Where we dance, cross eyed and completely out of sync

Sync – I have an inherent distrust of words without vowels. Slimy motherfuckers. Hiding some thing or the other. Or am I being too judgmental? Are they actually just incomplete souls in a world that has no respect for the lacking? Tiding their loneliness with the hope and belief that they are REAL words, just like the others.

Boo fukin hoo.

There was a time when the feeling of love was almost always accompanied with that of fear. Lump-in-the-throat, wish-I-was-anywhere-else fear.

Quite odd I think. Quite odd.

Off to chomp on some animals for the lunch. Milne ka hai to bol, nahi to ghanta baja.

Tung tung tung tung

Tune maari entry….

Tung tung tung tung.

Its all about the tung. Beetches.



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