Go back to the diary..
Go back to that dusty library...
Sip coffee once more..
Drink the writings once more..
Chew on the ideas
Romance the feeling of words
Give me back my world, in two pennies of those two hours.
I can’t word
Give me a word mask to resurrect
Athirst for thoughts
Famished for food to brain.
Long lost the nights, to unfinished stories of dreams.
Long lost the meals of sentences to the morsel of words.
Lost plateful books to empty shelves of years
Living with minimum, I scribble sharp poems
Instead of the couches of essays.
Where a few disjoint and lost words come together
to deliver a gesture.
Far forsaken by lengths of expression
Of the writing.
I was a dream
Now a reality
Soon to elapse as memory.
Lost my metaphors somewhere
Standing in a lacuna today
I walk a step and breathe heavy today...
Just wrapping up a debilitating unfinished story ...
I would generate memoir of the past two years
Smelling the yellowing pages in these two hours
That doused before I could have realised.
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