Far away, I hear a beat.
It could be a gulping or even a passing through
But for now, we will assume - beat.
My heart beats. All these hearts in Cooke town's houses and rooms, in bunkers and makeshift road side plastic spots - beat
I want to beat you
Beat you till you respect me enough to say, "I'm sorry for my ill will, my arrogance, my conceit and condescension".
I want to beat you till my heart beats fast from beating you and your heart beats fast from being beaten.
I would bite you if I could, so you would bleed a little and recognize you have blood in you and are not a fucking vampire.
Blood + beating heart = life + feelings.
Beat man. Beat na!
Bleed so you are reminded of color.
Red hotha hain khoon.
Not blue. Idiot.
You idiot.
You prized, published, petted idiot
And yet, here I am at 2.11 am regretting that I opened this loud heart and tried to sing its questions to you.
Listening though, was never your skill.
Chalo. Forget you. I will go train some more to listen - Ke what is there beneath the beating.
Listening tho is not your will.
Kaan bhare hain na - with knowledge and information.
Hmmm.
Chalo, forget you. I will go train some more, ke how to listen.
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