scripts...

are they real?

are they fate, destiny or

anything that i wonder to know about?

whatever it could be,

i read it

........

i am haunted!

the crazy utopian

i wonder, now,

could she be an utopian or

a myth of my dreams that

make me engaged

and loving my muses?

whatever, i owe her

i am walking unto the crazy utopia

where i will court and ....

.......

sometimes, things seem pretty dirty

dirty, pretty things!

memories, they never die

they are all like immortals, we fail and

they won!

i have tried many and failed pathetically,

for, memories are scripted deep within the unknown shores of

unknown lands.

i fail only before my memories,

they dominate me.

i erased them, some of them,

but they keep coming in.

.....

i just gotta get out of here

and i just want to explode,

i want to fly high, high and high above the firmament

and want to drop myself like an eagle from the heavens.

i will get you my myth,

for, you make my myth!

Comments

Hindolam: S

When someone is taken away from you, you realise how much you need that person. The universe took 'him' away from her and she wasn't ready to give up yet. She needed to get back to 'him', to her world. That was the only thought that crossed her mind, it consumed her. Her fear, perplexities and doubts vanished, this was the moment she figured out what she really wanted. She realised that she knew it all along. She loved 'him' so dearly that she wouldn't leave 'him' for anything in the world. She told him, "I belong to 'him'. No matter how intensely you love me, I will love 'him', not you. Because it was a promise for a lifetime. Even death can't do us apart. Let me go. I have to go back to 'him'. I know I'm hurting you but 'he' needs me. And do you know how ardently I love and admire 'him'? As much as you love me, if not more. And 'he' loves me much more than that also. ” His moist eyes...

Turtles of the Moon

I ought to have maintained my anonymity until the denouement, for it is there that our prospects would have thrived most auspiciously upon the uncharted horizon of the unknown. The mere possibility of your transformation into the conjured metabolism of pataphysical existence weighed heavily upon my heart and mind as never before. I unwittingly ensnared myself in the role of a semi-demi doppelganger of Ulysses, thus sowing the seeds of my life's sabotage. I would occasionally catch fleeting glimpses of grace in the glimmer of a wondrous, age-old ruin of impeccable provenance. Through the enchantment of that ancient relic, I sustained the illusion of your presence with a kind of marvelous grace. Yet, as I struggled to regain my aesthetic maneuverability, I found myself compelled to make a sacrificial offering of your memory upon the altar of the immutable cosmological constants. I carry you with me to my tomb, and perhaps even beyond, for you persist within me, omnip...

Ruth: The Epilogue

"But..." I was being dragged by the ebb of time into the abyss. On the shores, beneath the mountains, blue waters lulled my feet. I was looking at the completion of my life as she was calling me to join the tides. The gravity of the past pulled me into the quantum architecture of multiple dimensions of life. I fell into the realms where I tricked my past to stay engaged. My present is an analogy of my past. The energy I created, then, in the quantum architecture transformed into an autonomous being of intelligence. I was unable to stop it from growing into a being. They said, "Quantum corresponds to each other and can transfer information to each other, no matter of space or time." Her lips quivered, and her feelings clouded her mind as she appeared like a glitch in time. Her words echoed through the ages, " We should remain ignorant of each other like we used to be in the past. I will pretend that I never knew you." P.S: Spenser read from his book, ...

The Ballads of Gravity

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