Halogen tubes

Deeply penetrative obsolete cunningness. The tubes roll on as reminiscent apocalypse. Being with forgetting. Tubes are like monster’s mouth, chasing the cars on street. The road is the aluminium foil. Being begets in forgetting its ontical illusion. Life as mere cogital expression, being with for the obsolete admonished selfhood, inertia reigns. Who’s who kicked out the joker. Man rambling, order. I get the paisa. Bulganin sells halogen. Not of prior spring like entity, but Rip Van Winkle. Addict zone elliptical. They play the role of Rio de Janeiro. Sultry summer day, with no more stuff left. Timeized zone is shrinked to entity like being with for the boredom. We halted million years. With the timeized zone, the body too is breakable. Spaces are many. Oneness bifurcates with the plural. People looked foreign. Life likes to joke. Penniless with Cadbury stuff. Bitterness is swallowed for immersivity. Time is molecular now. It denotes many, with the manyness of body still. Some airy by passers, who would laugh. Who cares? I played the petty thief.Did I played the trumpet of the self? Sultry summer boredom. Millions of light years, the crevasse is in full flow, in ratio with the other of human earth, the planetarium afar. Man species is part of this wholesome illusive decadent worlding. Beyond that, there is peace. I think the pig. Loving the distillery, I lost a few coins, puked at the street camp. The dustbins showed the way. Dustbin, the crevasse hole. I could see the molecules in the pitch drum, Who plays the tin drum in Berlin? I play the penny whistles like Robocop, amidst the rotten soul of Nairobi. I forgave the new. Me thinkst of more modern than any modern city. The big city as whole of life. Man meets man, under the operative of galaxial order. The earth planet in its too small innuendo. Man loves to be at par with the beyond. There is still love. But the asshole sold me halogen pack.

Jeet Bhattacharya

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