Picture your day , a lifetime story when written up ,fully and finally .It is an old man’s story, not to be a mix of colors, weirdly textured,a palette of words, a brushstroke of uninitiated, an antic landlord.

Woman is doe-eyed, picture-like looking for her man perfect type a perfect type story, as eating out from your hand, a Saturday persona of long spun stories of grandma.

Grandmas are dead from paintings of exhaustion of laughter in prime.Stories flow under naughty moons.Grandmas were laughing at moon stuck in the night’s coconut palms.

Days go on like lives likely to stop,their eyes still retaining bits of sky.Dream planes crash on sex snakes,their lips drooling on soft pillows, fear ruling the juices under shirts while world spins out the window.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s