High

High Got a rinsed sensational feeling after too many Fantasies, puff puff with no passing, drinking From the clay pot off brew, a fortnight stirred... Traditional brewage that seize minds, trapped One, two, three jars in a rush points to unclear Maditation and rinsed contemplations in odds With blared visions. An illusion posted awry, it Being misleading and culminating into pranks Brought back to the margins of humiliation and Predominantly ulcerative colitis from political Inflammations, guts burst from its irony, harmony Peace and tranquil as ever spelt in raved nous... Memory being a brainstorm, a translation of Nature being so beauteous than ever, Whomever Refracts bitter sweet liberties, yet brother's we Are ever busy as ants in built of a hill with rains...