Feisty escapades...

A godforsaken possession has played with achievement,
The chalice is still half empty though we'd like to believe otherwise,
Grievances have a tendency to tease a merry ambition,
When sorrows are flattered by goodwill...

Time imposes its imprisonment upon us,
Residents of the past try to usurp us back to their rather unfortunate world,
Even though you know you're too rigid for nostalgia,
Mediocrity has never failed to keep us under its wing...

The foster siblings of escapism never failed to unveil itself,
Claiming to be the unconventional cosmos of appeal,
The futility of ridicule is a subtle legacy,
The unrequited vengeance of my identity...

The strut of an Earthling is still mortal after all,
 Borne with colloquial charm,
The spurt of a fantasy,
Embroils and acquaints itself far from being strange..

The morbidity of a taboo,
Is known to evoke an unspoken desire,
Self mutilates a metaphysical possession,
Surging withing and lampooned by virtuousness...

The freedom of the mind,
Has got used to the trans-morphism of the world,
Watching our every move,
Still nurtures ignominy that occasionally provokes revolutionary thought...    

The coquettish reverie,
Always acquaints with procrastination,
Unleashes bona fide eternal wrath,
With arbitrary ambiguity...      

The girl with the array of screw-ups.

She's come back again, this time with a more stark form. She hated me last for deceiving  her and leaving her dejected but she decided that she'll offer me a second chance, kudos to second chances who are consistently waited for you to seize it and make the best of it. So the bitch of the mist came to me today and we talked about life, wasted chances, the way I over procrastinate, how my die has been cast and so on. The bitch of the mist happens to be a figment of my imagination who I've mentioned before in one of my earlier posts and  slowly have accepted as a part of my life, she comes whenever she wants and disappears into the mist whenever she wants. There are things she wants me to do on this extremely important year of my life,

She hates how I while away my time, she finds procrastination despicable,
she hates every bit of the chaos in my head,    
she hates regrets and hates when I have them,
she hates when I fail to live up to the expectations of fools paradise.

Here's what I hate,
Arbitrary rules,
 apparent last chances,
intellectual decay,
Perceptive success.
Openness and closeness,
The 12th year which is the most vital test.

Life as they say is very short and we don't come alive but then my lifespan is the longest time duration I'll ever see, that's what I know. Slowly within the last breath of a mortal, the neurons which is the very soul of a person disintegrates which is when everything ceases to exist and every self proclaimed legacy is wiped out.

"After the earth dies, some 5 billion years from now, after it’s burned to a crisp, or even swallowed by the Sun, there will be other worlds and stars and galaxies coming into being — and they will know nothing of a place once called Earth"- Carl Sagan.