Guilt

Okay, dearest Darkling Thrush,

I have been a little too unprofessional, in terms of sticking to an unspoken protocol of alternate Yell(ow)s.
But, considerate arent you? I ripped the insides of an already empty cranium to come up things Imagination would be proud of. If only, that extended to writing non-medical too. Thats in the realm of sighness and bitter truths. Lets not even go there.

Its 4. I rant. I ramble. Rat-tle. And maunder.
Ptosis blurs what i write. Excellent excuse for coming up with the kind of crap, sadly, only i am capable of.

So,
lets breathe,
do a system reboot.
Good we do back up
(read, i read all your messages on the phone since the past month).

How have you been?
Now, you asked me that first.
So,
i have not been that good, horrendous exams notwithstanding.
i have not been that good, because...
narcolepsy has set in.
paranoia has happened off.
rani pink in all her glory has been a bitch, (with 'ulcerating teats, psoriatic skin, upturned-pudgy nose, wobbly knees and an i-define-loser attitude'.)
(Glory reminds me of a Dynam teacher in school, stout, fat and dark, who would struggle in heels and, like coincidence would have it, wore pinkest-of-pink lipstick)
(Used to hate her)
(there, she plagues even now; distracting and giving rise to unwanted shudders down an already ill spine)

Suffice to say, i have not been good.
And you know why.
As if innate pissedoffness were not enough, i had to augment it with reading a few blogs. Something i had consciously avoided.

Like on self-destruct mode, i did.
I did.
And i regretted.
Specially when there were flighty statements made about executions and Sammy foreign policy.(Sammy's dreamland saaku, makha.)
And then i read mine own.
Crescendo happened.
Full on, with sweeping violin choir going hysterical. The cellist's hand is a blur.

So, my own form of silly catharsis i desired.
Hence i purge.
Here.
(If you say, the toilet was a better option, i will actually laugh real hard)

.
.
.

And now, i have to come up with why i called this piece(of whatever) Guilt.
Lets see.
Hmmm.
Ho-hum.
Hmmmmm.
Hmmmmmmmm-er.
HA!
I am guilty of being stupid.
(Oh no, then i have to carry a tape player that says 'i am sorry' 24/7)
So,
what else
I am guilty, of killing your time.
Of successfully muddling your worked up brains.
Of bringing disrepute to yellowness.

Ayyo,
not no more.

Ta ta, moo moo.

Yours,
Ihaveofficiallylostitanddontwannaregainitwhatsoeverthankyou.