sitting on the cloud of 99... or 88 or 76554219.... how cares what that number would be and who cares what would that cloud would be named.. am sitting on that particular cloud... a cloud that io made to myself by your hopes and dreams.. a cloud i designed to myself according to my my own perfection standards. ...
am sitting attached by a string.. a string that once connected to the leaves of the trees and wind patterns on an old deserted pavment in a lonely day.. detached from life.. lonely and despaired...a string that is now holding your name.,.. drags the leaves on the ghost of the small drops of wind's tears...
in an empty black.. surrounded by black those leaves stroll around my bodies existance earging for my soul to come down... she refuses and she cries ... and the at thhe lets go.. she leaves the string and the moves away.. the blackness around me scares me so think of you.. a reflection of my imperfectionate self..... that wired self that we chose unwillingly to call ourselves..
the walls would fall down and the darkness stays.. that only thing that stikes my blinded eyes is the edge that once refused me.. an edge beyond my reach .. and a tear away from my cheeks... the wolrd has no meaning anymore.. ...
the line stopes from merging with the line.. a pont has no existance anymore... and it refuses to define the space.. there i stand a definition of inner power i never had..and existance of bieng i nver asked.. there i stand again on that cloud ..th cloud that i came to know as the cloud of 99 ... well according to some political and economical reasons... there i reach with my hand inside of the opening that i found in my chest . and take a the bigleaf.. there i decide.. there i mutate.. a mutation beyond the elevels of organs.. beyond the horizon of the edge. there i close my eyes and mutate.. i mutate to a leaf.. a leaf for the rhythms of the wind
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