W-o-r-d-s doesn’t make sense anymore,

Should say they ever made any sense at all…

Never perfectly innervated nor were insane,
Cling on to pages inert, invisible than blankness
Blown off easily before even any lazy reading

Should say they were ever read even once at all…

Mere hollow figures waiting to be easily flown,
Clown of emptiness crowned with bitter negligence,
Enacting for others laughter, still have nil audience,

Should say there was ever any stage offered at all..

W-o-r-d-s are now featherless grey birds,
Wingless and wounded, cannot take dreamy flights,
Cannot dig deep underground to fully submerge too,

Should say they ever were any warriors to emerge at all..

Neither upbeat nor darkle, just to be surface slayed,
No clouds of anger bursting or any focus on inner self,
Doubtless case of fallen soul never to experience love,

Should say they ever clumped at all to evoke any emotions…

Wasted existence waiting over whatever tasteless destined,
Salty blows of assaulting winds bleeds out veins of bland fluid,
Funny fate-lines running merrily is this unrealized sterile state,

Should say ever this lifeless wordless medium is the real NIRVANA…..


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