That Strange Feeling

“It was like the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that I cannot express in words.
Like somewhere, very far, away far from the city and away from the villages. Somewhere no people reside. Away from all the civilisation and society. In a place where the sun blazes like a furnace.
Where there are only dead mountains standing, with no life in them. No spider, no crab.
The ocean stretches but no fish and hence no man. Just an empty barren piece of burning brown earth. The pernicious winds penetrating the languish mountains.
The sound of falling rocks, clattering against each other. But the dead remains dead, and all that resides is nothing, all that hears to those screams is emptiness, and all the bears those winds is silence.”



A nothing grazing my head. The sound of silence absorbing into my ears. Like buckets full of water, I feel frail and heavy.
The trance of black taking over and feeding over my emotions, digesting my ability think or even feel.
I feel like I am letting go. Running off, everything. The fear of loosing set far, not a shadow to be seen. Just emptiness and the nostalgia of the want of feeling nothing is taking over. Engulfing me as a whole, mouthful.
Thoughts getting paralysed and affection getting choked. Body getting numb and eyelids bearishly heavy.
Words draining off my core, leaving the surface and letting go. Like they never grew on the barren platform.
Don’t know if it’s the same, or the ability to deceive my own self. Not about me, not about nothing but the argument.
The argument between the want of being stranded and the feel of being wanted.
Choice being material, or being eternal. The argument now making my numbness go, unwontedly.
Harder I try, farther I loose,
To the material than eternal. The argument never ending about absolutely nothing I can do.