PRODUCE OF BOREDOM

So it rains again. not all things seem good in second comings.
the emptiness of my house is inviting. there is a charm in being alone, in discovering known corners, in traversing the same length again. my mind throbs in silence. there is seldom pain, just a faint numbness brought on by the absence of a presence. books bring no peace, only despair, when(as someone rightfully said) the pages on the wrong side of the tome start thinning out. someone blows a conch in the distance. It only adds to my annoyance.
will someone stop it please?
then the music starts. the rain, the music,and the conch.
and a book that is about to end.
dum MAARO dum.
sad.
perhaps not.
the bell rings. An acquaintance. His felicitousness alarms me.
drenched, fat and happy. perhaps he has made peace with himself.
a smile.
i disrobe my vexations.
it is time to smile back at the world through gritted teeth.

addiction....

it seems like i have been drugged for life...
nothing seems to bother me anymore. the cold seems to have frozen my senses..
would the world offer a better reason to live.??
life is like a lake, it mite seem deep.. but jump; and bam!
u hit the bottom before you know it..
and i was hoping we could swim...