Neutral Updraft:



“She rose

From the cup of life,

Fiery and eloquently armed with more than a smile


She pro-creates destruction

to ensure all worlds do return

whence they came from


To Balance is Her Wrath”

pfffftttttt

Check.
Check my this. Check my that. Check my head. Check my mind. Check if both go along well with each other.
Then check for any physical uneasiness. If there is, reconcile.
Why check.
Why?
What is the point. There is none.
If I get the locus of all points that could be made, it still would be a moot point.
That doesn’t make any sense. Any sense at all.
I heard myself once telling me,Train your dragon!
Yeah like I have a dragon on me all the time who I comfortably shrink to the size of my pocket and carry him around to parade him in front of acquaintances new and old and friends and every one willing to spare some looking time at this fire breathing, chicken eating, kinda ugly, majestic creature who doesn’t exist.
I don’t have any ideas left in my head. There is but exhaustion.
I feel wilted and withered and worn out. Nothing seems important and worth doing anymore. Nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing at all. I say it again, and again. Nothing at all.
Pointless.
Pointless.
Pointless.
If you don’t like yourself, go and change. It’s that easy.
It’s that simple really. All this abusive self talk is shredding away my sense of being.
I need to make borders to breach that nonsense and not give it thought. Funny how you shouldn’t give much thought to your thoughts. Meditate. Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Exhale.
Exhale.
Exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale.
This is one of the best monologues ever.

scarce

in tufts flying
and colliding randomly,
my emotions are the air
passing distant lands
and ignited by familiar sounds.

it makes no sense,
no sense at all
to have given thought
and reason,
to a drifting presence
that makes caricatures,
so-real.

Ouch. Period.

I hit it. I hit the wall of glass ahead of me. I walked right into it. Can you believe that? I walked right into it when I should’nt have done that. The ensuing glares and ‘oohs and aahs’ from the people around me made me hold my throbbing head in my hands. And then I saw it. Red in colour. Blood. Oozing out like it had been waiting to do this all along. It trickled down the sides of my face and into my mouth. It tasted, err, not bad. So I got my handkerchief out and tried dabbing the thing, when a hand on my shoulder nudged me and a calm voice told me to head to the emergency room. I could feel something snap at the back of my head the very instant I walked into the door. And this was not something physical which snapped. It was something more than that. They say, physical pain can be guided into a recess but mental anxiety and frustration were the ones who pulled the strings and took you places you’d rather not go. I experienced that first hand today when I walked into the freaking door. The only thing on my mind after I hit the door was that nagging feeling of embarrassment. It’s not everyday you find people walking into doors and walls and every other edifice around. To add to the misery, I was dripping blood and all that red made me want to slap myself for not being cautious. This is when I likened the flow of my blood to that of a river. They say once a river starts to flow, the only thing that then matters is the destination. I wonder if our human lives can be compared to the flow of the river, and as our lives end eventually without any warning, does the river die too once it meets the ocean/ I mean is it the end? Do things start only to end? Is it in the basic nature of things to reach completion? If everything has to end, why do they begin in the first place? Does anybody have an answer to this question? Will anybody ever have the answer to that question?

come through to me.

many a time we walked through blue ,

few stones we stepped on were new ,

a distant home we built for two ,

dear , why did you do cease to come through ?



raging winds we fought and grew ,

rain and hail we stood them through ,

a beautiful life filtered in residue ,

dear , why did you cease to come through ?



on the shores we sat and drew ,

castles of sand we built anew ,

seagulls soared and waved to us two ,

dear , why did you cease to come through ?



memories of us still linger in dew ,

from first of touch to last rue ,

all the dreams weft to brew ,

dear , why did you cease to come through ?



and...



now, as you're going away to rest ,

i forever will remain grief's guest ,

so ,let me join you in this quest ,

dear , let me tread this path onto you .



and ,shades of colours once bright ,

now are ambient strains of plight ,

so , let me stay under your sight ,

dear, let me be your shadow for true.



and, seasons no longer change vests ,

as our home forever awaits your a-dress ,

so, let me cross this boundary of flesh ,

Dear , let me come through to you ,thence....

After-Rest

i come here to live this time , but

my mind beckons to a distant chime ,

a prisoner of this malign disease ,

when will i come to a new release ?



" i have had enough of myself ,

i am going to rid it. "





i sit and listen in all my might , as

my mind feeds fables from lost nights ,

a passing whim i thought would cease ,

when will i read from a new leaf ?



"i have had enough of myself ,

i am going to rid it."



i smile at the ageing of time , as

my mind basks in the greying lines ,

a life-like thesis in living hands ,

when will i truly cross this crease ?



"i have had enough of myself ,

i am going to rid it."



and ,as i take my last forced breaths ,

a reason i find to end this test , as

a voice in rapture i hear which says ,

a happy journey awaits me , after rest ?

Not Again.

i feel weak and powerless , in this prison that i made for myself.when will its doors open? i dont know.by a conscious choice i make ? but what is conscience ? a once budding flower , now a wilted scene in this frozen time.

# i dont want to stay like this.but i know why this is happening.this vicious cycle , i created.so be it. #

Do i look up now and cry to what i see above ? do i drink from my glass of water ? do i reach out to anything at all ? the insanity of my mind , self imposed by lack of self-esteem , numbs all reactions. Dense is my head- says my conscience.

# i shouldnt be listening to this.I know he is making it all up #

Never-mind.Never-mine. Blind me .