The smoke in the air smells bizzare ,the euphoric sensation she has. She smokes her weed with a delight.
The mirage of her broken dreams haunts in her nightmares . It was just an illusion of what she had."Death clinging her crystal meth" Thoughtless perplexed she sats in pensive mood . She had been going through since past lapse of time . A "thing" tried in "trial" had become her latest "obsession". Was it the past that haunted her ??
To her agonies in disguise . She appeared a head strong glamarous lad. Yet inside she was broken underneath .
She beagan her ritual trial. The counts of weed increased . Recently from her onset journery on the ganges ghat. She would go into a spiritual insight. She would wander and wander said something to herself . Was it the intoxication that weed poured into her. She kept murmuring it as the sages recited ."The wound is the place where light enters you". She lied on her bed in a perpetual pity. She would be lost for words then .She knew it was long coming back .
It ain't she had tried coming back .But to the mercy the oblivion triggered her veins.
A sudden startle would made her sadden . She could not be happy in gaily times. She had better become her worst.
Death clinged her.