GABRIEL SPEEEKZ

this happens to be the first ever shitload i've written..i know it happens to be amazingly vague and probably may not make any sense at all..it was written on a delhi bus stop,and i had a really bad hangover after a night of good vodka and good music..this is what happens when u drink till 4 in the mornin,and have to report to work at 9.
Ash flicked off, tries to find some anchorage but is torn apart by the wind .... makin it lose every semblance of its very existence. the bits still get drawn in a collective swirl. the wind picks up again as the bits are finally sieved away into their oblivion. the whole cigarette goes thru the same pagan procedure which resembles the crossover of a sinner's soul to hell where its constantly ripped apart in the hot intestines of the realms of lucifer for eternity to witness.Life still trickles on like a faulty hourglass where even sand gets clogged as if metamorphosed into clay by the gnarled and nimble fingers of the senile silhouette of the alchemist who is addressed across the world as time itself.As if oncue , the wind rises again and wails thru the myriad trees, creating an eerie rustle... much as the announcement of the arrival of the fallen angels , as it makes the leaves on every branch quiver in unison, grippin on to dear life and reminding the dead ones of their fate to be trampled on for eternity. the cacophony of the wind becomes unbearable and the stoic symphony from hell reaches the crescendo as Satan's minions prepare for their descent onto our shores....