The poet acts

I can hold on to a picture, a memory, a feeling that dissolves into a moment; I can recall a smell and people at their best; I can visit places I've been before in my mind and I can even relive the joys of the most alluring experiences. I can extract inimitable pleasure from day dreams; act like people have never died; search for B-612 in the night sky.

I can relinquish my sarcasm, my ideas and knowledge about human nature, my solitude, my peaceful mind and desolated heart; so that I can WRITE!

I can fool myself; prohibit excess to memories, previous conclusions and decisions so that I can feel the same way again .

I can be strong, I can survive, I can be calm while facing disappointment because I believe deep inside I know that all this is my imagination. An experiment I am performing on myself to distill the truth and to scribble. From the pain, the shivering, the heartaches and all; I am moulding the stories. Once the stories are written all feelings disappear leaving only ideas and my reason behind and from those I am reaching the facts.

I am lying to you all, when I can predict you. When I know how I want to shape the story and I need you to play your part. My morals rely on my definition of fair and I know you enjoy the ride too. You would not prefer the truth, trust me, you wouldn't.

I only torture a few people with my true self, a few friends of mine, for I really want them to see me for who I am and like me if possible and for I know they would choose the unsettling truth over a sedated mind.

I can laugh at the face of authority, responsibility, insult and lies; because I know truth is relative and none of it matters as long as I can WRITE!

I can survive as long as and only if I WRITE!

You may go now.