Men say words t…

Men say words that slide past the ears like slippery eels. Women dance moves that pass the eyes like irrelevant ghosts. The place is filled with sounds that sound null. Flirty words exchange lips amongst the laughs between times when she brings her wineglass close and he takes a drag before letting out white thick smoke rings. Supposedly to be one, it has become the fourth or fifth drink, mind stopped counting. Even the lust so intentional – cheap commodity – today is not a trade fair, my love. None’s mentioned the sweet juice of solitude. I so often prefer my party. The air conditioner is sick it spits mist. Spitter spatter spitter spatter. Trains come and leave the station which could be you impatiently patient and clueless. Books whisper reeking of decadence of old forgotten days of forgotten face. As now my eyes embrace the photos you take, I long to love you deeply and through the tube which is your world view I penetrate a place better than this. When the night comes, it aches, my dear. Gracefulness of Words gave ways to Elegance of Silence. Green. Mind scream. Sister, I wish I were now in a forest. In a rusty cabin somewhere deep in the wood lies a heart beating so loud the sound shatters darkness and dead silence. What keeps the throbs go on is more alive than the heart itself, almost stronger than the man, definitely bigger. This place stinks of complacency. I think I have not been here for a long long time. All miseries and sufferings of the poor and the sick are kept outside of that shiny glass door. Wine glasses stand solemnly on nicely set tables saluting the joy of living. Give me a thread-end, weave a story that rolls to the end of an ocean breathing salty to lips. Amidst this all, whip out a word that grasps and holds before the blue moon turns into a rabbit.