when,in the bus stand, i had a thought

about images in frames
dying to come alive
but then,
like bad coffee made by ungrateful
people,
tasted,looked and felt ugly.
and
the crowds in buses
didn't cheer me up at all.

the profile

it was night time,
blurry like a hangover
and i was sharing dinner with
a friend of mine.
there was no meat,
only veggies and coleslaw
and i was dying inside.
then it all went past
very fast
when the first ciggerate was lit.

songwriters and bookstore guys

special creatures
like the giant squid
or even an endangered whale
hidden in the deep,
deep ocean.
come back to the surface,
i'll come visit you.

the blues

she sang this song that i love,
and rambled about dylan till morning,
till the sun hit the the sky
and i couldn't believe
that i fell for it
         once again.

title is...... lady guitarleavessprung in air for a brief moment, fantasizing :)

some sketches i did on paint.

steps

people are cruel.
books are cruel too,
their pages cringe,
words wince and struggle
to live and
mostly fail.