Wednesday, April 14, 2010


In the dark of the night,

You pick up the best in sight,

The bush that brings the smoke,

Something that makes u choke,

They crush it ,

Then they brush it,

They remove it,

They dissolve it,

They fill it ,

Then they refill it,

They mix it,

Then they fix it,

They roll it

Before they burn it.

They inhale it,

Feels like an innocent mover,

They exhale it,

Feels still like a new found lover,

Then comes the spider, the dreaded spider,

It walks through the empty lane,

It crawls through the empty pipes,

Its legs being felt at every inch and corner,

Done to maximize that tingling sensation,

They feel good, but still haven’t been

Feelin’ this well for lives gone green,

Then suddenly you hear them,

You hear them loud you hear them clear,

You feel why some things are so near,

You see your dear,

You talk to your own bloody fear,

You smell the bush

It kills you with a slight push.

Your body fluid dries,

Your throat fries,

Under the moonless night you wonder

Whether it is worth or a bloody blunder,

You can hear ticks, you can hear the tweaks,

Why this is so clear, are we bloody freaks,

You start with a lisa smile,

It means you are taken for a mile,

Some call it a forelorn journey,

I call it a hard fought derby,

You try to fight for normalcy,

The harder you try, the more the intimacy,

You let yourself go,

With one good blow,

But still sounds don’t go,

Emptiness scare you,

People confuse you,

You try to steal a wink,

Alas its an armour with no chink,

You try to remember good ol’ days,

But alas there are only bad hot Mays,

Listen to the music,

Well it makes you sick,

It takes you left , it takes you right,

You try going straight with all your might,

You try to remember to forget,

But it is not that easy to take a bet.

You enjoy munchin

Cause you feel a fire in your belly,

The smoke might have died down

But the ash still remains,

It still blackens your brains

Like an unstoppable rain,

IT floods your thoughts,

You connect the connecting dots,

This might not rhyme well,

IT might sound like hell,

But this is a shit,

That only few can hear the bell.

1 comment:

  1. if the above work is original you will go places. If it is not meet at durga!


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