Taste your salted ego.

You have been asleep so long, my love.

Slumbering restlessly in silence.

Letting the dust of everyday existence 

collect in the hollow of your bones,

nestle in the spaces between your rib cage,

dull the waters in your eyes.

It is time to arise and shake it off now.

To feel the throb of  a firefly's heartbeat 

beneath your eyelids.

It is time to accept your hurts and your disappointments

and wear them like you wear your tattoos- with elan and pride.

It is time to taste your salted ego.

To fix the broken blue clock that remained stuck at the thankless minute.

To burn your effigies of Miss Havisham and Meera.

To taste the freedom in the tendrils of smoke you blow off your celibate cigarette.

It is time.

'There is a storm coming.'