Round and round

It's so odd.I feel something is wrong,in an intrinsic way.This seems to be an odd way in which the world goes round.The self-righteousness of all the fakes and the glamour behind power,and that too not the real power but a pretense to it,makes me sick to the stomach.

What drives you,O little miserable cripple
flashing the stained whites
of remorseless acts and raped intentions
alas you exist and won't die
And round you move,in skewed orbits
senseless,drunk in misery
for how long will the forces hold you
for how long oh for how long.

Love letter.

The terrible aftermath of happiness.Why should it always leave a bad hangover.Nothing like the intoxication of some good wine;more like the aftertaste of some cheap cocaine.or a badly made food for that matter.How I want happiness to last and how easily it slips.And in its wake makes the already ugly reality seems all the more deserted.A soft flowing memory comes to me.But it isn't even a memory--a dream rather.Of me,my love and world.Our world.And then maybe there wont be too much of a need to hide.The sense of desolation out of being different would be lost and so would the novelty.That would be a good tradeoff i'd say.And once all the anger and fear is lost,we..me and you and all of our kinds can be ourselves.I like to smile,you see.Not the fake plastic smiles,but smiles of something to celeberate.a victory possibly.but victory thats not a culmination of some ongoing pain.A victory of happiness.Happiness as a state of being.We will reach there,my love.we will.