I want to talk, not about the weather.
I could care less if it’s hot or cold.
I want to talk, not about life or even your ambitions,
Definitely not about the world cup or the media tax.
I want to talk, not about who is popular or what’s trending on twitter.
Atleast not today.
I want to talk only about your darkest fantasies, your dirtiest thoughts.
Your deepest darkest secrets, the things you’ve put away in your mind.
Whose keys you’ve hidden far but close enough to reach, for when no one is looking.
Tell me the truth of your most bizarre thoughts, those obsessions that reek of gasoline.
Those thoughts you seek safety from only because if brought to light.
Would have your african mother cursing you.
Those thoughts that come alive only after midnight.
Tell me everything, the battles you’ve lost.
The wars you’ve won, in your mind.
Let me in, let me undress your mind without a fight.
Let me break you, you seem firm.
Mere shaking, I reckon won’t shatter those locks.
Give me a road map, to that maze of a mind.
Tell me about the person you would be, if no one was judging.
Maybe then i’ll write something raw.