One eighth of a sob
echoes of moans whenever I talk
spiraling thoughts and steam in eyes
left alone, left behind to rot and die
I just want to become a talented writer and hope to present my art to this world as an unexpected gift.
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Maybe I thought wrong
The sharp, the flat,
Loud as lightning, I can go on howling
Kanwar Lake ( ramasar site)- Begusarai, Bihar IND
Just good food made by me or other people.
Aesthetic background. Red neon lights on a black background.
I like cigarettes here
Do they subsist a band of blue?
the city in which I love him
As familiar notes play, I lay
I open my door and they fly away,
I irked as milky water trickled down my knee
Blurry and clear
……. are your eyelids black or grey?
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