The grass may look green but it harbours serpents are you still keen? To walk upon the garden called life it has uninvited surprises that you do not want to feel.
Then comes a time one feels low, condescending whispers in the dark oh what a blow..
That refuge in the glass of intoxication, morning at late afternoons, self-destructive fixations
One wails reassessing his trails.
Then time passes by an innocent smile makes way for antsy grunts. A chattering effervescent vibe becomes shunned. Few toddling questioning eyes, asking what’s there that you hide? The silent gaze, carrying the burden of reality, says just enjoy the present and stay unfazed. They say he doesn’t speak,
COS…THOSE WHO KNOW DO NOT SPEAK!
want to be a screenplay writer/director
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