120ml

120ml of bliss tastes best during such trying times.

As I walk the road
My footsteps spill, onto streets
Of distant cities

Closure has been achieved. Now, a new phase. Some doubt, much certainty. Some fear, much finality.

Feels good.

Yellow bulldozer
Crawling, like a living thing
That can reproduce

Papery grey ash
Sinking in the air, drowning
The mind in static

Clinical Embryology Maxim

The sole purpose in life of the neural crest cells is to migrate, and they botch it big time.

Stench of formalin
As I mend, with deep sutures
Life's littered limbs


Inspired by these words of @thy_me_basil.

A part of my mind
gets drenched in a falling rain,
that does not exist.

Coffee spots, ink blots
Colonise the petri dish
Of an idle mind

Schism

Ousted the creepy voice in my head and now there's a gollum-like creature following me everywhere.

.

P.S. It has been sitting on a chair in my room, all day. Caught it on camera while it was busy fidgeting with it's toenails.

The scent of first rain
As my touch, pitter patters
Your unloved skin.

Who is it that I am supposed to see?

All I've done for the past 90 minutes is sat at my study table and sipped a gallon of water while vehemently talking to myself, aloud.


How exactly this is supposed to help me achieve my life goals is beyond me too.


...and 90 minutes ago I had sternly told myself, 'You have only 10 minutes. Not a minute more!'

So, who is it that I am supposed to see about this now?

What are words but mere words, without the emotional undertow that makes them poetry?

And what is poetry but mere poetry, without the reckless abandon that makes it love!