everyday the words accumulate in me and at night I shoo them out I never know what they are going to be it is like a smoke one sniffs all day but does not smell
how drearyโฆ how unaware we stay of all that makes us what is it that blinds us, if not the gaze with which we see
sometimes the words become dreams sometimes tossing turning wake and emptiness sometimesโ or like right now they become it all sometimes I turn on Faizanโs brutal bright lights and I uncap my pen and I watch this page and I pick my nails and I think think think it may sound silly but those are words too.