I was run down an academic profile which was the beginning to my end.
My carefree report cards were testimonies of a someone who was in the making.
My hard-earned degree made me a no one.
Often, the filled out corridors would call me back to them.
The corridors where all we were, were infantile projections of an often forgotten world,
Trying to outshine each other at everything and sharing a soda amidst.
The redemption through free periods or in the culinary rooms was lost on us.
Maybe because dance and craft, and music and drama were just synonyms to a bleak end.
I rested my bones until I crossed the threshold.
The one which would ensure my farewell to the other half, to the right of my brain.
Raving and ramming into potholes,
What’s left is a dull hallway.
Luxury engulfs me now.
It is a sweet encore which I request every time the song tries to control its blare.
It is the melody which mutes every creative organ in my body.
And I listen to it every day.
My hands and my heart are two parallel demigods.
They fight each other passively.
While one works, the other watches over to make sure that some day the lost time is reminded as regret.
Faces crossing me on the street resemble no familiarity nor comfort.
Awe and anxiety are just about the two feelings I can feel when I’m not alone.
The measure of my success is now directly proportional to the distance I stay away from home.
Earning a living, and beading the beads, my fantasies are lived through superficial syndromes.
Surrounded by make belief fairies and unfamiliar roads,
Within full sentences and incomplete thoughts,
These are my old ways, my old words,
Because I haven’t had time to learn new.

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