The night just seems so lull, a very few little stars and the presence of the facading moon seems so absent in the dark sky. A wet pillow, the slithered bed sheet, the empty lines and a cold inked fountain pen resembles my mood tonight.
A few deep thoughts and some grossly unaltered emotions disturb the unaltered depth of my unconquered heart.
The shallow breeze shivers my uncovered skin and arouses the dubious intentions of serenading my existence. The tears are so dry, that they even scorch the eyelids, when it feels numb inside.
As Jim Morrison once said, "Death is a good disguise, for late at night..." I wonder is it really late enough to give up ? My coffee's cold, it antagonises my addiction, stimulates an unwanted desire to resist this night. I want to give up to the pulverazing sea shores, pouring gaze of rain, the opaque fog of cloud, the unclustered grains of sand and the sluggish muddy, shadow of life.
I sit down my window, my cigaratte glows in the dark, the blown emburs of ashes try to cover the mesh of pretention on my face. He wanted to walk down the aisle, a black suit and see her so pretty in a white gown.
Ohh !! I am sorry, I just forgot how to dream, coz the debris still lingers.
How long is this night or How much in the night is his life left ??
Not so much.
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