Respire

“It is supposed to be sequential, it doesn’t quite hit this way”, they say. But how can they not realize, you don’t lay out spaces for the muse — the sovereign decides for itself. Riding daily on the meaningless roads, getting no time for yourself. I don’t ask for it certainly. This soreness rises day by day, with every inch of money. I stop making sense, as anyone. That’s how things go smoother. I design, draw out, put stuff into it and then lure you folks into this ethereal bubble of mine. It lies in the unseeable spectrum of light and life. Even though some are kind enough to spare a moment looking at it. While some give a loud, silly laugh pretending they don’t have their own. Anyways I didn’t bother about theirs as they didn’t for mine. How colorless, tedious and evident this world would be if all junctures of life pass the same way.