I flip my chappal up in the air
with the tip of my toe
and wonder at the uselessness of the moment
a little nostalgia
and the fundamental question
catch up with each other
incoherence
and of course something i don't understand
bundle up together to form a pillow
i dream of an adrenaline rush
at the cost of speeding at full might
and my sleep ceases to be sleep
i wake up to find a few ideas
sitting on my heavy eyelids
making it painful to see the details
Then? huh then nothing
i just look outside
wear my glasses
and ponder at the clumsiness of each slice i cut
Humming a tune I can't recall from where
And its only then it occurs to me
that the book i was reading last night shut by itself
and i was still in it.
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