I want to write those words,

the ones quoted for years and years.

Words to live by.

Words to get by.

Words that would make you wonder.

Words that don’t usually go together,

but work in perfect harmony when played in my tune.

Words that open doors,

Words that widen horizons,

Words that make tinted glasses transparent.

Words that make jaws drop.

Words that make eyebrows rise.

Words that paint intricate pictures on the mind’s canvas.

Words that personify the sheer infinity of the imagination.

Words that will make you see my vision.

Words that will make you hear my thoughts.

Words that will make you speak my mind.

Words that will make you feel my soul.

5th Nevember, 2010

"Remember, remember 

The Fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I know of no reason

Why the Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot."

Poof!

He sits there in the corner of his room. The walls red, to match the colour of his mind. His eyes follow suit.

He holds his refuge between his fingers. He takes it in, his breath deep as the ocean, not a smidgen of space in his lungs. He holds it in, lets it penetrate through his blood, run through his veins. Lets every cell in his body feel it.

Then, just like that, he lets it out. A cloud of smoke engulfs him. On every cloud, he floats higher and higher.

His mind changes colour. His eyes forget to follow suit...