It rained.
I harvested
My wet clothes
Inside my room.
How cruel
The world is
Keeping me away
From the rays
Of the sun
The same way
It keeps her
Away from me.
It's raining harder
In my mind.
The soul of a brain dead person is believed to be travelling to several loops in the unknown unknown. These loops according to scholars carry a dimension that the traveller can speak for himself, for his co-traveller, and for his environment through a certain form of writing - the form that floats in the darkness in white readable ink. Let this blog be my entrance to become brain dead and experience the expressive nature of a brain dead traveller of the said loops in CYBERSPACE.
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