writer2

 

“Inhaled all the smoke

To sigh it on a paper.

My, My;

How the ink spilled

As the pen slid and rumbled!

The thoughts piled,

Formed a beehive,

And I agreed to choke on ’em.

 

Their foul World –

A speck on my charming fantasies –

Still suffocates my soul being.

 

Oh, sweet escape

Of my magnificent Worlds,

How you agreed to succour

My outcasted existence

From Their pathetic ‘Reality’!

 

God, these dreamy veins

Still lay asleep:

Shhhh….. Don’t wake ’em up!

They still seem stuck,

hallucinating,

In those misty times;

For Their poisonous World

Does naught but spew Venom

In through my skin.

 

Sanity kills me;

Let me remain

Their Maniacal Leisure

In order to retain those good nights

I laid in my bed

A happy man.

 

Room #144,

Writer.

 – JAISMINE K.

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