Be it boisterous or broiling days..

Piercing through the scorching Rays..

Stygian or cloud bursting nights..

Hyper.sober .morose and highs

Together we’ve been.

Stumbling…drifting …slinking…fleeting….

Nevermind the halts on green light – midway down the thapathali jam..in the midst of junction roads..Jawalakhel. Koteshwor . Baneshwor. spurning to commence everytime.. Ohh everyfuckingtime. un-till the rise of  blooters.  Nevermind The Quid pro quos.

Here’s to the wrecked tail ,stitched body . the oxidized armor

yet raucous enough to jerk off the silent corner .

Here’s to the 13..

The cicatrix of my teenage anarchy.

The whiff of my ephemeral trysts..

Ammunition of my venture surmount..

My sole chattel - 3534



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