Beyond The Veil Of the Mist

Some things are made for a purpose.

I wish to stand there, watch the clouds, feel the rain as it pours on me, washing my fears, tears, sorrows, joys, meanings, meaninglessness, longings, lost things those stone cold stares, those beautiful eyes I am bound to like a ball and chain on the ankle of my soul, hear the droplets play on my eye lashes, feel the splash of each on my eye balls, feel the water trickle down my neck , down my back, as if consuming my very essence of sentiments and emotion, making me less human, more rock, or the grain of sand washed with each wave, the one that is carried from coast to coast in millions of years only to be blown onto the land by the winds, or maybe to be in the desert when the sea dries up, that will some night glitter in the moon light like glass, maybe melt into glass, who knows what shall become of it; this very unpredictability of the future makes me crave to reach out to such extremities of complexities that can someday shear the sanity that I try so hard to hold on to, the thought of such isolation, away from the proximities of the feeling of me wanting to hold her in my arms, or was it someone else, or thoughts of such adultery that confuse me, an ounce of lust riding on the pillion of every beautiful thought I have, making it a dark place, my mind, making it bleed of evil, such sacrilege that it corrodes my very existence making me want to lose myself in the deepest unfathomable ocean depths with my limbs tied and my , where my voice shall never escape to the living world, for I hate the pretence of existence I put up each day, I await to break out of this shell, to exit stage of this mockery bound theatre called life.

Labels: Randomness

posted by Abinomable Non Nutcase @ 11:59 AM