Thursday, May 31, 2012

The autonomous Expectations

I can keep turning around; searching and trying and waiting, you know.
But I won’t always keep turning around, you should know.
Call my name. And I shall answer.
Pat on my back. And I will turn.
Silence and coincidences are nobody’s all time’s favorites, you know.
And me calling your name isn’t the only way it works, you should know.

And I’d like being reached out for too, you might not know.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

The reproductive assumptions need a pill

Not only was I trying to reach out for your hand, I happened to be trespassing and exploiting the resources meant for somebody else and because it never seemed enough, I planted myself there. Sprouting up under your skies, alternately black and blue, I now stand deeply rooted, abundantly dispersed.
It all started with a weensy seed of assumption that I mattered. That I should contribute.
The truth as it is now:
I am but, a trespasser.
My forest is but, a cursed illegitimacy.

Deforest me when I am asleep. And remember, the fruits of hope should not know they could have had a chance. You owe me that, at the very least.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

The Short Cut

Withdrawal of my words from your memory could help me deceive myself. I don’t always give in to desperation. But today, interference seems to have more gravity than how I should just be a spectator. If I don’t, I’m just a puppet of principles, fearing which I’d rather barge into the sacred hall of hell and rescue my ball of fire, let it know it could be polymorphous. I’d rather experiment. I’d rather live and learn. I’d rather try, at the very least, to alter the consequences. Than waiting outside the gate. Than watching my words being cross-reacted to form a different race of devil. Than reassembling the ashes after the explosion.

Or you could just give me my words back.

P.S. Assume it’s a straight line.