Detour, rampant

Glaring images, assessing itself through condensed sound, conglomerate with the passable pictorials, slashes the psyche. Solidified sound lands with image, in contradiction with upper hand pictorials. Imminent pictorials, immanent, gets starved and thingified with contra-pictures, images. Journey, not yet begun, but half done. Roundabout ways, solipsism towards the road. Road must never end. Annals of back and forth motion, movement less. Loving departments of truth, is bypassed for truth willowing. Vacationing. Syndicated referent loves truth making. Procedural journey, love the truth machine, more the truth. Instituted no bodies’ passes in fast track. No conglomeration. Pictorial poets, their loving species, means no more. I tweet the con, peddler. He appears, bushy smile. Targeted syndrome. Necessity invents itself. The Orang Otang chemist. 2 bucks more for his alleged law-breaking trust. Guzzling. Feverish expressway of vomit. No painful luggage. Body elongates, time multiplies, then again body moves back to itself. It is the body which moves back and forth, miniscule time, is enlarged. Express ways are estimated comparatively. Down the way a mini lamppost, too longish to touch the height. Troubadour poets appear in a distance, lampooning each other. Market ways. I too appear, bypassing it. To whom? The henchman, slow-motion. No direction home. Local municipality, the dust producing bins. References elope with fast puke, flowing down. No more one than ever. Loving how me and myself step over crevasse. Many people many; each oversteps the other, only abysmal crevasse meet. Nothing nothings. I, the unnoticed emperor, the hidden truth maker of history, writes the already written, the signification of one amidst many. One and many, many and one, topsy-turvy in its stillness. Stillness overweighs. Object world collapses. The pandemonium in its sultriness. My hidden path, my schooling of tropical boredom. Sun raises itself. Not so gloomy, yet it appears more than a gloomy balcony, in the summer shade. Life’s costs reduced to a sham, as I can glimpse the trolley puller. Nothings, the costly boredom beings. A whole lot of eidetic consumed workingmen, merriment falsifies. Spectral Meta elliptic curves appear in my brain.

Jeet Bhattacharya

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