brown

brown

it's escaping me through jazz
and my goal, it has
become one subsided prioity
dissolving in petty mediocrity
probing the deeper regions
for what seems like eons
helping the fish out of the water
help them see the sun and not a
blurry piece of fiction
clouded in another yellow concoction
'this is not for me' i frown
and in the corner nods mr.brown

monday

monday
two thirty pm anywhere in this wide grey space of twenty four hours sleepless and adding value to sensitive brains swimming in soma captured eternally through microcosmic reproductions of the hidden spaces silently breathing the cold blue air of this blooming field of stars above my head hidden by the ceiling and it's purpose this computer screen in front of my tired eyes and the ceiling is always between me and the stars and they're singing together in some exotic chorus and when i think of the ceiling i think of i before e except after c and wonder why that group of sentences had to rhyme why alphabets aren't nouns like people humming their favourite songs and joking in the shadows....