Fly me to the Moon

Two astronauts in summer clothes, gently place the aluminium moon on the floor. The Mercedes of a middle class neighborhood, leaves tyre marks on the cosmic  hotel. Wires of opposite polarities were in short supply and nobody sold dry wood in the mall. Somewhere, in the distant corner of the city, two lovers waited for the moon to glow.

The paper finally burnt the tobacco; the expedition was over.


Published by: flatlined84

A thinker outside the quarantine zone. The words on this blog will assault your senses, would make you curse in the holy name of Bard. If that's not enough, leave a piece of your mind in the comments section- the writer is on the dole and is always hungry.

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