One night loneliness

I am alone in my room with darkness all around, smoke flowing all around, with problems all around hard as stone with no hammer to break. My love is faraway in the western hills and I think she is thinking about me as I think about her from this hell. She works hard to keep me alive and high and happy. She doesn’t say its hot, she neither says its cold, and neither she says she is tired working hard all day long… She thinks about my life than she thinks about her own. I play my guitar and it sounds bitter with no sweet words and melody. The darkness devours me and intensifies my loneliness. The incessant sound of every drop of rainfall outside hits my ear passing through the window. The books, the papers, and the pens all around are maintaining my path to destination, which seems uncertain. I want to talk, I want to share my feelings, and talk about my dreams with no one to hear. I try talking with the help of my pen and paper, which sooths little but not completely. I am surrounded by drifting smoke from ashtray. I have no one to talk with; so I talk with you, I share with you, I play with you… with every possibility that I can to keep myself alive when I am alone.

Milan Gurung (Freeman)