Psychedelic Slippers

Been a year. I came from a Pond. a tiny little Pond. my Pond you could say. I 'd been there for a long time. Well u don't exactly count days in ponds, ya but long long time. I was born there i guess. No one remembers where they were born anyway. But i was born in Pond. It was huge then, though its tiny now. We lived in West-End; me, mum-dad, and yes my brethren.When we were kids we would swim all over west end, me and bro. We'd explored most of West-End. It had a tiny ridge, that was our favorite hangout. Me n my pals would go there after school. When i was older i was sent to the big school at Central Spring. I hated to be away from West-End. But then i fell in love with Central Spring nevertheless. Here's where i made a hell lot o friends and we roamed the whole of the Pond. The Pond was so huge and beautiful. You could swim whole day and never tire of it. There were these beautiful sea-weeds near the Loop. The loop was this nice lil place where there were these hug...

In a coffee shop in a far-off place, lying on your bed flipping pages ...and then you are on a swing, though you still etch footprints on wet roads; Singing songs to the birds that have well slept by now, chirping in their dreams, you wish. ...and then back to a limbo, that fills the spaces between!!!

so let the engine roar push the pedal down i want the white lines on the highway to lead me out of town... ....the wanderer craves

first shortlist all the possible guys you can fall in love with (these would be based on various social, intellectual, monetary constraints). then strike off those that don't meet your choices of physique( some love apes, some giraffes) then those that have already been baited (unless you are bitchy enough to chase somebody else's guy) then you have a bunchful of guys left that can be baited. now each of these guys again would probably have a list similar as yours. and then if you are in his list, and he in yours you have a fair chance of falling in calculated love. then you bait and wait. well if you aren't then you gotta use other tricks and bribery. tips on that are well beyond this post. and then there's the other way... where you just plunge on gut feeling. where eyes meet and there are butterflies and fairy tales. while most emotions can be broken down... how do we break love into sets of likes and dislikes? u either love somebody o you don't. like, dislike o ...

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask ...

the inability to think would be a curse you d say, but then thats just the tranquiliser you need, to stop it from exploding. to freeze out the thoughts. To not feel... to not feel your own self living like something you hated, loathed, despised. Something you lived against. To not feel yourself "living" the way life meant to you, or to not even find "life" holding the same "value". to give up life as you knew it for a life the way its presumed to be, just for something thats supposed to be revered above all.... but then you do think, and you cant stop thinking, and that's why being a presumptuous careless bitch is much easier

she stared at the infinitude that stretched beneath her feet, the endless blues that gave wings to her dreams and the promises... promises in sand, promises on the ripples, promises to the dawn... promises to herself; promises of a way a life would be, would be lived, would be felt... and then the confessions, confessions of deep desires, and then the waves resounding the voice back. the voice that made promises, and promises to keep them. he stood by her silently, not wanting to disturb the tranquil figure that stood defiantly in the gushing wind, teasing it with her fragile strength. a fresh gust shook her, he drew closer, sliding his fingers between hers. she smiled. ...the promises, the promise of love, of a life together, of a home, of adventures, of a companionship to be forever. she leaned back on him, he wrapped his arms around her. she smiled back at the sea... a weak smile, one that acknowledges a defeat even before the onset of a battle. " I love him" she whispered...