Somethings...

No one cares for the monotony of typing through a word document, solving a ‘tough’ rated Sudoku puzzle is your only achievement in the last few years, the tubelights being blasphemous to the darkness you revere, the staircases only lead to the dinner table, and you need a jacket to save you from the summer heat. A blooming flower ends up being cabbage, when the ruptured amygdala blacklists all emotions. Wishing to collide, you collapse. Trained but not educated, spectacles cant become eyes, tensions strong enough to recede the hairline, all research and surveys correlate the unrelated. When cats and dogs signify romance, life being a characteristic odour failing the best and branded room fresheners. A wish to make water tasty, moral uprightness indicated by the photos of swamis on the cupboard. A portrait laughing at your drawing skills, and the cars only offer the back seat. When you are bad at golf without playing it ever, and the bulb brightens the darkness of the mole, a pen is the straightest thing you can think of, palm’s grip tested by a water bottle, transparent curtains too represent privacy. Dinner plates as Frisbees are a true test of catching skills, all balms cry for an ache and all toy marriages are everlasting, the best you use your hands is while opening the door, the last time you saw your own blood when you killed a mosquito. Not seeing the rainbow could be colour blindness, all whiteness is only a talcum powder. You wait for your moustache to grey to get matured, and health is not a measure of strength, good denture mistaken for a good smile and the chiseled jawline attributed to a road accident. A colourful blanket makes you a colourful person, a refusal to listen the heard, ceiling fans are a measure of height, you scratch your nails never to win a prize and a blank list of ‘things to do before you die’ , your secret sadness seizing your optimism.
A cataclysmic rotten conscience externalizing all the anguish, causing the violence outwards and the damage inwards.