{Of all lies, art is the least untrue - Flaubert}

Monday, June 20, 2005

In Vain

The senselessness of being numb, numb to highly incisive personal pains and laughing to the pleasures that don't belong to you, keeping eyes, as they are seeing the world that has tormented you for long, not touching the torment a bit, always trying to get into the darkness of shivering bodies, never able to get into the shiver, catching up with the race of being and losing the sense of being, always flirting with life, never making love to it passionately, always searching for an illusive silver lining, never the enormous cloud, searching something to be happy about, to smile at, to open your heart with, to smell the flowers of past, to dream about the ones that will never bloom !

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