the senses were more matured and aesthetic. It lead on to believe in the story of never dying love stories.....and the bliss of sense of belonging. At one level as I celebrate the integration of souls and realism s on the other hand I am also scared to be broken.Somehow I feel liberation in shackles.....