With the advent of flames, traced back to you. The dreams that beget pain and inexplicable tranquility. And I see you standing in dense mist-in a place inaccessible, isolated and every few nights shattering my cozy, oblivious sheaths of escapist solitaire by your resounding echoing laugh, your wicked twitch of eye, your subtle brushing of a random, stray strand of hair and then smiling again, delving me further deeper into the vertigo of nothingness, where I lose my existence and burn and incinerate into cinders that buoyage forth into deep gray skies painted with my sense of loss, in quest of you. WHERE ART THOU? Lost? Oblivious to Love? Now I know why stars burn. Every night, they too lost their beloved-comets who went on their quest leading those stars alone. Shame and guilt over-rides a Comet's mind or heart (if she has any).The reason why the tail of a comet always faces away from the stars.I know you've got nothing to do with whatever is written here, yet so engaging, every single word written traces back its direct or indirect origin to you. And your eyes because they say it best "when you say nothing at all". And your silly cute gestures. And the way you used to turn your head sideways when you see something good. Yes, I'm crazy enough to remember all that 'maybe non-sense' to you. Sometimes I just want to escape, from a pair of brilliant-brownish-black or to be peculiar your hazel eyes (I won't lie this time that they were blue, or azure just to make poetic impact), black as the deepest night hue one would see, hid behind feathery eyelashes, even darker than the eclipse sky. Your eyes would know how brutal they've been-having taken away the sleep from my eyes .And it was Dreams I was talking about. I too had a dream (Matin Luther King anyone?).When battling with you though, finally surrendering I fall into the arms of sleep, I see all my fears confronting me head-on. You know you are like Xanax. Take Xanax. It will ease you pain away for a while.it will do so and make you feel good about you shitty existence if taken in good quantity. You won't suspect a thing. You won't know that you're just a log of teak-wood and Xanax is an elegant woodworm working his way all through you-destroying you in a way you even won't oppose. It has the virtue of making you say- 'Just let go' .So are you. A cuter, million time more alluring, tempting, and a trillion timer more dangerous version of Xanax-because of your virtue of creating the illusion of tranquil ecstasy. Victim (me) feels like he had submerged into an infinite ocean of euphoria after taking Xanax. Somehow he realizes what Xanax is doing to him. Gets himself together and finally finds him drawn inside a hallow vertigo once more.
Eyes closed. Attempts to escape into some parallel world of his where you are still his to love to. Whey he still walks with you, and you shed your inhibitions just be his, forever, and just as the inches between our lips decrease, I experience a vacuum, too strong to resist, stronger than the pull of Black Holes, and bang-I find my arms supporting my body when I sit erect facing the ceiling of my room, beads of sweat trickling down the forehead to mark their way to jaw-bone and then to the blanket. I’m gasping, I’m suffocating, and I’m asphyxiating. This was a DREAM! And I still do not have the strength to call this a nightmare. I’m back to reality. In a world without you. Where I smile, I be with other people, always divided into small fractions of myself, the rest of the divided me thinking about you-Always, Every moment, passing second, waiting for this eternal painful wait to get over and you lurk somewhere-still oblivious to this, smiling with people, faking their interests, there’s a mention of my name and you respond- "What on earth is wrong with him. Don’t talk about him”. I smile and then flashes the moment you held my hand and both of us prayed for the moment to never end. That’s what is wrong with me, I look down and at my hand-still find that your fingers were perfect to fill this empty space between mine!
