interlocking Complex(cities)
a fortunate mixed complexion
comprising of liberating schemes.
the unnatural routine
followed by beings with hindered genes
i see them upload themselves in a virtual scene.
i look up to them, twice
binocular vision
remix the visuals with binaural beats
to keep me levitating
before breaking into a fragmented
piece.
they’ve preached their nuisance to me
i’ve definitely caught an anomaly
i’ve heard them fabricating speech into something humble and noble
i’ll wait till it’s my turn to be
insidious
i’ll spit radiation like Chernobyl
to obliterate the ever growing regime.
molecular regain
they speak up to my senses
to attain the consent of the
eternal and beyond
with an upright movement
momentum i gain
from forthcoming sonder
while wandering down to the streets
you’re listening to city dreams
lean back, chime in
with psychedelic scenes
peripheral context
sidetracked to prevent hindrance
from the beings that are of obscene nature
i’ve seen a lot of those
nurturing themselves
by ******* onto the future
still stuck up on the yet coming past
trying to get grips on the titular concept
there’s authority with the ones who kept it flowing
rugged strength no guffawing
headed straight to the delirious ends of the rope
always falling but never out of hope
the stream that quenches the guilt of those
showing up with guns just to pinch a loaf
exterior combats
come back to the present
im here to steal the philosopher’s stone
getting ****** just to soar
above the stratosphere
i went straight out of the blue sphere
where i got to see the blues that fill up the majority of the crust
****** back to my grounds
the velocity burned my rust
thats a leap higher than the nukes
you trust
get to my location
ask the Everest where im at
it’ll point up to me and i’ll wave back
but there’s a truth thats yet to be told
i held the meeting of gods that weren’t sold
nobody showed up
neither the young nor the old
except avowed fakes that claim to be woke

The city questions
        the virtue of animals
Islamabad

You tell me I was good with words
And you fell in love with me

You tell me I was good with words only
And you fell out of love from me

Dear Unsaid Words

Please don't bury me alive!


I bent
I broke
I hid
Myself

To level with your

Bent
Broken
Hidden
Self

Why do people 'FALL' in love?

Love should't be something you fall in and fall out from

Or is it some sort of mistake in 'wordplay?'

If it is, isn't that a terrible one?
For words and words are the sublime "hope that will save us."

Shouldn't one 'RISE' in love?
Shouldn't you 'RISE' in love?

Seems to me a reasonable question to ask ourselves
Before going out there and trying to
'Fall' yet again
For someone or for OURSELVES.

We are not some 'season'
Defined by a mere rotation of curvature.
We are blood and brains...

Would it be so unpleasant if we tried and lived a little, lived in love, rising in it each day?