Can I do something else.?
Running away from writing
Running away from reading.
I think,
It is this thicket of books
That brings about all this emptiness
All this walk on a road not taken.
If I can be killed now,
Let it be now.
Let I go with the darkness
And when morning comes,
Let my smiles be no more.
Let my voice be in tatters
Let my words be scattered.
Perhaps I should throw away all the books in my shelf and glue my eyes on the television, believe and do whatever it tells me.
Perhaps I should burn all the books and inhale all the smoke, till I get drunk and die. Perhaps and only perhaps.
Am everything.
Am nothing.
Why? why....?
Why books became, become my only friends
We talk
Do all things with each other
But now am..,.
I can't ell anything.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
Can I do something else.?
Running away from writing
Running away from reading.
I think,
It is this thicket of books
That brings about all this emptiness
All this walk on a road not taken.
If I can be killed now,
Let it be now.
Let I go with the darkness
And when morning comes,
Let my smiles be no more.
Let my voice be in tatters
Let my words be scattered.
Perhaps I should throw away all the books in my shelf and glue my eyes on the television, believe and do whatever it tells me.
Perhaps I should burn all the books and inhale all the smoke, till I get drunk and die. Perhaps and only perhaps.
Am everything.
Am nothing.
Why? why....?
Why books became, become my only friends
We talk
Do all things with each other
But now am..,.
I can't ell anything.
