The Hunter and the Hunted.

There's a time when you sit down and think, it doesn't matter that you're thinking about, what matters is, whether you're responding to your surrounding and the environment or not, while your lost in those thoughts. Deep while you're drowning, those sensory nerves of yours are picking up scents, signals and radiations, both positive and negative. You're entire life is affected by the way you sense things. Sixth sense or not! You know that your life has many vital atoms in it. These atoms make up the rain drops as they hit the surface of your skin, they form the cold breeze when you walk out your front door and above all they create those moving live bodies of flesh around you.

You know, once and for all we decide those human bodies are meant to be there, as without them no theory can be bought. But then there are people who form the most important part of your life, yet are a cause of making it the specified non worthy and unwanted part, a side without which you would prefer to exist, as they make you feel uncomfortable both from the inside and the outside. These are the parasites, who would stay by your side for the sole reason to fulfill their needs as long as they can, leaching off everything they want, by fair or unfair means, mostly you wouldn't be needing them, but ironically they are amongst the bricks of the important wall, remember? Yeah, so when one reaches for them, one realizes that the hand which stretched out to be held, actually just stirred the empty mass of hallucination.

The faces have every bit of delusional innocence which has nothing what so ever to do with their hypocrite minds, minds which are diverted from one track of thinking to another by complete annexation of the third party which takes over their thoughts and their evolution. Faces which are covered with smiles like those of the parrots which coordinate with the bagpiper's instrumental black magic. Those bloody fake smiles, making a fool out of you. Making you believe that they are meant for your soul's enjoyment, in contrast to which they are actually nothing but phonies. Imitations of art that are meant to delude further of your minds. Smiles which are meant to screw the heck out of your trust. When revealed are nothing but complete acts of phony.

But what about the eyes? Do they lie too? No they don't. The fiends that lie behind those eyes are always detected by true searchers of trustworthy souls. The searchers whose hearts are over flowing with the desire to gain success in building their own Utopians. Their search begins through the eyes. They validate the brows at first, the bends in them, the curves, the twists, the turns, the frowning ones and the calm ones. Then the pointer moves towards the eyes. This target leads them to the conclusion of their search.

All in all we are always surrounded by people who matter and the ones who don't. After every trial we return home, take of our shoes, stretch our arms and legs, and relax, as if the term really exists. Lie down, close our eyes and fall asleep with the hope that maybe in the morning, may be when the sun rises and may be when we open our eyes again, we might get an answer, we might succeed in gaining that one person we want, that one human we desire, that one soul we want to draw out to our satisfaction.

Those Three Days

Maybe it’s not necessary for us to have everything we want, no matter how much we push for it sometimes ironically destiny doesn't favor the brave or even the feeble. People around us feed upon our reactions. Why provide those parasites a source of pleasure? Maybe, it’s just us who are wrong. Maybe Hardy was totally right, when he believed that our fate is in the hands of an evil power that never lets us better ourselves. But what about others then? Do they feel the same way, when it comes to them, like we do? Only if they understood, only if they felt what we feel, only if they were able to bring out the best part of us, but aren’t we alike when it comes to understanding? Tempted by our demons, flourished by the lies we feed upon, living our lives as if nothing matters. How far can we go, without the ones we love, without the things we love and without the theories we believe? What about those regrets we reminisce when we look back in time and see how we have messed up our lives.

Suddenly, they whisper in our ear “mark my words, lies are everywhere, refine your search and nurture your site through discrete optimism or not”, could it possibly be true? What they said, what they whispered instead. Could it harm our ego? What if we were able to love forever and what if we weren’t? What if we taught someone how to love and what if we taught someone how to live?

Learning that you’re different from others is easy but realizing it is an uphill task. When losing the ones we love or the ones that loved us once, a thought strikes the key note of the plot of our life, we discover that all we went through was for nothing but disenchantment. We hear them once again, “You’ve lost the war. Who cares? Prepare for the battle”. What if we were unable to fight the battle, what if we had already lost everything a long time ago? What if the spell has been caste already?

But then again loyalty is repaid with disillusionment too, isn’t it? Turning back the pages to the draft pad of our conscience, there exist those differences which we created. This strangeness itself is bizarre, the demons laugh, oh well! Maybe it’s just the way we were socially conditioned when being socialized. We pause, continue and then pause again. Trying to figure out every fucking time we confront damage, maybe the hatred has been injected by our own loved ones, deep under the skin right into our bones.

The guards are up, we can’t let anyone in now can we? Weren’t those three wonderful days better then the regretful life we’re having now, acting strong, being tough, hurting more and more as life brings us closer to realities, avenging people, killing feelings and making others believe that we are worth nothing but gnawing ginger. The answer to the entire smoldering thought of ours wouldn’t result in an ecstasy rather it’s better when left unchecked. They didn’t say “fail and forget” they said “fail and revise”, which is why we leave the thought to flourish for a little bit linger, to seek an answer which would satisfy our soul someday, when figured.