In Between

“It all started with the color yellow, suffuse to red.

And here I’m caught in the grey.

In between colors. In between the spirit and nous.”

Chewing over the love and the lust. Chewing over friendship turning ‘I do not know what’. Tacit nights fueled with endless conversations, again contemplating the spirit and the nous. Wilderness and emoticons fill these, under the blanket, the chilly wind hovering above like a serpent that calls to tempt. Rush in being a debauch, believing in the theory of Osho or just talk to myself, whispering to myself ‘dare take that step… …’

            I just want to be brain fagged and give in to my desires of love and desires of lust. When I’m just about to do so, I mull over it again and again and again and again. Time shall heal, love shall fade, and friendship shall fizzle. I believed. I grow weaker in my belief; on no-Viagra I’m high. I call myself a douche bag for wanting the want. Kneading the need are those ‘never coming true’ conversations and fantasies. Omnipresent is that love. Perpetual is that friendship. Killing softly the desires, letting go the craving.

Guilt it would result into. Who the fuck gives a damn to guilt? We’re here to enjoy the present, be with each other, make love and deeply sink in the moment. There again, the psyche works, reminding me of the one who wait for me there. The one who intrusts me from oceans apart and awaits the day of union, I may chose to name ‘wedlock’. My conscience refuses to featherbed deeds that would lead to rue and hue of hatred and distrust.  I’m a retard, I know it well. Retard in love, trying to fall out of it. Oh baby, my heart feels like a tampon, sucking drosses I make it brook. Falling in love in order to get out of the other. No, that is not an attempt to make a palindromic statement but the bluntness of my messed up self.

The importance of candidness in a ‘to-be’ relationship about my ‘it-was’ relationship. How important? Boy, can’t we chuck (Bass) the past! No I do not guarantee a loyalty any which way but this is a way to set my heart at peace, for a while. Set my conscience free of the guilt for a while. Of the hidings and findings tossed in the air, freed from gravity.  Escapism I seek from the clutches of the gone. The gone is a memory, I devour, and I savor. To grow old with you is just an endeavor. A lost soul sought for. A lost soul found you, in the middle of that downhill. Clutches you, faithfulness is promised. If only, of the guilt I’m freed. I slipped those errs, nightmares I may call but deep within, prised.

Wish to throw these thoughts back in Pandora’s box and soak myself into nirvana. Smoke that pot. Roll that joint. Sniff that coke. At the end, it is just plant and powder. The crux must not matter, the process must not be asked. Just sigh when high.

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