Thursday, October 6, 2011


Shamelessly pink..shamelessly pink…shamelessly pink.

I make stories, I never write them. They are never true. Just demons I create to plague me later-days when I call on numbers I breathe, and no one answers.

And then begins the epic of apprehension, the possible romance of a grand loss. Just that some 48 unanswered calls later when the immensely significant other takes the call, the significance fades.

Unrest is beautiful.

Also, I noticed that I don’t search for a spare corner of a back page to spill these days, I grab my laptop and open a word document.
 Ketamine I’m losing you

“Come fill me again”

(And here’s the urge to write something more, to add a punctuation here, a phrase there, some conjunction somewhere, here’s the need for visible coherence

 and what lies above is the abstinence, the document of deprivation)

No comments: