Temporary ranting of a mind. Blah..blah! Doesn't make much sense!
The world will fall apart With you in it. With me in it.
The sway of time The rhythm of clock. The synchronicity of destruction The progress that we obstruct.
The world will fall apart Without you in it. Without me in it.
The music on loop Plays like the thoughts That never rests, that never breaks That swirls by your head That never stays, that never craves.
The world will fall apart With you or without you in it. With me or without me in it.
What will stay? What will last? What, oh what? What?
Maybe the autumn leaf Dead and withered Maybe the decaying bark of the tree That someone had cut.
Maybe the bricks, and the books The words scratched and the words read. Maybe the thoughts will float Free in the air, where you once lived Where I once lived Free from the forced candour Of your speech and act.
And just like the purple hues of a dying sunset, desires and dreams blend in black when night of their eras come.
Aged scars, and aged words are never aged for a perceiver, for he's new to your pain.
Melancholy, a great grand child of expectations, a velour of death, a sign of the doomsday for smiles. Melancholy my friend! 's got very bad habit. Bad habit of not knocking at the door before whacking you down.
You still ask me why I am plugged on earphones while there's no song playing in it? The world's too less of a broke, to create heart-broke songs for me.
I've created a memoir of lyrics, when I was all alone! I'll let no one play it, but you my friend! You've got all rights to sell my lyrics, before you put me in the grave. Sell them to the honest caveman, ask him for 6½ feet land, and quarter pile of his hay-stack. You burn it beside me! I know you'll cry when am gone, and you'll need some warmth you'd already lost. He's honestly a framed modest, he won't bargain.
Of Bargain? I have an another story to tell! I thought it's love where we don't beg and bargain...
Beloved! 'Tis where all the illusion lies, because we beg and bargain for what we get in return is love.
This ain't that *she left me shit!* this is something more, you'll never understand, Indeed when I said. "you'll understand it when am gone" and you replied "I won't".
People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires. -uk
Rain crashes down On thatched rooftops You whisper because The words you speak Are not words I want to hear You kiss my Cold skin with Even colder lips But you make No attempt to Interrupt the silence As the storm Continues to rage Outside the window An ironical mirror To our dysfunction.
The next morning A glimmer of sun Arches in through The smallest of Cracks in the Window, when we Make love, there Is an unspoken guilt That gnaws away At our bones To speak of The events of Last night is A sacrilege So we sew Our lips shut And wait for Another chance At redemption.
You want to quit Because they won't Let you write your Own script, they are Afraid that the ending Is far too sad And that would Impact the millions It might rake in At the box office ("You see love, the Audience wants to Exit the theatre with A smile on their face") I laugh at your Near perfect British accent Never mind that The dollars won't end up In your back pocket In any case.
You tell me That you have All these stories You want to share Far too many And the vast majority Die before they can Even be born It used to Be something that Made you mad So mad, but you Learned that there Will always be tales That never end up Seeing the light of day.
What does the dawn Feel like, you ask me In a childlike voice I show you a picture Taken with a 5 megapixel camera And you say "Oh" Is it how you imagined It would be, I ask And you stare blankly Before replying in a bored voice "I never imagined it at all." You cannot fall asleep before 3 AM, and you hate Insomnia jokes and 7 AM flights even more Than you hate Strawberry flavored milkshake.
You end up naming All my poems, and when I ask you how Is it that you always Come up with beautiful titles All you say is "Because you cannot, and It seems odd to have A poem without a title." I never tell you that I end up reading All your stories, with Their tear jerker endings To fall asleep at night.