Tickles and turmoil

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The scribblings take the front seat when I'm at the rockbottom subsurface times.. and rev up the engines.. 

And I spend the uncounted minutes drawing something that only my memory could perceive, feel and understand, and may be a stranger I never met would too..

That's when the mind becomes an octopus, like good old Oswald, smiling sweetly and strangling me with a million arms as i stare into those eyes...wouldn't let me fight back the tears.. and wouldn't just let me drown in the unspoken parodies, as if my socially acceptable version went paralysed... 

#totheink

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