Too many conversations I've had, the start of each one bringing in hope but discarded with discontent towards the end. It's the dissatisfaction that brings them to an end, not by me-given the chance, I'd go on possibly till i leave the other as disconcerted as me, but by the other party.
With the end of each day there's hope for the dawn of a new, more exciting and fulfilling day.
24hours is too long a time to bear the pain and yet too short to bring about any appreciable change.
As the perception from one sense grows dull, the stinging of the dream becomes ever more palpable. The pure chastity of the dream strong enough to shun the creeping worldly thoughts. Each passing moment in the meadow drawing me away from reality, it seems as if soon nothing will matter anymore.
My hands itch at the prospect of bringing to life what i can only see in the eye of my mind, but such desire is far from from sufficient to drive my mind from these ephemeral moments of sheer bliss. These moments have such a profound impact that it takes some time to adjust myself to reality once i return from the dream scape.
Its not euphoria or a state of absolute contentment, its just a state of blissful existence, oblivious to anything and everything. Emotions strong enough to cause actual physical pain surge through the veins.
The exhilaration of the moment bound to leave a mark, but never to be remembered.
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