Old Houses. Peeling Walls.

You should have been there, between the clumps of misery, and contrasting reality.
You should have been there, at that threshold that restrained everything.
We were certain We’d run Mad.
Clothes peeling,Lungs blaring mad.
At those Moments when You should have been there.

Ever heard Cricket Croo-Crooing in an Uptown town?
Mingled with sweat sounds. And sweet sewage.
Ever heard choices smashed in unending repetition at penury’s En Bloc’s features.
You should have been there.
To see.
To smell.
To sense.
To visualize.
To Dream, and die, and wither, and shrivel, then stand up again. Scallywags have no choice.
You should have been there.

I am standing on that road now,
The ones that snaked towards Main road,
And licks off Rail road.

I am standing on that road now,
Look! The walls have peeled off.
Descry! The house house thin slices of spaces, in between our nightly fortress.
The loofah of degredation has bathed here.

Look! The walls are falling, and the Colours are happily dissolving, singing a blue song as they go.

Hold me , hold me, hold me close……



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