underneath

the satisfied tummy we cannot see. 
just the plate, looking so bare and empty.

late nights,

as if i were sitting for exams all over again. 

music, musings and microsoft word, my company. 

many words, 

a deluge of them, 

like they ever meant anything constructive.

the feeling of going unheard is ... 

and then sweeping all that rubbish under an already filthy carpet.