Scribbling:
Tragedy of
Wanderer:
“Blood! An
ever strong stimulant to keep one high, for, the worst part with other narcotic
is that they fade away sooner or later; leaving you in kind of vague periphery
of abyss where you do not know whether you are high or even if could act like
one. Blood! Its worthy of trust for it has kept us high for ages now and the
pleasure it had endeavored upon has by no means less than a never ending
orgasm. Ask them they would swear by it whole-heartedly. Oh imagine tasting it for once and being in a
state of trance forever. A state where you could scream right through torn
fleshes, broken bones, scratched veins; of those bodies lying in the open
drenched in mud or thrown in forests, to
draw out some more drops for yourself as souvenir. Souvenir, which would remind
you of that moment when you had your first encounter with the crisp taste of it
and you could never get out of its spell. If by any unfortunate tragedy you
slip out of it, how dreadful it would be, you will wake-up being alive and
stranded. Stranded on a piece of rock sinking in the heart of huge sea that
could bring the worst of fears hidden behind your skull, forcing you to scratch
your own nerves, biting out of numb teeth or to tear those drying skin atop veins,
veins, one which might be carrying several of drops that you had possessed as
souvenirs only to realize you are richer than anyone else, anyone ever can be
and in ecstasy you find yourself unable to stop your tongue to lick those
little red droplets, to not to let them falling in that horizon of salty blue
horizon only to be wasted forever, you must suck them back, suck them as they
are not your own but a souvenir, still… “
~ Praveen Parasar
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