words swarm like ants
and start peeping out
of the nest of mind.
I write when
life becomes a sizzling summery land,
where words would be
fresh, tender sprouting greenery
to offer me solace.
life becomes a sizzling summery land,
where words would be
fresh, tender sprouting greenery
to offer me solace.
I write when
the meaninglessness
and monotony of life prick me,
where I try to make a pattern
out of the patternless words;
a pattern out of the patternless life.
the meaninglessness
and monotony of life prick me,
where I try to make a pattern
out of the patternless words;
a pattern out of the patternless life.
And I write when
I don't know what to do
but hurl words around
I don't know what to do
but hurl words around
just to be another little 'babbling word'
hidden under the myriad bits of ugly words!
hidden under the myriad bits of ugly words!
