Message: If You Follow Me....
I will walk through the maze of your madness and over the marsh of your mediocrity and fly over your territories so vast that no one remembers their boundaries trying not to notice the unexpected gloom that creeps upon me when your garden grows nights and try to leave unhurt, untouched keeping my own light undimmed
What will you do? My garden unlike yours is a coffee cup untouched hidden from view by the bedstead I am scared to lift the edges of the cover or even to dangle my foot over and face the monster feeding on the empty bottles I throw
The pigeon paces the ledge muttering, circling and gutturally impatient His vision of the bajra, pouring from a bottle one in each peck, reaching his gut, filling his vacuum silences him for a while; a memory of being fed
Silence demands food, jaws move making their own conversations filling a need to say and to be heard while the flab settles comfortably on the bones bogging their enthusiasm to get going on the run for there is nowhere really to go so the flab demands to be fed again and in the middle of doing nothing and seemingly everything your message seems a troll, excuse me I am laughing now