Weather and Climate.

Its that time where I should be writing. I ought to write, right. With all the migration and the magnetic disorientation, this is the time that late night diary entries are made of. But I shall not. I shall stay silent. I shall let the vine grow to cover the entire wall. The ivy clad wall. There is some sadness, some confusion. The fumes mix to a fog of melancholic stale vapors. Fan sounds seem amplified, questions and thoughts are killed in their infancy, days are spent on rippled bed sheets, the sweat wet tips of my hair resting on the pile of pillows, reading the horrible-selfish-and-super-fucked Bukowski and the Beyonce of the Beatniks – Kerouac. So you can well imagine the state I am in. Thats all, that’s the weather in my head. Dark clouds and darker thoughts.


~ by Shashank Kumar on July 19, 2008.

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