I felt this edgy cold ice thrust in my feet as I gently clambered over onto the metal Railing, as poised as a funambulist is, on a piece of Tight rope.
My eyes rhythmically rolled upwards, hands lay outstretched to access the two extreme sides and legs roughly placed on the metal hold for the time being. I raised the broken Whiskey glass in my hand up towards the sky, very elegantly, like a prominent man, as if proposing a toast to the stars.
A shiny Golden air bubble at the bottom of the Grail glass slowly struggled itself free from an Invisible Dominance, rose upwards to the surface and popped, hopelessly.
I brought the glass closer to my face, almost touching my nose.
I tried to look Par the Golden Syrup into the clear night sky, through the Impetuous chaos of unruly bubbles rising and popping heedlessly inside the gossamer liquid. The golden hue of whiskey entangled with Deathlike Purple tinge of the Night Sky and created a spectacle of hallucinating images.
I tried thinking about the more important things than the current turmoil I was in, but instead kept reasoning why those Ambitious bubbles couldn't make their way out in one piece and always popped right at the surface.
To be a Mindless Freak and yet wonder anxiously about someone whose ambitious self has been lost, owing to the rules of nature, is a rather loathing Paradox in itself.
I too have lost and am Lost,
Lost the courtesy of being Human and
Lost in a mud pool of Reticence.
I squinted loudly back into the remedy of consciousness, the unruly bubbles started falling in place and the whirlpool of consciousness began flooding in.
To begin with, I am no man of elegance or honor, I am a lost utensil, a quivering speck of void that floats amongst the wilderness of commotion like a black hole that swims past the scintillating array of lights.
Devouring any resemblance and presence, Even the Present, dissecting the Past and Scrambling the Future.
(Giggles at the Science-tinged truth, of reality)
If only insanity and sanity ever had a distinct difference in this insane world where we choose to make our own reality.
I am a faulty idea of curiosity, I am a cause of myself and my being, and now, having lost the perceptibility of Things such as,
Realness and Vagueness,
The Truths and Lies,
The Winning and Losing,
My Cause is lost.
To begin like winners and to gain on the idea of success, I raise this Toast to the Winners of the world. I raise my Grail even higher.
My feet seem to have gone numb; I have been standing on the railing for too long now I guess, I think it's time to leave this matrix.
Towards the Winners of the world, I take a step forward. I can see Gliding golden Bubbles behind me as I zoom through the Air Particles, like a Bullet aiming for the sidewalk.
What a waste of good Whiskey!