Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup

There is no measure to the pleasure I derive from the leisure time which hides within the pressure cooker treasure and the rust in my razor which leaves me unshaved for months. Or the subtle accessories that life presents in the present with the dents on numerous scents while paying the rent and finding all money has been spent on the endless meanings meant for the overflowing vent in my heart's bent. When all the eager meager believers and the same gold diggers trigger the frightening of questions, I try to stay numb. For all I know and grow and blow, these thoughts in my inner chambers will be impossible to comprehend.