A mess of thoughts, inked through a writer’s block

I have been trying to write. I swear I have tried most possible means. I have stayed up in the silence of the night, waiting for a muse to drift by into sleepy eyes. I have strayed into lonelier dirtpaths, recluse benches, shadowy trees, pitch dark corners, my bed, the floor, upon a table, under…

On Constancy

Constancy is like numbness. It cannot be perceived; it is a flat line of inactivity.  What can be sensed is flaws and fluctuation. And sometimes, I'm numbed. This numbed state of my mind leads me very easily into a state of comfortable deterioration. It makes me feel at home in my comfort zones and that…