This bliss .... then the distortion

(This sleep remains a part of this beautiful mess ...)
I hate waking up these days; its utterly the bland realization of this palpable feeling of total resolute emptiness ... and distance ...

(The distance between here & above is measured through self and not fame ... )
And I crave for the measure, perhaps the last stretch seemed near ... how long, how far? And then the catapult slaps a rape on your face, in the form of a dream ...

(I dreamt I was a satellite in the orbit of her arms and it was warm but it wasn't long till I woke up alone ... )
So I slept, and so I awoke ... revive my resign again.

(Lost between you and me and everyone less shy of letting life pass them by ... )



I found my old spiral book. These parenthesis excerpts are from songs/poems found in that ...

(In the circus that has lured her away from me
I play the part where everything has started not to be
Although you are painted in the brilliance of bright sun-lit days
I have waited forever in shadows to rectify my misery)
( untitled #57 - spiral notebook )

A couple of more songs written, a couple recorded. Next post should carry the bop-grungy-rock Many Yellow Days ditty.

In the corner of the former
Writing letters to make words
No denials no surrender
Just a very fragile world
( only sirens - dye corduroy )