Sometimes I write. This is a place for such times. Honestly writing doesn't come naturally to me. Nothing does actually. What I am passionate about is doing nothing in particular, thinking nothing in particular.
But sometimes I read. And sometimes I like it too. And I like reading what I write when sometimes I manage to. Perhaps that is why i write.
Jazz. Backache. Boredom.
Cognac, ice swirling clockwise.
Pleasure in disguise.
a haiku
The fishes, they died
each contemplating suicide.
Let the guilt subside.
a haiku
