Telephone behind a glass partition

I am returned

April 17th, 2008 Roshan Posted in Me |

He is returned, quietly, to the land that he ruled. He sneaked right back into his throne. It is the throne that makes the king, not the man. A golden throne, coloured garishly in the style of those trying hard to get attention. Yeah, gold looks ugly. I said it. You all thought it but played along. I said it. You know, like the kid who said the emperor had no clothes. I’m like that kid. He is returned, and no longer a kid.

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He who was busy is no longer so, or so he thinks, for he is certainly not making an effort to do anything more than convert himself into a bumpy bed cover. Don’t ever ask for poetry when I’m sleepy, it won’t be in English. And it won’t be real. Not tangible atleast.

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If it hasn’t struck you that the above is absolute gibberish, I’ll follow it up with some brilliance. I have this plan to build a giant city called Psychotropia. Inside will be all sorts of sweat shops of sizes and colours unimaginable. Think of it as that carnival where you send drug abusers to work when they unwittingly walk in. You know, that carnival. Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Yeah.