Evening fades under my door
I can see from my bed
night comes just like the husband
with the empty tiffin with no new stories
i blink my eyes
the clock strikes 4am
and i stand naked at my balcony
lighting a smoke
and then a smoke again
the last stick lights the sky
and the sun rises
as i fall back to my bed
with Dharma Bums
November, December, January
flew away with few poems
some written some unwritten
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