Napalm Cellophane and Night !

I was idle, laying on my bed battling the blues, staring the ceiling, staring into the darkness of my room trying to figure out depth of this jilted despair inside me. Something comes when you least expect it, so was this feeling of emptiness of this whole world has been depopulated and world being blue just with an exception of my windowpane which was colorless, perhaps like my thoughts, or your portrait on my wall that I have painted and your interpretation of me. Of me being.

I slept by the windowpane. A cool breeze touched my face accompanying me during my tribulations. I saw some blue cellophane paper lying there rejected, heartbroken. Cornered by pangs of unknown guilt. It’s mine now. I put it between my eye and the windowpane, and it led to my agent of antithesis arousing the anarchy of desires “I saw Shades of the night sky punctuated, neatly with stacks of clouds and pictures of you”. My current state of thought utopia was murdered and I was in parallel worlds in parallel far away dreams, Dreams in which anything true or conscious is blurred and I stumbled upon the “grey of an aged parchment on which I wrote something for you”. My existence and will all smudged by its over-powering trance and a million symmetric drops, trance that hold me puppet and Drops that kept piercing through my pretentious armors of self-defense and finally Poof! Vanished my conscience like my valor does in front of you when I need to tell you about how much I love you. Like Ovid, creating your metamorphoses, and searching for his Soul like a forlorn Shadow my eyes wept colorless tears, rivaling the colorless of the windows pane. Perhaps now I know what is that mark on the lonely crescent moon, tears that it wept over eons has dried there.

Endless labyrinths, Felling rising like Smoke in disturbed spirals towards an un-ending ceiling of capacious dome, I needed something to be liberated, resurrected. Oh smoke! The Mirror of Pseudo-braves and a paper because Sometime my tears look so much better on a page. While I decorate my messy desk in this unending dark night, dark of either kohl or burnt coal used as kohl (yes I'm jealous of that kohl that you use to darken the edge your eyelid because it taunt me within from your eyes),with sheets of tattered white paper written all over with your name and thoughts and drawn portraits  Can I tell what I feel ?

See through me
If you want, use a blue cellophane paper
But even he will not filer my love for you
Search for me
Reach out. I’m there, waiting
Tucked behind my demons,
Tangled in forget-me-not of your eye,
Tangled between the line of your smile
And some dreams of you
Watching rain, blue.
Thinking about you.
Waiting.

P.S - Just a curious Question . Do you prefer MESSY DESK or CLEAN DESK ?