Something's wrong. It's not happening right. It perhaps doesn't even matter. But its troubling. Just the thought of it. It enters your mind and does you wrong all over. You begin to wonder about it and then you lose it. Just, just like that. When you start writing about it, you really wonder whether you could find better words to give a better meaning to it or does it make sense to even write about it. Everything is lost. The meaning of it. Its simple and natural loss and then there's joy. But when you think its gone, it shows back again. It torments you. Whether you did, what you did, was moral? Does meaning have to draw a line in every aspect of its sense. can you leave certain things? Wait for them to strike again? Its not worth it right? This life and death? This, everything, that perhaps comes in between it. Is there existence? Does it have to persist this way? Can't it be simpler? Its terribly confusing. But then not everything is. Sometimes life is so lucidly exposed. Then everything darkens. Its bleak. Its wrong. You wan to change things but you can't. Your simple faith gets raped. You pick its remnants smothered on the road by your filthy hands. Next morning is wonderful. The sun, tea and your hot water bath. Your work. Then someone says somehing to you. Its wrong again. There's death around the corner; always. You see her beautiful face, those delicate lips. You never cross her, but you see her in your shadows. Following you. Death is definite and so is birth. Everything in the middle is relevan and at the same time its not at all. It can't be. You wouldn't wish for it to be so. You plunge into a pool, the water feels like blood. You swim against tides of time. Have you ever sat in a room and you have lost track of time. There is no possible way of finding out. You feel so wronged. Your whole meaning to everything blurs. You wish it wouldn't be so. You feel love and hate in the same day. Often you end up hating what you love; and loving what you hate. You explore everything. You talk of reason, when you reason you can't anymore. Your life not only misses a beat of a heart but it races and then it stops to normalcy. You wish and you long; you curse and then spread your words all over the town. Someone misses the point. They have to. Can they see or feel what you do. They laugh and then one day you laugh. You break your heart and you hear it being shattered after it has fallen a countless steps. You grow another one. You live for everything, you wait for it. But it doesn't come. You win and lose some. You gain wisdom but then it isn't justified. You hear words of someone, they died so lonesomely. What could it be this ramblings? Your happiness and my sadness? Your knowings and my sense of priority? Where could I find love, where you have never been? Where could I meet you, where you wouldn't want to be. Its dark and then there is light. The light manages everywhere. You forget the past and the future secures you for a second and then drops you into an abyss. You see a world that Alice may have longed. You are superior to everyone till you step out of the room. There you see shadows, your humilty avoids stepping on them. You wonder for strange maddness. You can't find it. You want to write something, but you can't. You wish it would be simple. You look at others. They are wrong sometimes, but they love you. There is death in them. You don't see that. You never do. The light bulbs in the hallway, they shine like your eyes. The moon is your beauty. The wind is your smile. The shadow is your evening dress. The reason is the sea. I would stand on stand on anything, wait for you, a song, then it will be blown away. I am mad. Don't laugh cause so are you. You may just present yourself well, and we all do. But you are what you never see. The mirror never shows your soul. Its wrong. Your immortality is just a prayer when you're winning. When you lose, I see what you understood. Who talked about learning. We are missing something here. There should be wine. There should be women and the spirits. All undressed in the theatre. A voice of a ghost. And a whisper of dream from ever orphanage. From prisons where every night is tortured where every right is lost. There is a sun. There is a world. There is happiness. I know of it, I don't see it though. I never will. Until I chose not to. We never relate to anything till we die for it. The expression. There is something. I reach and I fall. Into a hole where the armies fell. I live in your eyes. I'm there for only a song.