Confabulations

Redacted life. Ornate string of odes reduced to monotonous chick lits. Between magical and black-magical, the only difference is the perceived darkness. Rethinking is not quite the same as re-feeling, I observe. Like finding that the oar you held on is only the creation of your mind to manage the tempest in the heart. Or like realizing the oar is the stimulant of such tempest. Sounds like the Kashmir problem. Just like terrorism, love, hatred…imagination has no religion. Well, imagination has nothing at all anyway. Laughing at the silliness of it all. Strange world, which laughs in utter agony and sheds happy tears, what next, angry hugs?

Wisps of smoke emanate thrusting thousand knives into one single fact. Emotions are mortal, know them, kill them. Reason? Anything to avoid slow, poisoned death. This is why every day passes with a note of sleeping never to wake up. But then, every night is filled with dreams of life. Like a shady artist painting his thoughts on a shabby canvas, this crazy human self goes on thinking and feeling, sure it is self obsessed. Sudden shudders, may be thoughts are just illusions. It is fine, to let everything go, I guess. Let everyDAMNthing go. Who cares, none. Ultimately, wants, needs, desires, dreams, ambitions et al are best looking only in the process of achieving them, not ever after. Smiles, gloriousness is just a blink away.Fabulous. Confabulous.

P.S: If you do not understand, skip it right away, no compulsion. Ah yes, no explanations too. Thanks, if you have read it, highly appreciate your effort!:)