interrupts a stroll down the memory lane
linear meta brain
meticulously performing the act of
now, lesser in terms of quantitative hints
the never ending path
that circumvents the colourless
it contravenes the limitless scenes of a liberating regime
trust plummets into the hands of perceptive fiends
taken instead of countless numbered pills
a train of exaggerated kin
tracks back to those with highly assumed authorities
amidst the group of avid anti-socials
vividly varied in opinions
from a sword to a pin
essentially assembled to speak against the ancient ones
a neoteric synchronization
scaling screaming lexemes
the scathed silk screeches
soaked in acid
flamed till the ashes can be smelled
but never seen
seemingly insignificant statements
covert and pristine
so in this lockdown perdiod....i've got a lot of time to brood...a lot of time to think about where i', headed....well that's the glass-half-full version of it...
i somehow induced a writer's block ....which is quite weird because i dont really consider myself as a proper writer...im just here to rant...i guess i am even having a difficulty in finding the right words to say...it's a chaos ...it's like a swarm of at least a million words soar through my mind when im about to put my chords to the work....i guess i'll write my way through it.
nowhere left to go
to roam around like my fingers
on a velvet paper field.
I feel distant interruption
intervene the altruistic crime scene
i prefer the roughness of noise
the stealthy supremacy of grain
over the oblivion
the obvious reason being the auditory
that's always heard of
but never seen.
I dive into the nuages
the new ages of the persistent sycophants
seeking the attention of the
that might roar up quite the anxiety
into a gullible mind.
yes, my ink's red ( i used a red pen)
i write from within
with the slightest of hints
of a proto universe
i've heard of the celestial beings
disappearing into the scenes
keep up the culture of giving in
nurtutring the neurons of those
who've locked themselves in
i can't speak but that's enough
enough to get it into your distance
are you listening?
flickering about in vast intervals
turbulence, i soar through
tore stooping down the
fabricated fabric of verisimilitude
similarly acknowledged but promised
to be kept seperate but equal, continuous
levelling down of the sequel
lower in position,
my questions are up to you
i endure the pain
the finest sight of stoicism
a plain variation in the
the direct pressure forced
upon the grounds
to hold upto the
like bricks in a wall
we fall under the category of Filling the columns.
*like a cry from a mortal
who writes letters to get his words in place
so i send 'em through a time portal
as he lives in a different age,
making my piece immortal.
resuscitating minds in their conclusive days*/
the way to my sanctorum
filling the void, in place by the devastation caused by your ammunition.
a threat to the decorum(of the living world)
//all the universe's spheres combined
still wouldn't fit the diametre of the iris in my eyes\
when i see through you
see THROUGH your mask you
put on to remove the pollution
purifies the skin
and leaves you with
white and glowing
insecurities and commotion.
people flew with the notion
selling their psych in portions
if i would've bought it
then they would've called it
profit in oceans.
Every year you grew more insensitive
and called it promotion.
through the strands of your hair
i see a clock
with each of its hands facing the opposite of one another
as dynamic as the hues of your face
but in the center.. have the same colour
a ***** of your nail in my back causes
the epiphany to rupture,
so either im too much into hating you
or half past the other.
2 seperate pieces...for some unexplored reason...one cant be presented without the other, in my mind. doesn't really make sense...doesn't have to.
— The End —