Wednesday, July 1


All time for bed, still awake.
Black inch in through the crater.
Fear thickens, frail psyche.
Pain sway out, inert eyes, bloodless tears.
Resting on the bed with absolutely shattered soul, I could hear the clouds thundering all through the obscurity.
With all that irrational rusty thoughts, that kept me with the musing.

And it’s all time for bed, but am still awake.


The Line

It is meant to be the way it is to be, deeper it goes, better cutting yourself with a butter knife, it hurts more, I don’t want to ...