Wild Rains
No one anymore speaks about wild rains
real wild black rains, rains with fire
Of women, wild wicked women.
No one ever spoke of a candy cover
The aesthetics of a Beedi pack
No one ever speaks about
Worn out tea stalls
Of rustic old stainless steel tumblers
I love them
They are a world into themselves
A deep gorge where your feelings will not be enough.
No one ever spoke to me of anything
anything thats worth living a life
something beautiful and meaningless
posted by Sidharth @ 10:24 PM
1 Comments:
snaky! absolutely love it that you think abt voids and nothingness. it must be easy for you living in this haze of pot glory:)
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