No memories left untarnished, everything has been used, disused and overused, creating, discovering a plethora of uneasiness, mangled feelings and a whiff of pain.
I had a canvas board that I started an ambitious painting on, a guitar that cried a river, my notebook sank soaked in the blood that meandered from my orphaned thoughts. Then a feather floated down the stream. the bank was orange-red with the ambers that my eyes had shed. I tore it using all the might that my hands could gather. Period.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Monday, December 4, 2006
Orange Sky
Munch munch munch again...the skies agape...burning amber...an upturned umbrella, parched earth, the musk...did we say orange? My ebony lover sang a song for me in Xanadu...
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Life reeks
The Cricket sat in one corner filling up endless pages with filth, it scribbled, jerked its ink-pen creating black blotches all over the creaking floor. It paused, drank some more filth from its green mug, sloched and filled in some more pages. Mr. Worm looked up from his worm-eaten hole and saw the cricket scribbling incessantly on a worm-eaten book. "Hey do you want some orange?" Mr. Worm asked pretending to be generous and scooped some of the rotten orange pulp with his hairy hand and painfully climbed out of his rotten-orange hole.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
