The vibration of the local atmosphere reminds me of simultaneity.  We are simultaneously writing the couplets for years now. I counted the words last night. It gave me a figure. That’s you. Simultaneity of you. Simultaneity of me. You are reading it hard. I am reading it hard. I can talk of my worldly ignorance. You too I say. Bridging in the electronic carcasses of the mind, soul, cells. Bridging in the deep warmth of black hole. I don’t know what a black hole is. I don’t know. The sparrow eats the flesh and the intoxicated tiger sleeps preparing to live back. Is not the sparrow intoxicated? I can see everyone intoxicated in their everything –every joy, every pain, every displacement and every madness.
My grandmother shared her breast to feed else’s child. The other grandmother shared hers to feed else’s child. They both fed one another. The shrugging of wet hairs arouses excitation in every lover’s body.  The smell of the light arouses excitation in every lover’s damp heart which in turn resonates to take of the dampness and make it alive. Jittery. Fidgety. Calling by the name or calling by the work or calling by the sense or calling by the inadequacy is simultaneity. Perhaps.  Raining. Flooding of the roof. Falling to spill over the excess. The run to catch by the arm, by the eye by the ear, by the love. Shaking. Stopping. Again starting. We are breathing by the distant rule. Hardness by the incoherence of the inner and the outer. Softness by the disposition. By the submission.

The eagerness of expressions reminds me of simultaneity. The window is half cleared to the out and the in. In between multiple simultaneity is occurring which make me submit. Reaction to rain is simultaneity. Reaction of the sun, the cold, the warmth is simultaneity.


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