Thursday, September 4, 2008

To the dead, the shocked and society presidents

J'ai du faire toutes les guerres pour etre si forte qu'aujourd'hui,
J'ai du faire toutes les guerres, de la vie, de l'amour aussi...

Cued recall... Phonlogy...Nano...
Deadlines... Lines where the dead can't move further on...
You know what Mister Nakata! I ain't gonna idle away so easily. It's not really hard to see you die. Not even Mister Kawamura whimpering away can tickle my senses. But then there are others who die! Others whom you actually care for and latently, patiently wait to brush past again so that you could glance with big dark eyes and start wobbly talks of lilies and rhododendrons. They just happen to be dead one day when you come asking for them and trust me I can't tolerate such abrasive divine murders! I know there i a wall. See my head red swollen, eh? It's that sore mark from banging against it! I am almost tired of wandering around asking for these lost people in some nocturnal alley. All there is, is hope, some hope borne by shock against limp, rotten bodies. Psst... I have an idea and I'll beat that grim of him/her this time. There just has to be a device by which i get a minute in time. I will trade it and tell those dead what awaits them. They may not heed me but Mister Nakata, even you spoke of leech rains and no one ever believed you! Can't i just get one minute more to see them in action? Argh, I know you can't, the devil of your son! But watch it, it's an a priori that there is a way to shake these slack puppets. Even you, the stubborn KFC colonel! Dispose them before they decay. The deal is to bump into this obstinate guy called "Good God". HE is a bit slow it seems. Pha! fools of faith should be resurrected and not buried with a pinch of salt. Incite him and provoke his inabilities. Not that this positivist harangue will churn results but the tramp of me is cross today! Yesterday i howled and wept to the sea and then looked at the blank sky. My problem is that it is an anticlimax! At least i am not gonna wait for a bus to crush into me and puncture my ribs to powder. The clock's ticking away but my time has not come... A fraction of a second to experience shivers down your spine, body disintegrating to screws and bolts.

To the speechless, thus spake the fatalist! Away ye idiots, run till you want it yourself.
To the shocked, Come out of the melancholic inferno. You are still on earth and hence stop the mummy game with gothic look.

To the naive... A tear, gaping wide, a smirk... a yell from other way and we are back on track, though puzzled a bit too much.

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