so I ruminate,and amalgamate grief with riddles,I pollute my mind until the gutter becomes filthy,until it is full, until it cannot take anymore until it bursts,litter the blood with old fairy tales,scurry over the scars with a faint touch,I ruminate, and facilitate this jargon,irrationality over teeth, ticking,one by one, even the wisdom in me couldn’t […]

still he scatters in my mind,like ants littering pavements on hot summers day,sometimes flying, sometimes small, insignificant,other days overbearing and then a hill forms,and I am overthrown by the consistency of such an Insect. Ants are small though, Ameera,Yet, you never had it in you to kill them.