I sit in solitude,
I do not see anyone,
I do not hear anything,
I do not smell anything,

It is the silence I see,
I hear and talk to my divine,
And to my self in solitude.

In the evening ,
I sit in solitude,
I recall all my life events,
Of the day and reflect on.
All done in solitude,
and it gives me satisfaction.

The solitude gives you
Happiness, peace,
Love and bliss.
You are all alone in solitude,
The silence gives you,
Company in solitude.


Adikaran 21/02/12

They're huddled 'round their periodic lunch tables,
square and socially pyramidal,
and I'm at the bottom.

But they're just fluorine factions,
bullies at heart trying to steal my e-lectricity
with their negativity.

Because I'm light,
Ultra-violet violence to the eyes,
Magnesium burning.
Anti-matter meets matter.

And that catalytic, cataclysmic energy is attractive.
And they see me. They see, see, see,
But I've got too many Cs on this side of my false, metallic personality.
I'd better balance myself
Or I'm not getting a good reaction.

Classic ionic, ironic idiocy.
I've bonded with you,
just compounding the issues.
'Cause you're a complete acetate without a solution:
now all I've got are problems.

Dot Diagrams are dotted lines separating you from me,
because over the years what was a bond
became a partially negative charge
against me.

I was your oxygen, and you were carbon
-ated, bubbly and explosive.
We would Combust.

But now all's left but to see, oh, two
of your new girlfriends flanking your sides,
'cause we've decomposed, split, gone off to better things.

Monatomic monotones lace my speech,
and I'm pining for something to complete this emp-d shell
that is myself.

'Cause I miss what we had.
We had chemistry.

I used to live in the real world.
I used to live in a happy place, a place where things were easy.
People mistake that for childhood,
I recognize it as simplicity.
I remember a name barely being spoken.
Hardly croaked. Callus.
The sound of a wretch who maybe had too much to drink the night before.
Or maybe she'd just been crying all day.
She told me that my house was broken.
I remember the wretched look,
The tears being held,
A face pale as the walls I grew up with.
They now would never stand again.
I remember the words,
"How are you taking this so well?"
I didn't have an answer. I didn't even have a reaction.
Always them, always slaved.
Never fear, never broken, never even stand.
Maybe I grew up too fast.
Maybe I didn't grow up at all.
But now I'm here.
Wherever this is.
I don't like it but I call it home.
I'm weak, dearest.
I wish I could tell you otherwise.
I'm not broken, I'm fragile.
I'm not crystal, but I'm clear.
I'm not dead but everyone is dying,
And all I can say is that these floorboards don't creak.

Coiled, in stiff repose
The green frog flexes, it's nimble toes.
Locked, it's muscles test
The green frog's will, proves the best.
Straining, to hear the flap
The grey hawk stalking, the green frog's trapped
Cringing, it hears the dive
Hawk-eyes lock, on a bright green prize
It leaps! It's spring proves better than
The plummeting hawk, an experienced veteran
Adjusts it's flight, as the frog leaps right!
Then soft green flesh, bleeds from a **** made fresh
And talons stained red, left the frog dead.

Walking through the valley she sees the leaves fall to the ground beneath their trees,
but as she went to pick one up the wind blew them all away.  
And so began the wait again, to land another day.
Suddenly, she is crawling, blind, across the living ground,
searching for her vision staring blankly all around.
Again the wind disturbs the leaves, then saunters on it's way.
The birds sit silent amidst the trees because the branches sway.
Or perhaps to see the leaves away, she freezes with a certainty.
The sounds are vivid, the smell is that of things long grown.  
Now she slips and turns a stone,
the taste of forest green perches on her taste buds.
She shivers, unsettled, and rests her body beneath a stoic tree,
the eyes of the forest settle upon she, in anticipation of revelation.
In the darkness, she savors the sweet touch of the spring breeze,
with it rustling a thousand leaves.
She is strengthened by the swaying rhythm of the ancient tree
and so she rises up off of her knees, and through the sensations ceases the need.  
And she sees!
To completely perceive she must live like the leaves.
So she, so relieved, knelt down on her knees
And freed her true essence to ride with the breeze.

A catfish laughs.
It thinks of other catfishes
In other ponds.