Bizzare Blankets

It’s raining on my wet bed sheet, the crumpled essentials forgetting their identity to merge into a totality of slanted sleets! They come in a woven pattern of bright rainbow hues and togethernesses. My raincoat offers them blanket bizarreness, cupping my sleeps in tiny eyedrops. We tend to economize the rains, their effects on our blood, and our sordid responses. Reveries: they carry them along from the skies down to my bed. My open window, books they lie shelved in my openness, like bread to the labourer ... My horizon sleeps with open eyes to the behemoth of the sleet

Littlers

Trying to get crazy beyond the point of no return, you make me forget forgetfulness. The enduring turbulence of your makeshift patterns are etched – oh, so ever! – in charcoal sketches. You draw me like a cartograph, smell my reveries like some wolverine spectre. We believe in being just eaters as life walks to me in tiny packets of boredom – wisdom. We do make noise, though, never being the best of kids. They say, you ought to pay heed to the ‘littles’ of existence, without getting belittled by them.