Wake me up when september ends 2

A touch – a shiver – of heaving breaths – of dripping water – along the bare skin – a whisper – unreadable – a pleasure – of unspoken words – of a silence that speaks – a love bite – butterfly wings; fluttering – the unseen reds – of a kiss – of curled up emotions – into the wilderness – a beckoning green – a tear – out of the corner of her left eye – a thought never spoken – but understood – a confrontation – a compromise – a hangover – called life!

The Marinated Backwaters of Memory



In the backwaters of life, of marinated love!


I want to be the hero’s only chance. The hero that’s just so sublime, within me. I want that hero to have no choice, but only ONE fixed destiny, take it or perish in its quest. On a lonely November midnight, I let the full moon burn, to burst into flames, in a vain attempt of a resurrection. A moment of glory has been my survival instinct till now. I yearned for that silence that none has heard till now. I have desired the undesired, but is it the undesirable?


What is life? – Life is water.

What is the motive of life? – To quench the thirst.

Why are we alive? – To drink this water.


About Dream Peddler

The author finds too many similarities with himself and the boy Calvin. Although a cold blooded techie, working with an Indian software MNC, the finer things of love and life fascinates him. Major portions of his work are about the things that inspires and pacifies. Politics and society too get a chance.

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