Smell

What is it to lose respect for one's own life? Is it an overwhelming desire to end it all? Is it a mere wish to change things?...
Why does one love someone so much that one desires to stay and wait?...Wait? For what? We draw a blank...
We all want to be free (forgive me if I'm generalizing)... free from the shackles of...what? I think I keep all sorts of birds in mys self, tagged, clipped and medicated...wanting to set them free but never actually doing it...we all have our birds...
I didn't know that birds had an olfactory map that helps them find their way and then back all the way reversing the process... But it rains all the time so my birds never find their way...it would wreck havoc in their sense of direction.
Why is it that a bird dropping is cherished as 'To Life'? It gets tougher and tougher as one wishes to set the birds free. At the same time there is this feeling that they are tame.
I never approved of my father's hobby of caging birds. I used to see them lying still with their legs facing the barred rays of light or simply dozing off to death in their rotten cages. They were replaced by new birds and antibiotics to keep them alive. I had always wished to set them free but Bapa would explain how a stupid attempt of mine would result in their being killed by the bigger birds like crows and eagles...another confusing pattern of one bird killing another...

My thoughts are branching out...it's late at night and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to follow the paved cobblestones of my thoughts as they turn into narrow lanes and bylanes...branching, meandering... twisting and getting contorted in their own confusion...
From birds to thoughts... my thought process is no longer candid. It's filtered, distilled and I don't know what else.
You should never depend on your dreams and should not allow the dreams of one to enter that of another. I tried to copy a butterfly on a piece of paper but it seems too fake to even give it a try...I did give it a try though...seems like I was bullshitting all the while.

Treason

There it starts...another chronicle springing from the desire to write something that transcends all wonders in the world of literature... (stifled laughter)...well, a facade actually...a treachery of words and feelings to be precise... a craving born out of sheer boredom.