Appeal

It glittered around half past ten. Still cold , numb fingers needed some warmth-delicate and less promising. Images keep coming, sans source, just cluttering the brain, making it more lonesome than usual. Tried to interpret them, and in that effort extrapolated it to some scattered day in future. Unusually colored it was, I could hear a faint laughter, could see an unvanquished smile, the world was slowly brightening up. A world I seemed to have less knowledge of. A little speck of dust struck my eyes, floated in the humor, as if it was its home. And it swum, oblivious of its terminal fate. The eye became more viscous, and visions fainter. It felt like pain, could have only guessed it, being totally unaware of what pain is. Perhaps just a word ,coined to address a class of desperation poets feel in their parallel universe. Well, mine seemed more real, and less cosmic. Didn't want to redeem myself of that unnamed feeling, and its humble intercourse. Without any semblance of subordination the matrix engulfed the life that was still running. The warmth imploded in my veins, the hand felt a soft touch, perhaps more enigmatic than the decadent vision....

To be continued

2 comments:

Clairvoyant Virus said...

a class of desperation poets feel in their parallel universe. Well, mine seemed more real, and less cosmic.

~ brings out what u must be thinking..and yes.. i can imagine it too..

Shiladitya said...

when i started writing this i was thinking something else...it turned out to be then some hostility against my ownself, and a brutal soliloquy against my own parallel universe