Television on Mute.

The swirling of air, the fastness of breath, the sound of crying, the shadow of talking, the whisper of love, sight of syllable, touch of sense, loading of the gun, the burning desire, wretched anger, soft pain, revenge in the eyes, Power of the speech, the chirping of the birds, kiss of the ocean with the sun, ringing of the phone, expressing hate, snatching peace, colliding matter, honking of the train, friction of the wheel, scream of the mute, silence of the sound, rumbling of the breeze, strum of the strings, eclipse of the sun, essence of the kiss, communicating by symbols, strength in numbers, cold in winters, stillness in movement, reflex in the action, weakness of the cemetry, frightening background's, emotional attachments, respite from thrist, pleading for life, cracking of the dawn, chirping of the birds, snow from the black and white, fading memories with no stress, pinching-pink on the face, alliterating altars for the sane, mortal perils for the fit, shreik of death, hiss of alertness, thrill of madness, decrypting the script, spreading the myth, senselessness of commercials, random image changes, confessing the done, stringing the scattered, point of arguement and transition of time.

Television on mute, aint it funny,
How would you express love,
How would you wana hate
How may have the clouds rumbled,
What may caused all the pain,
The stiffness in the mobile,
Longness in the short,
How could we refer to the cold of winter,
Suffer in the chemical chambers of the Discovery Channel,
Sang aloud with Lennon,
May be we might have not noticed the televison at all.

Simulating Death

As the stillness of the moment faints with the breath of the living, the light on the way darkens by the second, where memories linger around through the way into the journey. Still holding back, moments, memories, messages, minds, miracles, mosh-pits, maniacal musings, methods and meanings which might have triggered the reason to stay, to breathe, to shed that occasional tear that fell to the indifferent floor, to sit still in the winter sensing every inch of broken skin that ran to the heels.

Stripped of all feelings, devoid of thoughts, hollow with light, growing weaker as the light dims to the shadows, scared to look back, hiding in the flame of the truth, covering the face of the lie, with a bitter-sweet face to end the misery of the time, Soon remembering, the deeds of the unholy, sinning the right, shedding the true, to wearing the facade to cut the thoughts of confusion that crept through the barriers of time and space to intrude poison into the logical.

Still asleep, refusing to read whats written, strolling through the labrynith to hide from the dreaded, wishing for time, when all we have is emptiness, simulating the touch, wondering how it felt, when she gave the rose and you felt the thorn, simulating the breath, slowing with the delay and refusing to live, simulating the pain, when the glass cut through your hand wishing it felt worse that what it had been defined to do, simulating the moment of lost hope, sweating through the brows to find the way from the unbelieved asylum, simulating the light, as it warmed the senses slowly, with the patience of a blooming lotus, simulating the end, wishing it had come, in accordance to what had been thought and what had been thought as right.

Night Driving

The echo of silence fades as the day breaks into the perpetual night, darkness creeps into the shadows and vision blurrs into the distance, The lane empty with the voidness of a long-day's memory wounded by the unimagined. Slipping into the veil of an automobile, churning the levers, cams and gears to life, bringing the monster back to life and wishing for everything u want, a perfect place, a way to look for, a direction unbound by time and pain, the smell of the tiredness on the way, the remains of the once-lingered fragrance of her and the night.

As the light, slowly kills the night and moves ahead with the will of the master, the rear leaves behind a shade of red, coughing up the unwanted and kissing the air around, The chill cuts through the thought, hoping to stop getting ravaged by the untimely and the un-welcome, shifting the mehanised gear to propel the thought into action and making way to the unknown. Sleep is bitten by the dream of the reality , actions by the will of the mind, a thirst to speed down the way into the emptiness existing along the way, where the world might not be bound by relationships, promises, fears and redundant thoughts.

Navigating the lady into the ocean of the endless distance, the thoughts of haunting life threating to overpower the alter-ego ruling the senses at the moment, brings back the state of nirvana to the dust, forcing it to crash into the other broken dreams scattered apart by the illusion called life.

Percepting Life

I didnt try and understand it, it just came my way, didnt even opt for it, just got noticed, a wave in the ocean, where every drop is unknown to the other, a particle of dust on a busy street, shifting places by someone else's will.

So what have i all got at the end of the day, tears for myself or pity for the pie, Who knows, today here, with a flickering image of humanity and tomorrow, in a world of absurdity, fully complicated, this concept of life, made by none, perceived my many, controlled by wish and executed by desire.

Just a game with time, clickin into the infinity, will never know, when the clock stops ticking, will never know why the clock stopped ticking, been here, done what ?, been there, seen what ?, I dont see things the way they are, dont believe them the way they are told about.

See them right through their heart, perceive them the way i want, free them all to the world to care, imagine, to stare and wish. Its such a beautiful life. Neither me made it, nor you, still we accept it, dont want to mend it, leave it untouched and unharmed, wandering through the mazes of darkness to find the light, ignorant of it being left right behind.

So ultimately its a circle, who cares, neighter me, nor you, read this and think, maybe abuse, maybe comment, maybe hack, maybe die, maybe live, how does it all matter, Honestly, it does not.