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Napalm Cellophane and Night !

desk full of tattered paper and thoughts

I was idle, laying on my bed battling the blues, staring the ceiling, staring into the darkness of my room trying to figure out depth of this jilted despair inside me. Something comes when you least expect it, so was this feeling of emptiness of this whole world has been depopulated and world being blue just with an exception of my windowpane which was colorless, perhaps like my thoughts, or your portrait on my wall that I have painted and your interpretation of me. Of me being.

I slept by the windowpane. A cool breeze touched my face accompanying me during my tribulations. I saw some blue cellophane paper lying there rejected, heartbroken. Cornered by pangs of unknown guilt. It’s mine now. I put it between my eye and the windowpane, and it led to my agent of antithesis arousing the anarchy of desires “I saw Shades of the night sky punctuated, neatly with stacks of clouds and pictures of you”. My current state of thought utopia was murdered and I was in parallel worlds in parallel far away dreams, Dreams in which anything true or conscious is blurred and I stumbled upon the “grey of an aged parchment on which I wrote something for you”. My existence and will all smudged by its over-powering trance and a million symmetric drops, trance that hold me puppet and Drops that kept piercing through my pretentious armors of self-defense and finally Poof! Vanished my conscience like my valor does in front of you when I need to tell you about how much I love you. Like Ovid, creating your metamorphoses, and searching for his Soul like a forlorn Shadow my eyes wept colorless tears, rivaling the colorless of the windows pane. Perhaps now I know what is that mark on the lonely crescent moon, tears that it wept over eons has dried there.

Endless labyrinths, Felling rising like Smoke in disturbed spirals towards an un-ending ceiling of capacious dome, I needed something to be liberated, resurrected. Oh smoke! The Mirror of Pseudo-braves and a paper because Sometime my tears look so much better on a page. While I decorate my messy desk in this unending dark night, dark of either kohl or burnt coal used as kohl (yes I'm jealous of that kohl that you use to darken the edge your eyelid because it taunt me within from your eyes),with sheets of tattered white paper written all over with your name and thoughts and drawn portraits  Can I tell what I feel ?

See through me
If you want, use a blue cellophane paper
But even he will not filer my love for you
Search for me
Reach out. I’m there, waiting
Tucked behind my demons,
Tangled in forget-me-not of your eye,
Tangled between the line of your smile
And some dreams of you
Watching rain, blue.
Thinking about you.
Waiting.


P.S - Just a curious Question . Do you prefer MESSY DESK or CLEAN DESK ?

Comments

  1. what should I say about this .. you have wrote another brilliant post buddy.. you depicted some much pain with such an ease (h) .. i have to mention i'm too impressed with your writing .. or should I say you have got a fan now :)

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    1. i'm flattered :D .. Thanks for your lovely comment :)

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  2. One thing for sure Ankur the lady of your life will surely be Impress with you..
    And she will really love you a lot as you will always come up with something nice and catchy to say her...
    BTW I always love a clean desk..I hate being messy :-)

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    1. haha.. i just hope so .. that by the time that miracle happen .. the words inside me don't die :D .. seriously you love clean desk .. you half hearten engg :P

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    2. Arey Because engg mein bas exam ke Ek din pehle hi Book kholta tha.. :p
      Aur phir halat :-?

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    3. hahaha.. can understand the situations ;-(

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  3. just one word for this ... wow. insightful.

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  4. beautiful .. as always .. btw why are you being jealous of her kohl ? I hope she certainly looks beautiful with kohl in her eyes ;) ..

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    1. thanks .. yeah she surely looks beautiful .. or wait .. i've to find that re-imagine her again to find out the truth :D

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  5. Ankur! Lovely post! Such sweet thoughts and emotions born with hope...lovely! :)
    P.S: Messed ya clean, koyi bhi chalega! :P

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    1. Thanks Bushra .. :) oh really.. koi bhi chalega ?? ;)

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  6. Replies
    1. thanks Indrani .. u have always been a person to comment here and support me .. :)

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  7. ur dreamy, creative person right? the prose itself is so poetic and beautiful...!!

    i read somewhere that a person who has a messy desk is creative...and that's when i sighed in relief, looking at my really messy desk!!

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    1. Thanks you .. yeah sometime i'm dreamy .. hahaha .. i read it too .. but messy desk is more then out of laziness inside me rather than the creativity :D

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  8. whoa.. what a wonderful post. your feelings poured out in such an ease. what to say? you never failed to impress me with your choice of words. kudos man.. :)

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