Themeless Epiphany

To my flatmates.....

The nights so sleepless
A life so listless
I sit on this bag clueless
Writing something mindless

Raconteurs sprawled around me tell their story
Of the fame of their past and also about future glory
Someone tells his stories of Voyeurism
And how he is influenced by the ideals of Nazism

The fires of gossip are lit
I fit in a tale to befit
Of voodoo the guy from Centre he speaks
And of the books that nowadays he reads

The guy from North speaks of his adventure in foreign lands
And his last job where he used to design stands
I too have a story to say
Its in black and white no way grey

We smoked some cigarettes, drank some beer
Someone starts talking about ghosts and his morbid fear
Our stories went on till the end of the night
By morning I had this poem to write