My hair is getting quite a rebel against the mad wind on the driveway.
For someday words are getting vanished from my throat and even from my thoughts.
My poems are at the bottleneck of this deceptive creation and entertainment.
I want my mind to wander over the possibilities and meek socialization.
Freedom, absolute freedom.
I want this draining battle between my perception and my soul to over soon.
Sitting three foot down from the farthest corner of my room or my world I want my eternity back.
Take these shits from me and let me drink and smoke and jingle words and drink and smoke again.
I want my death through the galaxy of enchanting realizations.
Call me by names, leave me with ultimate disgust but don’t step on my inspiration.
Some more breathing air, perhaps a rainbow over my clouds,
Yes atlast, a raindrop on my ever sucking disturbing paranoia.
I leave you with that for today, I have gained some days worth of booze and alphabets.
Ah! Soundless sleep is coming.