Constipation in the sky

The fire still burns.

Why does this happen all the time?

Water, water everywhere.

Not a drop for my burning thoughts.

Constipated thoughts.

Looking for an outlet.

Need assurance to let go the attitude.

The road itself becomes a mine-field.

And every step amputates the already scattered thoughts.

Constant amputation has finished the lonely desire.

To move ahead.

Not because of fear but with another thought.

Ki, maybe it is not the last one.

No more torture, no more heart burns.

But one cannot fool them.

It's difficult to fool the thoughts.

They are so foggy yet so clear.

No I don't need the CAT-III.

The pilots aren't trained either.

More chaos might follow with more accents.

Different accents bring different processes.

We are already circling the airport for days.

The toilet paper has finished.

May I use the curtains?

How about the wet tissues?

Let them shout, let them.

There is a bomb in the plane.

Hijackers! Alarm! Alarm!

Just shut up your baby.

Or we throw you both.

Fasten your seat-belts.

We might land in the flyover.

But that's a clover leaf.

And it's full with traffic.

There is a traffic-jam out there

How about the Indian Ocean?

Okay let's do it.

Loser, it's the F-22 Raptor.

Oh! May day! May day!

SAM! SAM! SAM!

Fireworks in the sky.

Everyone jump!

One, two, three, go go go go....

The water is cold! the water is cold!

Ah! at last.