the words are water
and they flow,
and they flow,
and they flow,
and they also get clogged.
the days where
imagination swirls in your head
and there's a nonstop thrum of a drum resting inside
because your mouth is shut,
unable to puke it out,
and the days where
your hands are dry,
pens inkless;
the days where you feel dead,
the days where you
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
the words are water
and they flow,
and they flow,
and they flow,
and they also get clogged.
the days where
imagination swirls in your head
and there's a nonstop thrum of a drum resting inside
because your mouth is shut,
unable to puke it out,
and the days where
your hands are dry,
pens inkless;
the days where you feel dead,
the days where you
