I walk, I come across hard work, peace,
confusion. Where do I fit in? Thinks..guesses. Estimation is so not
true! Bwaha!
Traveler, gypsy. Perhaps I am. Getting
sloshed and meditating? Hmmmm. A combination odd enough? High on a
highway. Sounds me. I call up an acquaintance and bug him. Have a
drink, click. Sobers down. Impulse ticking.
Clock ticks. I prod.
I am in the class. La professour
wearing a fancy pink tutu waving a magic wand. She is hot. Class mates
sitting beside me in tailored suits and colorful cravats. Girls
shimmering in bikinis. I guess.
Clock ticks. I prod.
Can’t see the professor. I lean in an
effort. She teaches logistics, misogynistics, and multi awardee
musicians.
A jukebox is playing “Mrs. Robinson”
by Simon & Garfunkel. I transport into 1900’s. Woody Allen
film-noire. Thinks.
Clock ticks. I prod.
I see roads circling my class. They
lead me to future. They go high up. Can’t see the end. I feel a
bulge in my pocket. Its appears heavy. I fish out. I glance.
It’s my past.
I scream.
Siddhesh
Twitter.com/siddheshgarg
3 comments:
Clock ticks. I prod.
:)
some Shit ass writing... its high time you leave this and start doing something good!!!!
balls deres no stopping to his shit..oh btw he has 2 :p
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