let me be...

If I may, That one instant when you wake up with a start a few hours past midnight, Let me be that tale shining through the crevices of your fingers. That one instant when moonlight filters through your eyes into yet another bright orb of your dreams. Just so that you know, I sleep less on my sides than more on my face these days.

Just so that you know, 
I'm greedy to dive headfirst into your head.

secrets of the universe

.We shall be, two stargazing narratives around a cackling fire..you and me, two independent galaxies maybe 

Of heavenly failures, and fears. 

A falling star shall trickle down your shoulder and winter nightsky shall breathe into my hair. 
Maybe, 

You and me. 
Two placid moons rambling about the silent skies

farewell

The metaphorical omnipresent ink blots on your office stationery, pale blue undertones in the placid, balanced silence, for you I'd be some of such firm unshakable facts. Be it your favorite Beatles song, playing inside your head in the same nonsensical loop, or your rugged laziness--which as a matter of fact is laziness all the same- or perhaps, pointless knowledge hoarded through the time, EVERYTHING invisible and yet there, can be me. I don't deny my absence anymore nor do I proclaim the the distance out loud. Fact of the matter is, be it those anonymous thumbprints on your glasses or the tiny missing button on one of your cuffs, proclaim my person. with a plethora of many such souvenirs there lies an unmistakable evidence that I, somewhere in the warm, cottonwool covered alcoves of your mind exist. That it is not just you but a little bit of me (an the uninhibited cliche) that I bid farewell at the airport tonight..

a process of means..

Forget. 
For one tiny fraction of a second forget your existance and take a form of something that is just a part of you. Be a silent, dependent appendage, a silent helpless witness of you on the better part of the great divide. 
A silent witness of you watching you grow.
Yes, even when you think you're not in the habit of growing anymore.

Observe.
Notice how carefully you exit one belief after the other. 
Like pods in concentric chrysalises. Breaking through one after the other.
Yes, right there, what you are now was never what you acquired on your own, rather it just shed a skin of its own.

So you can see, that the hatred was there for quite sometime. Quite sometime before it shed the veneer of faith. 
And surrender does lie there, patiently waiting for its own turn. 

Now stop.
Open your eyes, start existing again. 
Run your fingers through the tiny person shaped depression you've left on your bed.

Observe.
Like they say, the devil is the details. 
If you look closely you can find the bits and pieces of an older you lying somewhere.
You can almost sniff out the balance that you nurtured not long ago.
The balance that you just perspired.
The balance giving way to something ominous altogether.

You carry yourself as the biggest souvenir of the past.
Like, you know, vintage idiosyncrasies and collector's edition fugue. 

Breathe.
See the tiny involuntary movements of life.
Like a tiny alive, moving, living creature within yourself.
Like you within layers of you.

Close your eyes.
Stop existing for a moment there.
Now think of you as worthless dependent appendage of yourself.
Think of you as something you shall lose someday.
Just like that.