When are you going to die?

I see my life in tatters, strewn around. Falling down, each part animating itself Into a queer little form; Scampering away, looking around; Amid the vast fabric of space and time, Hardly recognizing their master, And instantly gobbled up by a black-hole; But not before squeaking a metallic cry: When are you going to die?

Solo Men

Don’t you feel horrified? Walking alone those strange landscapes; Uninhabited, deserted, untrodden… Don’t you get bored sometimes Sachin? To eye the sky and watch the stars shine, And feel the wind around, And see the seasons change around you; While all along standing like a statue, With no one to keep company. It’s the fate [...]