When I get to the bottom 
I go back to the top of the slide 
Then I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
'Till I get to the bottom
Where I see you again
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well do you or don't you want me to make you?
I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you
Tell me, tell me. tell me
Come on tell me the answer
Well you may be a lover but you ain't no dancer
Look out!
Helter Skelter
Helter Skelter
Helter Skelter
Well do you or don't you want me to love you?
I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Baby tell me the answer 
Well you may be a lover but you ain't no dancer
Look out! 
Helter Skelter
Helter Skelter
Helter Skelter
When I get to the bottom 
I go back to the top of the slide 
Then I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
'Till I get to the bottom 
When I see you again
Yeah, yeah, yeah

this time.. this strange misty time between the advent of night and the departure of day never fails to enchant me.. like a whisper it descends on my hair.. like a dream it settles around me.. gently pulsating in its amber smoky beauty..and i can only reflect endlessly, nurturing a similar dream within, craning my aching head to look out  , and watch the colours on the water body, as the first fireflies start clustering around and time suspends itself around the trees...

I wonder if i ever really grew up, ever really stopped weaving fantasies around my head. Sadly these dreams are chipped now, from over exposure to the bad world, and it's like a too-old cup from the hills with the quaint image of a handful of clouds.

Dure kothaye dure dure..
Mon beraye go ghure, ghure.
Je banshite bataash kaande shei baanshitir shure shure.
Je poth shokol desh paraye udaash hoe jaye haraye
Je poth beye kaangal poraan jete chaye kon ochin pure...

I can't stop feeling like this because this is not what i want. What i want is to hear your voice. and I am trying too hard to be cheerful, trying too hard to ignore what I need, as a good friend calls and embalms my injury, i hurt a little more.

i created you impetuously regardless of time and place, i built you slowly guarding, wondering.
and as you bury your face in my hair, now, i am overwhelmed, as always. 

Why do i have to tell you everything, in super LOUD letters? Maybe you dint realise but you chopped up my heart very finely yesterday. I don't know how to behave. I am controlled. My skin's tightening with the effort. And I have a ball near my throat, real and illusory, and it aches dully, it aches shrilly till i sleep, till i drown inside the covers, sniffing dolefully at the familiar sleep-smells, trying to retrieve, trying too hard, i believe.

yes i have something to do, apart from listening to tones inside wires, adding another dog-ear to another yellowing, sweet-smelling page, apart from tearing up, scrambling fervently inside my head, ideating, eating, smoking, i can scribble, i can turn to polka dots my bubbling fury

So suddenly one day I decided to stay at home and nurture a weak gland.
Not a fictitious gland, not an illusion
So, say helllo post-it. say hello to dementia, say hello to a large large place
say hello to Drama.