The budgie bird

The latches and blotches of the satellite, recurring the images of ant-like livelihood and starlight in the meanwhile of haze and brownish industrialized Puff, a deprived and dots'n athirst again, through looking the kaleidoscope. I caught thyself nonsensical scribbler in the canvas of lying lies, of the roses wished one day to fly in the wind of TOOT, bulky cuddly bird, temper cozy, that Papak hanged on the bird in the primitive I couldn’t squint the eyes on to look at. on the side of the nights usually, I felt the bed flying in the skies, I had been cuddled by the bird and sneezed a lot, as someone like me maybe loving the idea of kind budgie, looking through the jungles and towns, to the GHAF of the acme, where geometrical spaceships of TOOT flies on.

I raise my head to see the light. There is no light. All I see is greyness and dullness. People around walking the watch life. Crowd and dystopia of melancholy coming along my foot as my hands are empty and eyes are blank and weary. The day has gone. Looking back to the date of today, I found myself nearly lost. What should I do? I am thinking that there is no correlation between my footsteps and the time. I lost time. Whoever? The time is just the objective tool to measure the future as I have lost in the present moment, dreary and ramshackle. I was thinking of my past pets. I was wondering about the budgie I have had for six years. The beautifulness of the wings, the softness of the look, the energy of the eyes, all and all, was a real gift given to me by nature. This cute little guy has been passed away before ten years and still, I am living the thug life with the memory of this little cute TOOT. After that, I haven’t felt a deep bond with any animal until I found the pigeon very smooth and lovely in looks and grab him softly and got to know the bird is really my soul-mate and I could fly the mountains by the grace of this ominous fortune. I really had had a feeling toward birdies, left me with the loneliness of hasty road and throng of indisputable urban architecture. The towns appear at first glance a tiny and windy and glary solitude, may the serendipity of watching those little cute guys help me to kiss thy head in the mirror of my mind. The latches and blotches of a satellite, recurring the images of ant-like livelihood and starlight in the meanwhile of haze and brownish industrialized countryside, still deprived and dots of athirst again, through looking the kaleidoscope.