something I like, is reading voraciously
unlike the shade covered parks, picnic baskets of bagels and croissants,
the perfect picnic of perceived to-be bookworms,
it embodies as an act of sublime violence
cramming one after another, and maybe after that the same
mostly the loots of pirates, the swirling seas of invincible digital-lords
type, read, scour the dictionary of a googol words,
community powered notebook on one screen, one out of four
physical books are an affliction,
intents and purposes – reading,
the hallowed possession sought after its completion,
the conquest done, the prize won
unless the bookstores are around, an exploration,
chart the unforeseen, the dusty shelves,
kisses and …
it has seen
i wish to collapse, under the weight of a thousand books,
the scrimmaging of reference in my other two screens,
proust, his wife and even his maid, as I’m violently strangling them all,
until the sun dips post-noon, I nap, the best one ever