Thoughts are droplets of rain glued on the sinews of the heart.

codes, texts and algorithms written & engraved on fragile linings of the mind.

they creep in first like strangers not invited to a party and in a short while lit up flames of fire along the corridors of the soul.

they are words yet to be manufactured on the lips of men, sayings caught up in that dark abyss of the belly awaiting full manifestations into life

I love those who spends time printing notes of thoughts in the banks of their experiences, who after spending them, thereafter heaps them up in a gigantic pile only to offer them up to the fire

I love the man who guards his thoughts like a horse whipped mercilessly to obey his master, yet fed with tonnes of meal to carry out it task

I love the man who buries his thoughts in the sepulcher of his heart and then rushes out to...