It moves with you, silently. Slithering along the shadows at blistering speed, it stalks you—stopping wherever you stop…waiting, watching and calculating.
The pace of the city is a nocturnal animal. The night is its junge.
Have you ever felt the icy finger of an unknown feeling, play with your spinal cord? It happens to me at times. In the dead of the night, sleep becomes sweat. The machine-like nausea strumming away in my head is disturbing. Sometimes, when that happens—I change into something else.
People at parties, people at office, people at work—all of them surprise me. They are unique and yet they don’t realise it. I try to talk to myself but I don’t find the same me. I try to look into pictures to make myself realise that there is a reason for everything. But suddenly I realise that there is something else that is more powerful…something else that matters more than just finding out reasons.
Why are we doing what we are doing? Questions like that are disturbing. Here’s one more: For instance, why are you reading this? I was bullshitting all this while, trying to tie some knots into my broken strings.
What were you doing?
The pace of the city is a nocturnal animal. The night is its junge.
Have you ever felt the icy finger of an unknown feeling, play with your spinal cord? It happens to me at times. In the dead of the night, sleep becomes sweat. The machine-like nausea strumming away in my head is disturbing. Sometimes, when that happens—I change into something else.
People at parties, people at office, people at work—all of them surprise me. They are unique and yet they don’t realise it. I try to talk to myself but I don’t find the same me. I try to look into pictures to make myself realise that there is a reason for everything. But suddenly I realise that there is something else that is more powerful…something else that matters more than just finding out reasons.
Why are we doing what we are doing? Questions like that are disturbing. Here’s one more: For instance, why are you reading this? I was bullshitting all this while, trying to tie some knots into my broken strings.
What were you doing?
1 comment:
trying to figure out why Kavita had to die and why am i feeling so alone and lonely and missing her sooo much.... John I miss her so much... I miss her everyday and I wish she did not have to go so soon.... I feel so lonely without her....
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