The Ballads of Gravity

There were times I dreamt of experiences for my self-wandering lone-traveler seeking experiences of all kinds. The past days were the epitomic declarations of my romances. I love her like I love my life, out of all her imperfections and indifferences I love her. The sentimental reasons of mine kept her alive even in her absolute absence. My impetuous sentimental inclination towards her has grown into a mature one. There, I was a boy imagining myself in different genre of existences, differing from the animus and anima I could never find a hiding place for my own.  She was a girl living in her utopian social dilemma and I was a boy living in my own anonymity loving the uncertainties ofj existence pertaining to the probabilities of possibilities. (18/12/14, 09:1 d I have edited something here. Those words are left to eterninty. Above, those words are still there in their alter life, ghost life. 0 PM) I’m grown into a man; she into a woman and I see her now, glowing like a star,

We are the harvesters of destiny, gathering the leeches of existence and the capriciousness of emotionless masks amidst the shores of lucid dreams and nocturnal splendor. I yearn to sing, to dance, to cry out like a madman. Bring me wine, and I shall whirl the world around the whims of human consciousness. Lead me into the depths of hell's darkness, and I'll illuminate her gates, infusing them with the exuberance of joy, filling the chalice of primal desires. Drinking deeply from life's cup, its bittersweet nectar rejuvenates my senses, enriching the tapestry of my existence. I embrace life, I consume love to its very dregs. Love, the sacred effusion of existence, binds me in the inability to unlove. I am submerged, intoxicated by the essence of my desires for her. And there, amidst the throng, I see them—men of remarkable vitality and determination, reflections of my own life, incarnations of staggering resilience. I am alive. I am Nature, she is my masterpiece. You cannot

# What charm thou possess to haunt me even in the remotest seclusion of my sentimental alienation from thy distraction! (10/10/14, 10:09 AM) <edited> /'cus, I think, you don't deserve it/ # I'm a lone traveller. Stars are my guides, wind is my speed, dream is my drive, time is my road, and space is my milestone and I don’t want to know my destiny. (01/11/14, 04:45 PM) There’s a reason and a cause for every bit of encounter. What makes us to do certain things and certain not? Have you ever imagined your death? Different types or say, rather styles of death? It's weird to think! The energy that was making our lives active burns out gradually is the normal death. The depletion of the bio mechanism in addition to the rejuvenation of the body and soul within a macrocosmic furnace predicts the elasticity and vulnerability of   animus survival of existing organisms.  As if life finds its way, death also does the same.  (28/11/14, 05:50 PM) Have you ever th

Hey, DO you know something about her? S-H-E- P-R-E-T-E-N-D-S- A- L-O-T, A LOT MEANS- SEE, SHE HAS THIS AFFECTATION AND CRAZY UTOPIANism. HOWEVER, SHE IS VERY PRACTICAL, I should admit it after all. And I’ve been all the way praising and singing her beauty, actually adoring, isn’t it? You know one thing? Actually, she’s isn’t really that pretty or beautiful or A-T-T-R-A-C-T-I-V-E. Really, im not kidding. Mmmmmm.. well, I’m sorry about that (I’m chuckling now). See dear, ( I know you are reading it I ) you are absolutely b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l and y-o-u- a-r-e something else I couldn’t ever find anywhere. So precious, you moron. And I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more (well, the last sentence is a quote from some wallpaper <which I didn’t put in the quotation>. I’m having it for my WhatsApp  profile picture. Did you see that? if not, do it now because I may change it sometimes I ). And, she has this verti

Of course, time and space run together. Working on a mutual understanding and habituation, they never overrule each other, but make the feel like one. In fact, they exist in two different sub-segments of a whole ever running chain of Life-Energy. Say, each segment carries particular memories connected with each time and space. There’s an atomic interpellation in each segments of time and space continuum.  They are designed like our DNA structure- myriads of segments and sub segments forming an ever-changing structure that progresses unto its destiny! If so, is time and space different? Yes, course, they are. Well, if that so, do they have separate existing parameters and entity or are they independent? Yes, they have separate entities and they exist in separate sub segments of one among many segments of a very ever-running wheel of Life-Energy. So, each sub segments of time and space contains particular events of our lives. They record everything in their respective fields and shar

"All characters appearing in this work are not fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely not coincidental." Epigraph First encounter is always a beautifully weird one if it was not planned beforehand. (16/08/14, 7:00 PM) … And that was the craziest thing he has ever done in his life. Whilst he forgot the place, the people, and the time- present and past, the whole universe became comprised into hers. Sounds around him became the echoes of some vague and random undeciphered chaos he heard under water or more like that of sounds he heard in his mother’s womb. Familiar public is tactically a good space for you to place yourself in a comfortable zone. It helps you both to pretend socially that you are enjoying their talk with a gorgeous smile.  (17/08/14, 9:46 PM) I can’t continue because I face a block here. I wrote this passage a month ago and each day I come in to continue the epigraph; then, I meet expression

I am writing here again after pretty a long time.  I made myself not to write the lives.  I live many lives literally, of unbelievable kinds and non-existing; sometimes platonic Romeos and Juliets or Ulyssess and Aristotles.   An Expat! Far from the land of roots and romances, time took me to the exotic and strange lands of dreams. The air is suffocating with the pollution of dreams of expats including mine. It's strange and horrible to feel the air of my new lands because I feel wetness of tears and hollowness of dreams in the air left by my unfortunate fellow beings. Here, I stand on my own legs firm and staunch, to witness the passage of time along with the depletion of age of my fellow being. I fly above them like a hawk. I don't prey them, but I prey their dreams left untamed and hollowed. Who am I here? An occurrence? Falling into the perfect shapes of time and space gravity contradicts its own laws. Reality is much better than the fantasy as it constitutes the