Cling on
Cling on to life with all your might, you can.
Fear the night no more it will dawn be soon.
Don’t let the tears fall down your cheeks again.
Do try to resist howling at the moon.
“Write drunk, edit sober,” is not for me.
All my words dance drunkenly on the page.
After a drink, I cannot write you see.
I fumble and stumble in my mind’s maze.
Stories in my head keep on branching out.
Nor head or tail of my thoughts can I make.
The world has become deaf, can’t hear me shout.
Can somebody stop me for goodness sake.
If life were a story, where would it end?
Can someone to me the manuscript send?
I can resonate with your words so well, Sulekha. The branching stories and those thoughts with no head or tail — such a familiar concept to me. 🙂 Love this poem, Sulekha, although I have a hard time picturing the drunken you surrounded by drunken words. 😀
I’m constantly in the phase where I cannot make head or tail of my thoughts too! The mind can be a very chaotic place.
Hahahahaha, drink or no drink, sober or drunk, your stories always makes me feel on the top of the world, it’s always the same, drink or no drink…. Sober or drunk.
Cheers
Every writer will identify with your thoughts Sulekha, or perhaps very person. Too many thoughts in too many directions, recipe for chaos.