I'm not a fan of Superman,
he doesn't know what it's like,
to be human;
a foe he can not fight.

I am
still writing the
"introduction"
and it seems
to over take
the book
of
me

"Hi"

Falling for a writer is a venture
Whose destination is so indeterminate , as to travel the infinity and beyond to only realise you haven't moved an inch , also to have been still and been carried to around to eternity !
As baffling my words sounds so is the very thought of falling for a writer!

They could read in between the lines yet sometimes fail to see the perceptable words in those lines,

The little things they notice are like the million piece puzzle of the alluring picture they paint!
Only to discern how much it would break them to realize a piece is missing from picture!

We don't fall for them we live through them
Most of us as a chapter in their book
Only a few to have been the witness to their exhibit!!

Don't fall for a writer as it's a venture to the unknown

weep weep weep the whole world
cry the whole cycle of darkness and light
and the whole azure of heaven and all the azure
and all the books that were on the bookshelf
on the shelf that burned then in august
when attacking death on our house

scatter the same voices last fatal
be carried away and carried all around
do not give air to all this here
do not give the sky and do not give more papers
do not dictate any more of these strange words
perhaps the land is worth and it will be necessary to stop

and right now and at this very moment
and it is at this hour this month in this year
all stopped what it means stopped even then
then when august was next to me when the books were
when the whole world was not even in the flames at all
when the bookcase was with me and the leaves did not sob

11.09.18

Symptomatic time bomb.
Deluded delusions of ethereal projections,
A dissociated self of severe sorrow.
Louder now, the crooning calls,
The malevolent mayhem of voices.
Sleepless nights, onset insomnia.
A refuge from reality is lacking.
Dreams sent packing.
Nightmares walk.
People talk.
And time offers no relief.
Crawling inside, fear growing.
Fiendish thoughts, lethal insanity.
Scribe away, transference of pain.
Words trapped between pages,
A book of demons, all of them screaming.
Bound by a spine of mental failing.
Fold the latch, turn the key.
Bury this *******'s tale.
Rinse and repeat,
With each rising defeat.
And pray the delay of further tells,
These fortunes of the lost amd the broken.

There is no friend as loyal as a book,
Improving your mood and outlook.
I wish I could read for hours all day,
Open the cover and drift far away.
To fantasy places and distant lands,
A dream you hold right in your hands.
For reading is dreaming with open eyes,
You are the pilot as the time flies.
Travelling far, right from your chair,
Some think I'm weird, but I don't care.
Between the pages is a lovely place to be,
Nothing will come between my books and me!

that something volatile seemed
because of the hard brown binding
the book flew pages
everything was in a huge bright flight

and all the previous distances were forgotten
forgot all that will be next
everything around was forgotten and pulled
was just that the flying flew

it flew a black flame of a fire
it flew and flown and circled
but all this was just a melody of the eyes
only the sound of flutes of distant

02.09.18

and so a new chapter begins.
the protagonist will face many challenges
new characters will be introduced
challenges will reveal themselves
but the most exciting thing
is that there is still so much book left to read.

i'm so excited to begin.