but sometimes i think but can’t feel

and sometimes i look and don’t understand

some things are  dying to be written about


human’s ignorance or the ignorance of man,

leaves them unwritten(not unforgotten)


i shall not write about those i care too much of

because i realized it is after i flood my paper with ink;

after the trees are tortured with the screeching sound of metal chainsaws

after my ink is diluted with a colour i like to taste

that we become strangers.

like the objects are strangers to us.


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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