a literary expedition

dear little red riding hood,  (i) fear makes the wolf look bigger. calm down, have a better look  he ain't that scary right..? now take a step forward that's it.. i believe you have realized  he the same size of Browny keep that strawberries aside it makes you look silly bend down, pick that big stone there rise & you ll find him running for his life. let grandma knit her sock  or make soup in peace.  (i) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Red_Riding_Hood#mediaviewer/File:Carl_Larsson_-_Little_Red_Riding_Hood_1881.jpg

words from somewhere deep within blastula of my illusion and verity born to my journal and fountain pen which slipped in wind and fell in rhythm

the pain in my chest  dissolved into my blood i wished to slit open my veins and pour it out the darkness in my mind the numbness of my knees my eyes pleaded more from the fading vision my lungs longed for air which was fleeing the room my cold body froze even my thoughts somewhere the loud hollowness rose filling the air around me the pain popped in droplets of sweat from every pore my beats raced my breaths till they cried like a hyena like the cork which popped like the foam which spilled like the plates that shattered like the glasses those slipped a moment rose like a big wave my body surfed it but later diminished into a slip like on a slimy floor a slip, a small quick flip like the one before falling asleep (my imagination of those last moments)

For me writing is therapeutic. when you write down wandering thoughts, they go through filtering.. a lot of cleansing.. further classification and disposal. jotting down these unidentified emotions, anonymous vibes and crazy thoughts leaves me more sorted. it helps me to realize my priorities, new interests, weaknesses and much more.. all these things drew me to blog and though its been very less time, i feel i have found my outlet to speak out loud.. connect .. share and feel heard by the world.

like the waves breaking at the shore my breaths and beats are breaking me to sore like the window panels after rains my eyes are mourning your absence it pains like my wait for the end of this tough track my soul is craving for you to come back like a hunt inside the tresuure chest my memoirs are searching our times best like the violets on the mountain box my will for you can break the rocks like the vibgyor in the skies arm you in life makes the same charm.

you have captured it   but you cant kill it. you have touched it, but you cant change it. you are in it but you don't own it. you complete it but you don't commence it. you cant turn it black or white,  its vibgyor and a lot more you cant fill it with joy or pain,  i am from the planet of scales.  (incomplete)

i can glance at you with all my lust in it twist, turn, bind you pull you from the corner of the room by running my eyes up down, round and round, urging you to make the first move with emilio pucci corset dress                                               a bit of cleavage, skin and red lips. i can sit close to you, make you feel you are the only man in the room i can listen to you, like you sound like a fireman, writer or a biker. i can laugh on your jokes, all of them tap your shoulder and withdraw my hands after running them till your chest, slowly. i can whisper in your ear, teasing your earlobe with my lips, scouring, letting my perfume work its way up to your nose and then your brains. and smile like you are full moon in a star studded sky on the beach. i can be smart, funny, really smart warm or hot....