My Slow Chemical

The wonder of the world is gone I know for sure, All the wonder that I want I found in her, As the hole becomes apart I strike to burn, And no flame returns… Every intuition fails to find it’s way, One more table turned around I’m back again, Finding I’m a lost-and-found when she’s

Writing A Musical, Trying Hard… Hope Springs Eternal, Sharp As A Shard…

Oh here I am, lost in thought, Trying to write a musical this day… Looking out the window, into the sun, Into the faces of men, women and children who play… I saw the faces walking past me, lost in their own thought, lost in their own little worlds of deceit, greed, lust and love,

Cooking With Love

Someone said that the food I cook tastes nice because I cook with love. I started wondering about that comment ant this is what I imagined myself doing: It was a hot, sultry afternoon and the sweat trickled down my skin in thin rivulets as I stood in front of the stove and watched as

Three Aspirins And A Headache

Three aspirins, fourteen hours of sleep in the past twenty-four, five gallons of water and sixteen rounds of bladder relief and I still have a headache. There are so many things running in my head that it feels like its going to explode any moment. No, its not pathological. I checked. I’m half a doctor.

Twenty Seven In A Month

Its a horrendous feeling. I’m twenty-seven in a month. 25 wasn’t so bad, I still felt I was a kid. 26 was bearable. But 27 sounds geriatric. I feel I’m aching all over. I feel the incessant need to play soft music and watch golf. I feel I’m hurtling towards my grave and on some