Pleasure of being myself

You know paradise?
It sticks out in unforgettable pieces of memories
like a thorn
painful yet curious.
Cautious.
I am not sure of what endlessness am I looking for.
I think I find divinity in continuity.
I stop not further than the edge yet I am still scared of heights.
I lost any will to live for anyone. I lost any will to please.
I hung by a strange road looking for strangers with strange wishes. Just so I could fulfill them.
I crept up in people’s lives without notice and by chance and decided it was time I would drive them.
And then I left, as I came – unsolicited, underestimated.

You know paradise?
In crooked interpretations of life, somewhere we stop lying.
It sticks out in moments of pure honesty, commanded for dramatic effect – and shedding a lot of people.
Twisted lovers in bedsheets crying foul at not getting everything they want. “Waiter, tell the chef he should throw in his apron! I dine out only to complain about how I could do it better myself!”
Fuck you. Your life lived with concessions when you please.
Fuck you. Your pleasentries and forgivable moments of vulnerability.

You know Paradise?
In the moments of clarity lived with automatic men and women. Trouble Trouble Trouble You. Me. Let’s shake it up baby now. Twist and Shout.
Ao Twist Karein.

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