Monday, May 7

stray ones


I think about the shredder
of the white sheafs of paper
That goes in
and the thin stripes of
pulp perfection
that comes out
hiding within
all the stories
that were never told


Its tough
being born
with a perfect body
and to be filled with
salt and gel
and freshness
and then to be
squeezed around
every morning
to nothingness
I only feel better
when I see
the toothbrush
haggard to death
like that


Anonymous said...

"a toothbrush haggard to death"

this is a wonderful muse..

(i once had a similar muse about two toothbrushes falling for a fellow paste that shared the same tray.. this one reminded me of that)

Yuva said...

special attention on 'Shredder & Toothpaste'..!!.. that's different.

shikha said...

Hi shuchika..yet again,i really like what you write:) makes a very gloomy day really nice:)...picked up the phone to tell you this...but it was temporarily disconnected:(