Nobody is black or white. People are always shades of grey.
The vulnerability of human mind.
The audacity. To hope. To dream. To yearn for a better world. A better self.
The audacity of dream. The audacity of hope. The audacity of dream to hope.
Rage. Outrage. Anger. Disgust. The happy moment when you pick up the newspaper and headlines scream ‘RAPE.’ Rape. Rape.
More rape. The sadness of that happy moment.
The chain of thoughts. A pathetic trip down memory lane. Lungs scream out loud. What’s going on.
The thought. Of what was right. Of what was wrong. Of what you did wrong. Of what you did right. The argument. With yourself. The reasoning. When you know you did wrong.
Blatant lies. To yourself. And then you curse the world. Too weak to accept your fears.
The blues. The red. The drowsy haze. The slow pace of time. Wish it would never end.
The words flow. You don’t know. Never bothered to care.
The craving. The lust. The hunger. The smoke. The thick grey haze fading into oblivion.
Oh! That thought of a piece you read some hours back. Oh! Those kids. Here there everywhere. Millions dying around you. Afghan. Iraq. The drones. Obama shedding some more tears to you.
But you just care what your boss will say tomorrow. Oh! Those tears. The stoic eyes. The one Photoshop can never hide.
Your lungs scream out loud, hey! What’s going on!!!
The redness of her pout disturbs you. Why aren’t you her? When you can be anyone in the world? Oh! Yes the world. The one which keeps moving. Yet you feel nothing. Peace. Stability. Poise. Gravity. Stability.
Only you know the turbulence of your mind. The grey cells mock you. High with the power to control you. You are weak. Alone. Empty. Void. And stoic.
More grey smoke. More smooth liquid. Heaven’s right here. So is hell.
Grounded back to reality, you are reminded all that needs to be done tomorrow. But the day’s not over yet. More grey smoke. More haze. Oh! That drowsy feeling.
Purple. Blue. And green. With a little bit of drums in it.
The day’s NOT over yet. The slow pace. The swirling pace. The heaven-ness of it, or its hell.
Hey! What’s going on !! Oh! The slowness of the pace. The time. Of how slow seems to be.
Everything else can wait. I want to dwell in this place. And make my own place. Oh! The grey smoke. Hazy and shapeless. And how it fades and falls, just like the grey cells. Falling with false pride.
Everything else can wait. Wait for the grayness. Wait so that I can dwell for just one more moment in this place.