Time Space & Me

Right now I am desperately lying on my bed three-fouth naked and dangerously trying hard to boost my energy....not because I am lazy but I am doubly down with burning cold and smoking cough. Every nanometer of my body is moaning with cracking aches and tumbling pain. My torso is literaly on nuclear reaction but the monostrous irony is I am thermodynamically stable, in other words my energy level has dropped to ground zero. 'In thermodynamics a dead man is the most stable man...therefore, a man in comatose may be preparing for stability'. The law is everything tends to become stable because energy is like a 'goiter' hanging from a cephalothoric junture. If you are energitally at the top...you are heading towards diaster...energy is such a burden. The fever us such a charismatic company that it tends to put in ''time wrap' and teleport you to some knowingly unknown dimention. The drying of your lips, tongue going in a desertification spree and brain taking a gyroscopic spin are all but little too flat and tasteless.....it is but like munching on a silicon sandwich....the numbing pain is nostalgic to marathon run...and I am taking a stallion ride through the Kashmiri hills. I watched Amir Khan program in my android....and I awear I cried real big tears. It basically is about a lost childhood, sleeping in the slum with nothing but an open sky above and cold earth beneath...the child grows without realizing the meaning of papa and mama and yet these are the words he longs every moment in his run. Anonamously, in the stream of millions dissolving in the futile rush of metropolitian life he becomes a father. The tears of unquistioned thoughts bottled up in his chest syarts to spill out....he gazes at his daughter and silently vows to give her beautiful life......then she becomes. The call breaks my crying endeavour and my broher calls me for dinner. I have especially asked him for a soup which he did generously. Wowing in a china the supper let its seductive aroma profusly spotted with red chili jacket, ciliary greens and garlic pods. I took a pool of my evening grace which obviously flooded my GI track, from the tip of tongue to the J-joint in the stomach. I could feel the rush of concatination of orgsnic mixture in relatively high temperature, atoms and molecules tumbling and rubbing the mucosa membrane, which ofcourse is already sirated with the gush of punctured coughing. The feel was but acidic...then having finished this choir of tbe eve, I prepared another routine of injesting some pharmacutics which physician authored me. Capsules like the lunar lander took their adventure. Then the citrizene sniper followed by para-tabs. I purformed this rite with riligious dedication with a wish that I win this war sooner. Then I retired to my bed hopping 3G sufficently around but it seems like raindrops...I monitored my vitals...BP, temp, pulse and other relatives. All clear and good except I had to fight with my Son. I do not want to gift him my ailment right away and ask him politely to isolate me. The idea of quentining an olf man seemed too much in him so he insisted lying beside me. Its then the adrenal behaved and I parted him with slapping treat. Now he is at ground state and I am at guilt. Seems tonight is going to be uncomfortsble one for me for a sheer reason that mercury is still upping at tremendous vilocity...