one monsoon morning

we will wake up

and levitate.

our feet are
the red of the earth
the earth and the sky
are the air we breathe
and we
are the fingers that hold
the silk of life

a river will wind
its way across my waist
and flow through your hands
like the evening breeze
through leaves of a young tree

the present shall pass.

where's when i was young, and we didnt give a damn...

its a day that redefines irritation. cant type. cant connect to the net. cant find a decent channel on tv that doesnt show reality crap. cant talk to people without snapping or biting their heads off. cant find people who do not provoke me to snap and bite their head off.

fuck.

seriously.

wrote poetry after ages. to give myself hope and actually felt better. but just before i could post it, the internet explorer gave up and the poetry was lost. i just want to cry or run away.