Dreaming idealism...Courting escapism...

Fears. Misplaced and rightly placed ones. Of losing people one has. People one loves. And they losing one. Of not keeping in touch. Of loss. Of the concrete as much as the abstract. Of farewells and goodbyes. And keep in touches. Never of course. Of failure. And competition. Rivalry rather. Constant races. To nothingness. Victory of losers. And the loss of success. Of losing out. Or not gaining. Same difference? What? and Why? Of misplaced items, things and people. And endless searching. Of moving planes. Of lost lives. Of being lost. Helpless. And hopeless. Of misplaced identities. Of not having one. Of worrying about the self. And of what people think. Or what they don't. And changing addresses. Home. And the smell of home. And familiar sights. And reassuring smiles. Warm hugs. And fond rebukes. Of dripping sarcasm. All in good humour. And food. Aaah! The constant chants. The quietened interiors. And clear minds. Jingling bells. Monotonous rhymes. Tuneless songs. And old stories. Grudges and regrets. Lost innocence. Mistakes and blunders. Of sharp words and bleeding hearts. Of hurting hearts. of the few that care. and will always. Of breaking them. And getting one's own broken. And picking up pieces. Of sweet friends. And ruthless words. All by one alone. Of constant cribbing. And the whining. All for nothings. And patient souls. Who bother to listen. And the few. Who slice through you. With words not knives. Of feeling lonely. And untouchable. Alone on the beach. With noisy waves and screeching crows. Only one in the room. And alone in a crowd. Suffocating silence. And forced talk. Forgotten words. Abuses and insults. Lingering dialogues. Unfinished conversations. Dinner table banter remains. Of parallel streams of thought. That gather into a storm. All in my head. Only to blow out. Over and over and over again. Of broken promises. Made and received. The cynical attitude. The cultivated stares. Formal handshakes. The careless shrug. The pain within. The lost friendships. Words dead on the lips. Letters typed out with nowhere to send. Words left unsaid. And the ones which were left standing. The endless taunts. Of one's own mind. The stolen minutes. Yearnings. For what? or whom? and why? The bribed hours of freedom. Daily quota allocations. Day dreaming and escaping. The fun and the futility. Claustrophobia. Building up within. And, thankfully, life goes on...