My father’s daughter, my brother’s sister, a friend to many, a neighbour to some, Is that what I am? Little more than one can see, I am simply me. The thought I smile to, something that I love to do, the words I write, the battles I fight, the dreams I see, Is that what makes me? I seek, I search, I try. The question is who am I?
Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness.
It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The
Once I dare… Once I dare to write my story, Memories crowded falling me weak… And words played hide and seek. Once I dare to lost in Love, brain went on compulsory leave… Mercifully, I survived of dying dive. Once
I feel like I’m going to spin in circles. I feel like falling onto the grass and staring at the clouds. I feel like laughing and acting like a child. I feel like drinking alcohol and smoking some good stuff…