Random

Sitcoms: Lollipops for the
grown-up.

Verbally challenged,
I write what I can’t say.

Why aren’t you here
is all the sms said…
“Sometimes, I rather be at a
party in my head.”

There’s nothing like
hitting the sack
with Jack Kerouac.

I’m the satellite the moon thwarted.
Now I revolve in my vicious circle.

When tragedy loses novelty,
it becomes a banality.

Omen: A spray of blood-red
spit crosses your path.

Padded armour fends off
those off-‘hand’ brushes.

Rattle snake on wheels:
Trailer on a bumpy road.

Uttering “oopsy-daisy”
she turned into an
anachronism.

Dust unsettled
by a passing train
has more permanence than you.

Plugging into the earphones,
they banish their thoughts.

Scared to hear the truth,
he lived out a lie.

Vain: Trying to arrest
a fugitive thought.

I’m Jack’s pang of guilt.
Who are you?

For the one-who-must-not-be-named:

Cold loathing
wins the staring duel.

Go easy on the cereal,
lest you turn into a flake.

Why doesth thou shy
from stating the obvious,
when thou asketh
the same of me?

Donning the mask
she said,
“I spy a boy.”

Ever so often,
you blur the lines
that separate you from me.

What a pity,
I see through your
‘pithy’!

You only see what you
want to see;
for you, child woman
I’ll be.