Energy is Eternal Delight

-- William Blake

Energy to me, is ... I.
Unquantifiable vigour, struggling to break loose, overwhelming my own self.
Outgrowing grief and dodging tough spots. Does all this verve help?
Sometimes it does. Others, it cuts you in halves, when you want to cry and all you could do is laugh. Could give anything to wipe that smile off your face and be able to cry, endlessly.
There's nothing that hurts more than the tears that only come up to the corners of the eye and then jab their way down the throat.

yet... energy is eternal delight 'coz William Blake's a dead Poet and i'm a nobody and still alive!

to Balakot
what it was and what remains...


"... Laut jaati hai udhar ko bhi nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhi dil kash hai tera husn magar kyaa kiije

aur bhi dukh hein zamaanay mein muhabbat ke sivaa
raahatein aur bhi hein vasl ki raahat ke sivaa ..."

Cerelac

Crayola

Barbie

Cremola

Pancho

Jubilee

kittens and balls of wool

spit fights

twisting the swings, then unwinding and savouring the dizziness

climbing trees to eat unripe apples

missing montessori teacher and sitting in montessori every morning despite being in kindergarten

vommiting every morning

falling off the swing and see the world go ROUND

eating chalk

jumping on mattresses

eating bunties, making believe they're medicines

losing the pieces of the jigsaw

getting the small motorbike rider to woo barbie

the ecstasy of running round and round in circles then falling to the ground

pretending to have long hair

acting out every story book

praying to become a doctor

asking God for toys

learning to tie shoelaces from dada jaan

sleeping with abba

having crushes

praying, praying and praying

heartbreaks

crying, crying and crying

moving on to more crushes

Val Kilmer

Airforce

Genetics

dada jaan

abba

and then life begins...

Irony personified

watercoloured backgrounds, fading away with time
finely chiseled statues, begin to lose their shine, as ends begin to chip off
satin gowns, ripped to shreds as the sun takes over the morning sky


... ashes to ashes, dust to dust

What pain may reap...

mera dard naghma-e- bay sada
meri zaat zarra-e- bay nishaan

mere dard ko jo zubaan milay
mujhe apna naam-o-nishaan milay

...

mujhe kainaat ki sarwari
mujhe daulat-e- do jahaan milay

... mujhe daulat-e- do jahaan milay

Procrastinate:
pro·cras·ti·nate ( P ) (pr-krst-nt, pr-)v. pro·cras·ti·nat·ed, pro·cras·ti·nat·ing, pro·cras·ti·nates v. intr.
To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.v. tr.
To postpone or delay needlessly.
[Latin prcrstinre, prcrstint- : pr-, forward; see pro-1 + crstinus, of tomorrow (from crs, tomorrow).]
pro·crasti·nation n. pro·crasti·nator n.
1: postpone doing what one should be doing; "He did not want to write the letter and procrastinated for days" [syn: stall, drag one's feet, drag one's heels, shillyshally, dilly-dally, dillydally] 2: postpone or delay needlessly; "He procrastinated the matter until it was almost too late"


Dictionary Hareme Sumble

Procrastination:
Being obscure and unreliable. Disorganised and relentless behaviour. [Syn: Lying, deceit, cheating, hurting, killing your own offspring]




Conclusion

Hurt, numbness, pain beyond words could ever describe...




... silence.

As it all just slips away from your hands, you just sit there watching it dissolve in the mist of time.

Men are nobody.
I don't like them.
They are like corns under your feet, they begin to hurt a little into the journey, ending up hurting you more than you can imagine little pieces of skin can be capable of.
Women only tolerate creatures as outrageous as men coz they're the absolute father figure. They father their kids.