Death, the one appointment we all must keep, and for which no time is Set.

Death, the one appointment we all must keep, and for which no time is Set.

I have been writing since my preppie days or I shall write till eternity. Will I starts scripting my daily journals through out the days just to see myself written on the wall. Alas I don’t want to be just another brick of the wall or I don’t follow the rat race. But I complain myself as angel complains thee. The walled life of me inside burning and scorch down to ashes. All my responsibilities and tragedies were torturing me; I felt I have had a numb paralyzed soul inside my body. In the end of the day, there’s I am the only one who suffered and infested.
These days, I would like to stoned myself. The pain relief me like no-one else. The soothing effects of pain got me; see me with my own eyes. The feelings of self immolate pains gives me the power to re-invent the inner humane side of me. I found solitude that cured me like no-one.

I wish, if I could programmed myself to do the MY things. This is the freakiest dream I had ever dreamed and dreamed about it all the times. I just want to break free from this so called monotonous world where I can’t find place for solitude. Otherwise the poisonous fungus that grows in front of us before we realize we become his prey. But definitely, wait and watch I will have my romance with life before romance becomes revenge.
Life is damn mechanic and programmed to do certain things only. The limitations are very high and expectation killed the rule of existence. Where an existence seems suffering and dissolves in loneliness. Hope and dreams are dried up like desert water and dead like a homeless hungry streets dogs. The nomadic, antisocial inside me crawl like gasoline infested SUV on the rubber smelling highways of life. The haze that surround me like a deadly fungus and makes me swimming in the gravity less capsule where I don’t even find out up and bottoms. In the deep hurts of foggy environment I often lost my way back home. The ghost of navigator is drunk and out with it self confessed with egoistic head.


Could you love me, for me?
Who makes mistakes?
Could you love me, for me?
Who keeps broken promises?
Could you love me, for me?
Who always led you cry?

Did I quite