Night bickering, clamouring for more dark rhapsody as if it is the end of line with love streaming from youtube. Hardly anything escapes gravity of night. While heart is never mending broken chard that was smashed a decade ago by the violence of night back then. Where love has gone? I wonder sitting in the reflections of a tube-light. It is with me there is a chance of getting mad with the verbose of a Bollywood flick. What a crazy wanderer seeks but the questions of life overlapping love in the fast lane. The poetry of night seems never ending game of embracing what was left the other night many years ago. The language of mockingbird is everlasting as if my lover is the bewitched mask of ages.
here I wear mask to unmask love,
the Spanish roulette now seems to be quite,
hardly a day passes without seeming reflection,
of all night spent awake,
for dream lasting as the last motion,
of a jammed film on the projector of life.