The go'ers get going

A hill side road inside a crowded city. 11 pm alarm. The crowd bustles uphill walking towards bottles of gin vodka and mix. We move one side and move onto the left. High heels,short skirts and tall men. I see them all. Loud music, no parking and lot of chaos. I view it all. Horns loud, a text- leaving for a 'Saturday night party'. What does one do at this place? On the rocks for an UPPER middle CLASS.I notice, they are like different partitions of the same plate. Some full, some looking to get full by the night ends. They desire,they drive. They aspire,they receive. What is so wrong in that? Midst the crowd, just watching them walking towards pegs,shots and pints felt a little out of place. So its the place that makes(it) believe(me).This rush of bare shoulders touching each other, a few pushes, a little drink spills on your tagged dress. How many of them are every Saturday nighter's but Would love a photo story of  many a "Saturday Nights". It would be hypocritical of me to say I don't enjoy the music and the alcohol once in a while, but for me the weekend has a completely different idea. Week-END. Live the END. Relax till it ENDS.  This doesnot mean I am correct or the lifestyle I chose for myself is the best laid plan,no. But I would want to attempt to know what people derive out of drinking the same alcohol,laughing again and listening to some what the same music in a different ambience every bloody saturday.
 At some level I feel honey singh's song is pretty darn right. except for a few sexist comments, everything stands true. So, who is this "saturday night" party goers and why do they live this lifestyle? I am soon gonna be doing a photo story on the same.

Force

Plumber crack. Jump and splash. Dirty water fills your shoe. A pot hole,  like a black mole. In a moment, wings fly, fluttering heights. Some passer by's. Refused other,abused bare. Aroused of the shade and grossed out in light. It pricks, a twitch like prick. How? We know not. Three year fame, two gone by. Chain linked neck piece. Small broken slice. Taste some violence. Twist some arms. Discern's this thought. Learn to forgive. Forgive and unlearn. A lamp can fix. A glass of mix. Red Yellow and Blue. Pungent chat.

Raining Black and White. Linear-Parallel- Linear gauge. Loud music. Irritation. Lack of absorption &  Broken sentences. Unity and combination. Lets nominate her. She might see. The haze, a gaze. Of colors unsaid and discussions not done. Talk today. Create a mystery of fumes. Fog the fumes. Breathe. Images of a mirror. Barely move. Shaken not stirred. Bit of ice and a little rock. Thumps her feet as night gnaws. Golden Glitter with Silver Shimmer. Hex and hypnotize. 

Finish line.

  BUT

Continue.

The secret to life.

Meeting is a chance. Chosen is the stance.
Different obstructions lead to different routes. Rustling beaches of Morjim and sunset skies of Baga. We move ahead. Onto a new destination. Holidays to put you off present. A destination forgetting foot prints. Rendezvous in time. Lapse. Those waves refold. Composed others opposed. They smile and scare. Decompose yourself in that one hotel room.
Locked inside a bottle,fizzing out of smoke. We held hands together. Walking water on the feet, slips between your toes. On the beach. Away and in darkness,before the spectrum. Empty dance floors. 3 hour Bollywood haul. Fly away, feel ecstasy  I looked around, he held my hand. I looked around,again. He firmed his grip. I looked around once more, i saw her. A spark some smoke and boom. Then was a beach which was walked upon by her. Not alone. Not with me. With him. A week long memory. Although in this shes a part,forlorn. We love laugh live. We cry care caress. Two way train, away from all the pain. Little company but crowding seas. Flying around high, falling down deep. Jittering lights,cornered streets. Zipping scooters, loud silencers. Something to realize something to feel. A leg in two boats, detached - destabilized  Shoot is over,time to pack up. The lights are dim, curtains are closing and I stand still. This anecdote is a memory,a parody.