the pages of this book are all over the world

most have only seen the cover,

some have seen a page or two,

and a handful have read

a chapter or so.


I used to want  a book,

but now all I keep are loose pages –

some stuffed carelessly into the bag

and others left on my table

drenched and erased by

spilled coffee and sometimes blood.


I burnt some pages, and some

i left for the wind to decimate

some other were horcruxes

to shame and guilt –

they are deep in some safe place.


it is no longer a book

but the extended consciousness

of everything that is.


some people stop writing when

they run out of pages,

I hope to keep going until,

I run out of ink.


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Turns out I forgot to get the doodle with me to be scanned. I will update the doodle as soon as I can lay my hands on them ! Sorry !