a rarest of rare thing that can happen to my hardy and wavering bio existence. Heart feels why cant I use my pencil the infinite I have. I am inclined rather more to go to sleep which my moods say nei. You are not with me and your becoming and turning out to be a sunita minhas is something which my brain opines is a de facto reality. Heart intervenes and says dont be that absolute cruel to its so original possession howsoever one way traffic it can be. Brain opines my heart is really a crank which accepts the things before it actually starts and then it gets trapped.
I do not know why I feel intoxicated without a sip of vodka which Brig Giri raj was having.
No comments:
Post a Comment