Insanity my refuge
The startling prettiness of craze
Tantalizing my concealed vision
And the desire to overlap beauty with the
Scorching sensation of inadequacy

Remembering those
Whose wide eyes and shadow dreams
And marble throats enigma
Love, or something like it

Fantasy and rainbows
Hoods and faces behind masks
Or were they faceless masks
The shimmering gowns, tissues
And bliss
Or life an endless alley to nothingness and utopia- the dreams painted in painful insanity

The tender touches vanish quite unexpectedly one day leaving behind no traces, the imprint remains strong in your psyche but the entire craze seems so unreal, like it never even existed and you keep probing quite unsuccessfully to reach out to those various myriads of joy or rather the relics that you think you will be able to preserve. Your first instinct is to increase your caution; your desperation takes a toll on your judgment. You are often exasperated at your callousness for letting it go in the very first place, for not trying harder than you did. After several attempts you realize that nothing, pretty much nothing is there to be ensnared in the unyielding darkness, you are exhausted by that time, which again makes you feel incapacitated, helpless often incomplete…… and this is precisely the moment when the vacant sigh escapes. The brutality of fate injects in you a venom so strong that it gnaws at your very existence… and that is when the tears start pouring out not due to pain, but merely to dissolve the numbness that threatens to engulf our very subsistence, to cease the process of our extinction…