I feel the weight of summer
arching my back
with droplets of its love.
My t-shirts hate summer,
It makes them nauseous.
The Night burns in dark,
the stars left us long ago.
It is they who hid the warm winds
in unseen alleys of the sky.
I wait for an answer that never
comes.
I wait for a voice never heard.
The night silently leaves.
The Evening Coffee,
Led Zeppelin for some time,
a day that went wasted again
a night that would devour
bits of me happily ,
till I feel nothing in the
sunny morning , still
be ready for a new day ahead.
But before all this
devour and massacre,
let me scribble a page
or few
as a memoir of the damned nights
I am seeking stars tonight
nor are they looking for me.
No wonder the nights don’t excite me
I wonder are the stars excited?
Every time.
A bat was never destined for caves,
nor the ugliness that it enslaves,
something drove him down there,
where he lives in unfathomable darkness, Continue reading
Writings to Heaven 