Wednesday 12 November 2014

Fantasy and Reality

He was a one dimensional guy.

She was a gathering of stories.

And they would clash, time and time again.

At the line between fantasy and reality.


She was an emerging hurricane.

A collection of aftershocks.


He was a one sided coin.

Stuck to the top of a mountain.

All he saw, was the sun.

It must be nice to not house a museum of caustic nostalgia in the veins of your mind.


It must be nice, 

To only see the sun.