Can I be, a seed that is left in the wild? Probably to sprout or just be as it is And not sprout. Can I be, a dewdrop on a wild flower? Left to be drunk by a bee or just is as it is And be passionately kissed by the Sun. Can I be, a teardrop, rolling down? Unknowingly disappearing on to the chest or Just be as it is. Can I be, that pain, deep down left to stay right there? Stuck in your throat or Just be as it is. Can I be, that last breath, which seems confused at times? Trying to convey many unspoken, unfulfilled thoughts, Or can I just be as it is …that last breath.
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…