I Write

I write.

I write of my dreams,
And of my nightmares,
Of my wildest fantasies,
Of grim realities my eyes see,

I write.

About my petty neighbours
About the kids I see everybody
Running naked, barefoot, with bloated belly
About smell of my damp books
About Fort’s secret, silent nooks

I write

About the Temptress’s wet hairs
And her warm bosom I shared,
With many of her lovers.
About the shy girl from school
Who’d often give me looks, from her books

I write

About my darkest days,
About my brightest days,
About the morning mist on the leaves
And the orange sun on the eves

I write

About my dreams of the mountains
And the green valleys and snow
About the place where I want to die
And the places where I’ve grown

I write

 For a voice inside me calls
And another one screams in pain
I write to answer the call
I write to subdue the pain

I write

To defy my Gods
And to please my demons
I write to expose the lies
I write to flee the truths
___________________________________

I don’t want to be an island
I want to be the sea-wind
Who’ll live everywhere, at once
In the hearts of those, who crave for the sea