I have no stories with words and scribbles
ink crawling on derelict parchments
just a stowaway on a mind-boat
sailing aimlessly in oceans of language
alone. among the timelessness of
their chaotic movements.
There is no X to mark the spot.
no clouds above, no sky
no water in the ocean, just an ocean
no metaphors, no poetry.
I have no stories to tell.
just a Broken inkling of nonexistence
in a Room of Empty Reveries
and the Void to fill it with.
no meaning. no sense.
take it or leave it. that is
the only story I have for you.
isolated in its own fantasy,
feeding upon those oceans
full of scribbles and words and
bones carved by quills,
the instruments of Poetry and
30/04/2016 © Waseem Sherif