Caution : What you could come across in the process.

Insignificant references to my life, an abstract and distracted thought sequel, monotony, inconsistency, vague vague perception, whorish intellectualism, feminist bullshit, armchair activism, causes I try to relate to, sharp sarcasm, even sharper criticism, frivolous details.

Nonetheless Happy Reading.

Monday, June 9, 2008

and what did he ever know of losing?
he tied his shoelaces
and drank the milk without spilling it on the floor
and put a star shaped cookie in his pocket
maybe he might have lost
a crayon sometime
and known about it
when he was about to color his heart
the one he drew on a lined page
given to him by his mother
from a diary she used
to keep her accounts in
to keep him busy
shoo him away
an arty pre occupation
hours of relief
to do things she liked
like paint her nails
maybe red
he still searches for the red crayon
underneath sofa's and in between sheets
troubles him,it does
to see an empty space
in the crayon box
something missing
amongst the blue's and the green's and the black's
losing isn't easy
when you want something
in a moment more than you could imagine
it not being there
could bother you,affect you..
more than you could imagine
it starts with a crayon
something that stands 6 cm tall
that sickly pastel
losing isn't great
but at the end of the day
the heart is painted
and his mother's nails
it looks more beautiful than ever

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