dear one who still keeps her king in the back row

n' the reason i might sound an offbeat poet for a while is only because that's how i sound when i'm in the realms of hopelessness... n' do i have to raise my finger to point at you... to let you know that "you're the one" who has victimized me oh so deeply.. that i never want to get out of this sickness? ..n' now it's left to you... how you take the you-are-the-one part... you become the accused if you take that superficially.. n' you become everythin' else includin' the accused.. if you take it a little more deeply!!! in either case... you remain responsible for my condition!!!

n' so my childhood had got nothin' to do with fairy tales if your want of knowin' me inside out is still on... the reason is mostly left unknown to me.. partly undisclosed.. but i never liked the way it rhymed so well... not that i had any ill feelings with rhymes... but maybe my parity with indulgence on worldly acceptance of most matters like the way they should have been was highly restrained.. n' i'm not quite sure what the last sentence really meant.. (but sounded cool huh?.. n' who knows.. must have meant somethin'.. maybe exactly what i wanted to!!).. so don't feel dumb if you didn't understand it.. your status of dumbnesshood has got nothin' to do with it.. it's way too independent n' fairly intact!!!! so it's firmly established that i didn't like them.. even with or without satisfyin' your immortal thirst to conquer all the why's even if it's related to my neighbour's wife.

i like stories without any rhymes.. the ones which are thoroughly stupid. i like them because it reminds me of all my dreams that i had of a girl... my girl. n' she's so hard to find.. n' even when i get her.. i'm so sure i can't get enough of her... she's like so lesbian.... that i can never turn her on... n' if you think it's depressin'... then better don't think at all. i'm not depressed. she wants to grow fat.. yes you heard it. she believes thighs aren't thighs at all if they're not equipped with lumps of flesh... n' she thinks her ass is the only precious thing she has got. her memories from the past makes her a cold blooded bird hater. obsessed with names people might think of her.. i'd say she's just obsessed... n' when she's not obsessed... she's obsessed with names. her monkey she sleeps with... the eggs which had fallen in her balcony.. the bike she rides so awfully... the fish which died sometime back... her last week's diapers.. i mean all have names.. all thought-about-over-n'-over-again kind of names. she wants to marry a tamilian n' yeah.... she wants to think i'm gay.

i mean yeah.. a thousand words can't say what a picture can... but a lot few words can draw a thousand pictures n' a simple math would prove they'll say more... the description was word perfect if not picture perfect. n' the hardest part is the waitin' part... because she's always busy in her plays n' the rest of the time... she takes exams.. she's still takin' one when i've none to attend!

descriptively yours,
....