the more you're attached to your narration of life,
the more you are missing the comprehension;
which indeed can't ever be contained or explained.
we are the derivative of energies and ****** up chunk of proteins, which doesn't want to be a part of anything else but you. '

you're the biggest cover to keep and you're the biggest secret to reveal, to not the very world but very self of yours.'
that's the fixture you do with narration, you never hold it; you give up on it but what you can learn is the comprehension.

An explorer lives within me, smouldering
Beneath the opaque layers of my being.
She is at once a soul herself
And an inseparable force of my own.

This explorer knows no limits,
And obeys no law beyond those of physics.
She entertains no fear, for she has seen
The Divinity of her existence.

Oh, how I long to let her run wild!

Tell me what you will do with those scars of pulls and pushes
from the infantry of madness
who marched towards
your collar bones and thighs altogether at once.

Black & white is a way to talk, a way to have conversation in, a world to travel in, a thesis to contemplate in, a kiss to taste so rare, an art too hard for a description, a language spoken by everyone in their own way.

-a mind is well deciphered in silence as same as fingers decipher wetness of a ****.-

- how silently, silence enters my mind as same as his hand enters a wet ***** covering a pulsating **** -

how every smoke liberates one thought into something or, maybe a chain of musings took birth. -

-how every smoke fingers my mind, while I'm busy in fondling the tales.-

-how every smoke tingles the imagination, while you're busy tasting me in my head.-

-how every smoke thrills inside, while you are making love to my lungs.-