Sunday, April 8, 2012


Attacks of Consciousness

Hers is an evergreen story. It falls natural on timelines, each a distant limelight needing for itself no tale for retaliation. It grows greener with every news, and yet, immobile as the distance, as if a lazy sunset held in place by hazy instants of greed. 

It's the place where the overenthusiastic eventual had occurred.

Yes, a place once cool, clear in its vigorous forgiving, and now, an old system of hope locked in tape. It oversees and watches nothing in dank, dusty places.

Imagined injury ventures out, in search of a floral bunch, even as the marginal, the inner jury, suffers attacks of consciousness, sensing the approaching crunch

No. When doors lock, nobody leaves with suspense still on their plate.

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