my fishy feeling

music-Hysteria, def leppard
i feel like being a fish...a dainty ,radiant and thin one with a bushy tail, more desirably orange in colour..or maybe my desperateness that would compromise being an ugly one,would still do i guess.
living in a grand aquarium all on my own.. moving swiftly in the water...wagging my tail ....
naming myself 'shieks' hehe.
i want to noe how it feels like to be a live water animal...
i want to feel what it is like when people gather around me and look at the way i move gently ,i stop ,i stare and move swiftly in the water ..even though this might feel similar.
my water .
sooner or later a face comes as ..it does inevitably and stares at me ..long and hard....he would stick his face and stare at me..knock my house and shake my water...big eyes that will try to scare me ,to trouble me .
it could be for FUN.
but i noe that it cant reach me,it cant touch me...it cant hear me..because im safe there..
there are no alarms and no surprises.........................................only peace and water and me


I think

music-karma police,radiohead


people dont change...they simply dont change....things dont change...

its funny...

..if you ever thought you could fix it and for all the dumb reason you felt its ok.....in the end you realise that you cant...you simply cant and it is seriously not ok...

so just leave it..:) leave it to die...and if it doesnt die on its own...just kill it...


The Man with Doors..p.s and windows also

she sits on an orange seat of a white bus having red words scribbled on it.she looks out of the window and feels the warm sunlight on her face slightly hurting the eyes .she is doing everything that she is not comfortable with ,strange things and dissimilar situations are exciting her ,some strange sort of an optimism and something turning out to be a celebration has engulfed her mind.
the mind sometimes should do things that it doesn’t like doing and do stuff tat it never thought it would do because that poor thing is like a confused knotted thread that gets sorted on its own while we were busy cutting it with a scissor .

the wind kept blowing her hair and people kept making her laugh ...the sun cooled down and she slept sitting there .she was dreaming .
she dreamt about love .
love can never be far or close ,love doesn’t travel …its simply there when u want it to be there and disappears when u want it to, when you pretend that it has gone, unluckily also when it runs away .
she thinks that she has no reason why she loves him because the real reason was like a door that never opened before.
it was a tiny door and she couldn’t see it before
Her man had doors…she couldn’t count.
Some she knocked and some were open,
Some she kicked,
And some got broken,
Some he opened and some she opened
Walking in and out of them every single time..sometimes with a strange guilt and sometimes with inexplicable pleasure.
Bunch of happiness and sadness sometimes.
When she didn’t walk towards it ..he came …and love was in the picture somehow.
And she got scared of it somehow.
Love is the opposite of power that’s why people are scared of it and sometimes it does drive you crazy ….but craziness is basis of fine relationships.
The doors where not numbered….Fate took her to them and this whole process seemed beautiful to her because then, her love acted like a disinfectant when she was hurt , ice when she got burnt and fire when she wanted to be burnt .
For us time dies when we die but she believed time does die momentarily, she could feel it dying …slowly her legs ached to walk..she travelled from city to barren land…on bridges and then the deserts …in a day she felt the hot sun , the cold wind , the thundering and drizzle in the desert ..the wet sand the dry soil ..the sweet water ,the salty water…the music the dance
Everything she felt untied the knots and she could see the tiny door now
Her legs ached to walk anyhow but she preferred sitting somehow.


there are some days without a smile