My thoughts
are like Black Clouds restlessly
floating, and soaring into
the abyss of nothingness...
Yet, oftentimes like
comic figures hanging
at the edge of sanity but
most of the times,
envisage death basking
between the jaws of reality with
a flamboyant face...
Nevertheless I am,
miserably fascinated
-of my third eye's
-elusive grin, blissful
not of a downfall but
festivity--full of
-ripe emotions nurtured
in a barrel of olden days...
These days, I hate the
way how my
cup of coffee stares
at me- as if it knows the-
emptiness inside when-
the fang of boredom
injured the many minds...
