Saturday, February 5, 2011


With fresh dreams of one futile future,
the eye-balls raced beneath the sleeping lids;
the legs spread in a sprint,
across the world without a worry;
the arms clutched stuffed linen,
in one hold without a hurry.

Peace came knocking, and woke me up;
Whispered to my ears, it's time to be up.
I frowned and groaned,
Let me see some more, I said.
"Too much, already",
Exactly, as I dreaded.

And thus my eyes wrenched open,
welcomed the colourful darkness.
Sounds of the system serve a reminder of the real.
The debated desires in deconstruction, on;
a road with a memory and a story.
All washed away in the riot of lights,
My nights feel sorry.

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