I can feel tears swaying, dancing, mocking and being,
struggling to leave the ghetto,
overpowered by my destined desire,
my hopes rule the star ridden space.

smoking the elongated tube of the brown trash,
staring at the sky, penetrating the ash,
I salivate over the height, liberalizing my thoughts,
superfluous freedom comes my way, random but rash.

The road to perfection guides the blind,
errors and mistakes strewn around, you enter a world of another kind,
power is internal, wounds afresh all the time,
understated is the power of soul, invisibility being prime.

You bleed and die and get up again,
you see and believe and ignore the same,
you laugh and mock those dead saints,
but they are the ones who climb the highest trails.

I breathe in the silence, breathe out the conflicts,
I tread on an incessant circle,
Flying and falling complementing my movement,
I crawl and crawl trying to captivate the essence of life,
I look at my hands, still empty, like the end of the cigarette that remains.

The light is gone but I continue to blink,
the space around me expands but I continue to shrink,
but something still oscillates around, all said and felt,
Pulsating through what is dead, its my immortal self.

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