Now there is a boy I think of
When I cannot sleep
But it does not do: there is
Crookedness
In every pepper that plays me
There is crookedness
In every lovely word. There is
No eye that spares me
The ******. There is
*** in the walls. The winds moan.
They ruffle my shirt just to see
They pick the sparse parts and
Spread spread spread they
Deprive no one of me. I am haunted
By my oak wood, my twigs
My sugar that races from me to fruit
And bursts atop the open palm.
There is no God but that
In the pinpricks of my skin
No word that does not steal me
And dies a meagre scent in ear
There is no book. I pray to the
Well-taught wells of nothing
And I am given everything
I pray in a sound I cannot own
I am heard, forgiven, etc.
Now the boy becomes a man
And I become a woman and
The night passes passes but
There is no hand that can hold me
And spare me the hold. I am tired
Of picking at the doubts on my skin
They yield, bleed, and do not cease
To become me. Me me, I am
Tired
Of confidentiality. Superstitious
Consciousness, I cannot bear, tonight,
All these dead fathers

Moving their hands to grab me
From within. I am not much
But a vessel
For his sheer body to pour through
And pass and ruffle itself neat
There is no language
Small enough for me: no word
That does not leak. No - no
Plentitude that could unmake God,
And fix me this pursed solitude.
Though, he... this...
Make-believe, beautiful and noise
Weaves me tersely into skin
And says forget forget, it
Does not do,
though

His looming lure is huge as a kiss
His hands are coarse company
Asphyxia feels again
Like homecoming

11:25 am

some stillness here
that I fear to break
some gentle memory
of the body
some luciferase show
of a little plant
something still softer
and still small
like the tickle of an ant
before it is revealed
or the startle
of a single hair

say

I spent years trying to break
the horrible spell of past
to free myself
from its shame
but such nights
bring it back
like an abandoned baby
in their cautious arms
and when I take
it does not cry
or scare me with frenzy
it sleeps beside me
chubby-lipped and pillow
and the nights do to
beside me

I don’t know…
some stillness here
makes us one

I wander around the house
Like a heavy ghost
My room.
Turn off the A.C. and open up the windows
Faizan’s room, little brother
Mother’s
My room
It is too barren in here
The kitchen
Open the fridge; I am not even hungry
Drink some water
Faizan’s room
— What up?
— Doom
— Cool. Carry on
He sets a zombie on fire
Hoping around the mountains
Like a wounded bird

Mother’s room
Bathroom for another shower
My room
I might just be passing through the walls
‘Cause man do I not recall
Heading to the kitchen again
Older brother’s room
— What up?
— Hmm?
Exposes a red ear from beneath the headphones
— What up?
— Shut up.
Touché.
Mother’s room
— Do you want my help studying?
— Nah, I’m sleepy

My room
Turn on the A.C.
shut the window
The evening sun pours in through the purple curtains
Washing the room in a faint blush
(not that anybody asked)
…
…
Cannot sleep
…
…
Faizan’s room
— Weren’t you dying? He asks
— Couldn’t
— Ah, sad.
Kitchen
Might just make coffee
Faizan’s room
— Hey! Not here!
— Won’t spill it, chill dude.
He sighs,
Roaming around a darkened cavern
A diamond sword in hand.
He puts on a song he knows I like.
It flutters around us
Like a swarm of frightened moths
I feel I might explode—
Mother’s room
Wait, it’s night already?
But, I just had—
Perfect.
Beautiful.

My room.
The books laugh
The walls laugh, the clock laughs
I feel I might be melting
A night stands dressed up
At the end of the aisle
And I, a bride to be butchered,
Butchered, butchered
Then wed again

Time to study
(not the books,
the ceiling)
Haha.
Tricked ya.
Here, that rhymed, ******
Is this a poem yet?

(Why the hell am I in kitchen again?)

Have you yet heard the painting
That the baker's daughter yester sold
That bears the bones of a day of old:

It dragged on streets, nearly gratting
The stillness that turned all eyes above
The farmer gave the farmboy a shove

And home he racing fled to tell
A war had come and it called for fight
Out skipped children bleating and bright

So swirled a red in sky's blue dell
And keen blew ancient horns of doom
As upon a frothing dark then loomed

The battle in rows lifted its heads
And far was heard the whistle of sword
As forth in silver might the horde

Came dancing right to our door-beds
For hours did bold a circus ring
Of cling, clang, and clatter and ring

And then, fair pilgrim, woke a slip
A stumble in storm's slim discipline
And down went warriors one by one

Quick passion gripped on sky's red lip
And sank a sinking sweet defeat
As we welcomed home the rain's bare feet

Some people are so fiery a sky
No thunder rules their ground—
no ablazed suns

Some people run to other people;
they take less or more of their lands
—like all they have or
A little more still
to the furious seas where no god lurks.

Some still, are glass
or breaking bits of it
They love a sky, with lightening
ploughed.

Some nights are restless, oozing words
Some,
So vacant a fall—
Some then, somewhere within.

No thunder, no people, linger on this coast.
No gods; none built;
no suns bow—
Still, the noisy silence reels
Slow and sudden its dive,
as we, in talons, wilt
And still we, in skies, slither.

Light and little;
mistaken,
so easily, dead—

Laced with blue
Embedded with rue
I put on my dress
Shining with fluke
Inside I'm a mess
Out awaits a duke
Prepare I to flatter
Try I not to shatter

Trembling, I open the door
My heavy eyes on the floor
I hear the sound of his smile
Takes then he my bony hand
We walk slow, down the aisle
I think I feel them all stand
they gawk at our spotless shine
power, beauty, a match so fine

A perfect walk in a perfect hall
till body decides to give in and fall
In sudden, I hear all of the silence
name me, label me til I'm unnamed
gore me, control me, I've seen violence
I've been through, I've been trained
face of my duke's engraved with a frown
I still, I shrink, again I've let him down

though kindly he extends a hand
though slowly I take the stand
though still perfect we are together
I who saw glass break to shards
know many pieces we can't gather
know too many unflipped cards
too many of them yet to be turned
too many secrets yet to be learned

Adorned in red,
made with regret
he put on his dress
with misery so bright
to meet his mistress
on this cold, dead night
still he wished a try
to being her some joy

scared he knocked with grace
admired then her pretty face
saw her walk, then fall slightly
and helped her back with glory
tiresome it was to walk quietly
wished he to say he was sorry
but he too knew it was in vain
they had to suffer this ugly pain

Though he loved her deeply
and knew so did she briefly
there were other things to adore
power, pearls and dresses that sway
wars, swords and bodies to gore
still he hoped, oft sat down to pray
for return of life in their dry eyes
for a melody of their silenced cries

As I shatter to velvet ground again
their eyes follow me down like rain
though jewels don't match with love
it too has long run away perhaps
Spread its wings, out gone the dove
next to me, I see my duke collapse
how lovely, we are the perfect ashes
of two impatient, imperfect clashes

So white
I thought it would tear through
Red revolution, gritting stones
Electric convulsions
And ivory tides

I felt children weep
Soft, long sleeves soggy as lattice
That, flayed to leaf, too long
On porcelain lay
Hisses and gasps—
Were sobs always so volcanic?
Like suns— erupting— quite not—
Wilting— to stars— blinking—
Gushing upon—
Each other; a strange confiding
Nakedness

And feathers
In bronze dressed— stuttering—
Stuttering, bubbling
Would that the flood would loosen

Rather melt—

Rather the moon than Jasper,
— It’s gory quiet
Rather pebble
Rather mud-licked bumbling babble

But melt— melt— Oh,
Never quite full for the night!

I feared it would burst
Crowds of red-cloaked seeds
Into a havoc of fruit and flesh

I feared I a dandelion
Would open— would sway away, away
From bits and bits— of me, but

It hit— hit, hit hit
The jagged black insides of mine
And I was real

I was real

Gasping— gasping, till it—

12:36 am

Lord, this night does keep its quiet
not of our silver gyre does it tire

a thousand times I watch it rise
a thousand slips of its drips

up-down-up-down-up-down town
I watch its crowds black and brown

I watch the trees, the silver bees
Lord, this night is not night quite

When leaf drips off the plants like dew
I know I have failed
Fog on poor gold settled thick
And knuckly branches grasp at my trousers
As they whisper by

Like a nightmare full of the dead

Sorry, I say
With that same wet-paper voice of mine
My footprints forgotten
On dust-dressed tiles
I cannot water you, dear Pothos
I need not
You have no limbs left to feed and
I know I have failed

Failed.

(And so mine a being
In an echoing of souls)

Failed?
Such pretty your tales
And freeing miseries

Sinking frantic
In a devour of spring
These the tentacles of my beautiful Aloe
These the stout roses
My,
My mirthful Jasmines
And grasses–– alive!

Failed?

Green at last!

You bathe in blues and
Craft tragedies from mud
Ruin your love
And despair a bed-slave pretty

Could I weep–– interrupt or scream
But I am wood and they are not

Failed?
Or would you rather?
For fall for you is an effortless flight
And funeral the only peace
Then mourn!

Could I shut the window and
Bar it against the raging city
But breaks— it breaks breaks breaks!

Mourn and mourn!
Till the daylight goes to sleep
And mourn with your wretched stars
For the night

You mock!
Oh, be voiceless, sessile
Thorns again!

And when in the morning
The moon is dead
And thinner our stems
We will say
With that same parched clinging of ours:
We are not dust yet
Are you?

––

You do not hear it
The lone has a singing
Like silken threads of the wind
When it walks through the city
Its robes draping
Over walls and as shadows
Darkening the noise
Our legs dangling,
We breathe in smoke
Dust and traffic talk
Nothing is beautiful but we stay
Nothing is as we had fancied
Everything gentle slinks away
Revolted and charitable
And we run our fingers
Along jagged concrete edges
Waiting as if
For something
Waiting as if
For something
Sorrow comes
A tender companion
And leads the night away to obscurity
I dream of laughter
Tumbling as pebbles into terror
Clumsy and crude, bluntly myself
I stumble through myself
Searching as if
For something
Doors open and torches are lit
The labyrinth unwinds perhaps
Or starts to, slow and sleek
As if in tune to the song
And almost the spectre of reticence
Is cast aside for rebellion

But then, the morning comes
And I am a tyrant again

12:15 am

now the paper
feels as gentle moss
beneath the feet

and now I have
no words to write
for the night

is the body ever quiet?
now the wrist moves
and I become a crowd again

and
now
one

and now
I am a sea
(I have never met a sea)

and now sad—
swear I do so
every night

and it is not even mourn
but just a hue
in the hues of the sea

It is strange and scary
To think so,
Still, I do
If I had not known music
I would’ve still known you
Still would’ve heard
The inarticulate whispers of your gown
Still then,
Gentle lashes silhouetted
Upon a sharp gaze

For the moon does not rise and set
Merely for its night
And the Mayna birds sing
But little to boast
For who dare boast but I
Who speaks and speaks, on, on of you

And they tire and groan
Who is this?
'Bet we could flicker a tad bit prettier
A sea’s sigh gentler than this leaf
That lives and lives, on, on in you'
Try then, I say, just try

Every dawn and dawn, they sing
Every dark and dusty blue
What do you think?
Curiosity tilts their heads
And I smile through my laughs
Still not, still not

And they wilt a little
Quietening down for a new show
Before a new sun’s birth
Before another shadowed sky

It is sweet and smooth
The envious mimicry
Of silver and song

Still not though, still not

No music I wish to wade in
Just the touch and touch of her breaths

it is like a Koel’s cry
in the midnight tremors of time
it is sweetly sour
like orange juice or an Autumn’s flutter
shrill like a woman’s touch
or day’s gold
on some purple curtains

I don’t know…

in this blue dark,
with silhouettes of a forlorn city on glass
it sounds so real
I linger here listening
blinking with the clock

Thirty minutes to go
The clock blinks, smiling
At the fidgeting class

Its green eyes shifting
With sly patience
Pulling everything along

Chairs scrape the hard-wood floors,
Rush, collapse against walls;
The second resets
And they are back again.

All heads sag
Like ochre leaves
We are all trees now,
The dry air of knowledge
Eats our skin.

What?
The soulless buzz of fans
Their bland sobriety
Sloshes, swishes

Past our feet
Like bees
Their honey dripping

Flooding the brains
Muting all images
The professor is a forever sound
We hear, we hear, we grow old

Twenty minutes to go

green green
like moss beneath Moon
and Moon is lit up, perhaps
half or more or less some little
as leafy litter tickles the street
and a gust
in riot
solitary opens
with a voice of Autumn and
bronze dust body
that in nails and toes
of alleys and houses
sits and sleeps
old lady knitting spiders
and rats
in antique blazers of black
as a car whispers by
swift like a hiss
or a city’s small sigh
that startles the silver-eyed lizards
and they scatter
as wheat breaths away
into into into the browny blue
and gold gold
like cold sun
that beats and licks all noise to fire

and rises, it rises fatly
with the lone gust and the white

1.
Hibiscus rue.
citrus.
cataclysm.
but so gentle rue.

2.
A cappuccino night
eavesdrops,
the lamp sleeps slouching
its jaw slack,
my clock's monotonous cadence
is loyal as always

4.
A quaver
from a cadaver
that is what muttering trucks
do to the night

It is like startled birds:
they never sit back just right

5.
Insomniac mosquitos
have a *******, I think

The night sky
moves like a swarm

I watch it like a friendless owl
but I am happy

Not still, no, the rumble still plays
With thunder
And vehicles onwards go
There are so many clouds
And albeit too far their talks
I can almost imagine

No poems or music
Weaved upon lyres
Today, they too
Are polluted with normality
Such treacherous natures
Of this ever-stirring yonder
The surface speaks art,
And in depths aridity crawls

Cruel, so cruel their lightness
How I painted and sang
Of their rich tummies
How I danced in their blood

They chirp now a vacant gossip

I should’ve known
I should’ve lurked away
From their shows
Breathe now I in the rue and in a dim, dim fury
So cruel, so cruel the blue
So cruel and cold
In its silence
I hummed my throats parched
In mine, it vanishes, vanishes to grey

But tread on
The car stops and I slide out
Back in my rehearsed role
My stinging skin melts beneath the mask
The classroom roars

It is awfully quiet today

12:47 am

I like poetry
I like the company of it
the gathering laughter
the calmness of it

I like silence
and the lightness it wears
I like its chest,
the full embrace

and I like the night
especially its eyes
as it blinks itself awake
and as it sways
like an old woman
in her prayer

I like body too
how it tires
and how it jolts up again
its sweet sleep,
the strangeness
I like the geometry,
the dual nature of it.

Sky rests above this land
sky hangs bellow it—

and this world keeps spinning
and we keep running
we skip over the spiralling ropes
Jumping, ever jumping—
afraid to get strangled up
afraid to kiss the ground

What if this land tore open—
ripped and ripped till it were two
who would take us—

for we keep running and running
and we jump over the ropes
we jump then jump over again,
searching for wings on our arid backs
—we’d sail away if we could
and oh the worlds we’d see!
and secrets unleash

so we keep running and running
elevating our hopes up and up
till we’re one in the winds
but we never fly—
We fear the fall
afraid to wade into the unpredictable yonder
to rely solely on mercy of the grey bellow
—it entombs the people we loved and knew
feasting upon them, patiently
and nothing we can do will ever make it better

so we keep running and running
to keep warm our freezing hearts
but we cry only ice, it rolls down our bodies,
setting our flesh on fire, but we keep running
chasing the horizon where
sky is known to open her arms

but what lies above the sky
and if the ground split open
where would we go—

We laugh our questions away
and answers never sail our way
but then we blend in dirt and they lift us off
in their quiet arms; take us away
Where all’s to be seen and all’s to be heard
but there’s no one left,
and if a void is never seen or heard
what is there of the void but nothing

what lies above the sky
is it where all dead go
or where all unborn meet—
Is it where no one lives
or where no dies—

but its nothing we haven’t seen
for we implant our homes
not among the clouds but right here
on this broken land—
where no one lives and no one dies;
no dead leave and no unborn are new

and we keep running and running
for the world keeps spinning and
twisting and turning like a giant ball of clay
and we keep running and running--
mere pawns in an eternal play

we skip and we skip over the ropes
we then spin them for others
and watch them skip—
whirl away laughing when some
stumble and fall; these are our games
we keep laughing and laughing
hoping to laugh it all away

but we build our emerald halls
and dance in euphoric stalls
We invent new lands among the stars;
Tales of stollen dreams and made up hopes
tales of heroic norms and perfect forevers

and we smile in the starts and
we smile in the ends—
drink under our jewelled roofs and
Sleep with our flowers and pearls,
we paint this sky on our dreams
and remember it in our poems

But we’re not happy
But we’re not happy—
But we’re not happy.

and if this bruised land
that starves for our flesh
split open—

Where would we go?

12:50 am

everyday
the words accumulate in me
and at night
I shoo them out
I never know what they are going to be
it is like a smoke
one sniffs all day
but does not smell

how dreary…
how unaware we stay
of all that makes us
what is it that blinds us,
if not the gaze with which we see

sometimes
the words become dreams
sometimes
tossing turning wake
and emptiness sometimes—
or like right now
they become it all
sometimes
I turn on Faizan’s brutal bright lights
and I uncap my pen
and I watch this page
and I pick my nails
and I think think think
it may sound silly
but those are words too.

and Osamu did say
everything passes

everything passes
winds run on, scatter
to cloud on the sky
electrons
through eyes of streets
oscillate
between days and darks
and then they too tire
say
Osamu believed
before I could:
everything passes

wait and—
would we wait and see if everything passes?
we will pass in the waiting and it is so so simple

Osamu
everything passes…
Osamu
perhaps we never will

here
love tides
through age
and knowledge
just as shiny
comes, lures, goes

Osamu…
here

perhaps not your humanity
but this was your curse
that in every passing moment
you stayed
and to no staying
could you hold

everything passes
it’s funny
we will too
it sounds like a lie

A war broke out inside my head
an enraged battle fought at my birth.
A battle won but ever lost or so the legend goes.
Decades have passed since the first ever scream,
but the ashes of children still tickle our noses.
Maidens still shudder at sight of red leaking from butchered goats
Remnants of soldiers still hide behind darkened caves.
Sometimes a bone or two is found; mostly mere teeth.
They’re placed in dirt without any tears or mourns
for no one knows and those who do are far gone.

A war broke out inside my head.
They say people fought people with people as weapons.
The battle was won and ever lost
for no one was dead who had not killed
and no one lived who had not died a little
Our fathers fought our lovers’ fathers or so the legend goes.
Farmers still freak out over shooting stars
they’ve witnessed many that didn’t stop in the sky.
Veterans still get caught staring at voids.
Graveyards are full, insects are full,
bodies lay impatient to be gnawed away.
Rivers are full, fish are full, no one dares find out with what.

A war broke out inside my head.
They tried burying the bloodstained spears
but every flower seems made of flesh, every leaf a forgotten scream
No hands were shook, no promises signed;
the battle ended when the fighters did or so the legend goes.
Kids begin sobbing at quietest of sounds,
folks have forgotten all lullabies
Nights are awoken by shrieks of asleep,
cannons still snarl in cloudy dreams.
Halls still reek with smell of hunger.

A war broke out inside my head
and though emotions have long made up with thoughts,
memories still sway free with sewed up faces and missing limbs.
People stopped speaking of days long gone
but the air still echoes with tales unheard
Skulls of friends were stollen of brains,
limbs of children were cooked on coals, or so the legend goes.
Buildings shoved to the ground, graves robbed of beings
The battle was won and ever lost.

A war broke out inside my head
and though the sky still shudders with the silence of ground
We’re trying. Trying to make sense of the winds
Trying not to connect tides with sunken ships,
overflowing with sons and daughters and wives.
A battle took places some ages ago,
and though we still confuse chopped lambs with—
We’re trying. Brick by brick, we cement this rubble back to shops
Seed by seed we’re replanting our orchards.

A war broke out inside my head
And though old men still tremble at unusual of times,
Children still struggle to tie their shoes,
women still run fast through empty streets
and fathers still weep behind the doors, we’re trying.
Ash by ash, we’re sweeping away the left out war.
The battle sailed off and though the war goes on
We’ll die bringing this kingdom back to life.
We're fallen men among cindered thrones, but
feather by feather we'll rebuild our wings.
Flutter by flutter we'll reach the sky

So, please hold on.
There's so much left.

12:45 am

everything passes
winds disperse
to clouds scatter

wars dissolve
to remnants and
pinpricks of song

everything passes

How do I and where do I begin?
Every step is a shallow abyss.

Far right corner of the road flooded with people
There sits a muffled figure
so used to my eyes I barely saw her.
A drowsy woman holding on to a petite child
Her shawl covering her inexistent being
and the earth she rests on,
almost unknowingly
A boy sits next to his kins,
chews on his nails, eating them up
I do not blame him.
I imagine him staring at the crowded ice-cream shop
on the other side of the road
the aroma of cream and sugary flavour,
the smell of happiness calling out to him
circling around his being trying to turn him on
forcing him to cover his ears in his harsh embrace,
close his criminal eyes and force his tongue
into believing the fingertips are sweet.

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

How do I and where do I continue?
Every step is a hungry despair.

On the inviting ice-cream shop,
I see a girl of my age walk around the land
carrying a couple of toys as she shows their feats trying
to draw some worthless attention
I see her walk for hours,
I see riches dare not buy the cursed creatures.
I hear play-boys hitting on her
for her dusty shimmering face.
I watch as she closes her eyes
as if remembering the vulnerability of her being,
and quickens her pace, fear flickering on her profile
She walks. Her hands timid over the things,
her eyes active in the crowd,
searching for children to arouse
I watch as she walks and offers,
walks and offers, walks and offers
only to be turned backs on.
Folks, they wrap their children into their refuges
as if she were a wolf ready to ravage them apart.

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

How do I and where do I go?
Every turn is guarded by angst.

Where did the dog go? Oh, here he is.
His tongue sticks out of his mouth
like a dying man crawling towards a mirage
His eyes twinkle at every movement
like a pirate searching for ship in a stormy ocean
The women shopping for clothes, and
girls choosing their jewels
the guys gambling away their lives,
and winking at the youthful blooms
as they giggle with blush smiling down their necks.
The happiness holds no life for him.
He moves as his legs in front
drag the burdens behind
The scar on his back gleams
like the new-born moon
that people are celebrating tonight.
Every night I see him wander
but today he wanders with hope
in his placid eyes, and it breaks my heart
that soon he will wither away and we,
we will celebrate the break of dawn

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

I could go on and on describing this dark
but it's getting harder to continue the walk,
and it's getting much tougher not to fall.
The pits are getting deeper,
as scars, they grow brutal
I fear the despair will raze my being.
So now I'll come to a hault.

And what good would it do,
if I went on with my words?
No one stops to listen anyway.

The woman will still be there
Poetry wont give her a home.
the child, still chewing his skin
poetry wont buy him some sweets.
The girl will go home with her toys
Poetry wont gift her some cash
The dog will curl up in a corner and die
Poetry wont bring him back to life

I went out to write of hope, believe me.
I do not hunt for death in the darkness of night
I went out to write of hope, I promise,
of the happiness and excitement of ponding hearts
for the Eid that this crescent had brought
But all I could see was death in darkness of night
And don't blame me for inviting despair

Dont you dare blame me for noticing the dark
around the moon and her dancing stars.
The crowd dances on the beat but the drum,
she screams and shouts in angst and pain.

The hopelessness of a lively day to come.

02:20 am

need a poem be good
for it to be true
good poems resonate
but need all always do

were the heart a still
forlorn principle
need it know no moving
of a tinkling ripple

what of machines—
do the gears not rhyme?
and must they really do
for the flowing of time

for how a young girl
lost in fear
so intricate delicacies
of secrets must hear

if a poem be hard
to achieve a task
where must one turn
to evacuate the flask

that bubbles anew
every new day—
need a poem be smart
to hold it at bay?

need a war be fought
to sing of a war
and need warriors,
comparing, spar?

is not a poem alone
as is a man alone
must then we all adorn
the sounds of a mourn

You have stolen my mighty dreams,
my glorious goals and ardent aims
that I had set with such delight.
Came you in at night, through
a window left carelessly open.
Put you them all in a bag, threw
then them out the same spot.

You then ate some flowers,
drank their essence, gulped
down all my hopeful cookies.
Climbed then you out
the same way the same way
climbed you in.

As if you had just not plucked the life
out of a an arid apartment.
As if the mountains you climbed were
not the result of your own deeds
As if the snow coughing sky did not curse
you for the cold you emitted.

Now here I am!
This ramshackled mess hugging me tight.
Scattered bricks of my own thoughts,
broken cement that my passion has become
Naked foundation, a mere shivering skeleton
but they say they see no destruction.
No wall needs fixing, no glass is bleeding.

I haven't cleaned remnants of the flower ***
the echo of the essence still lingers around
the halls like a silent ghost of the dead
Cookie tray buried under the dust of dishes
has long since given up hope for a new life.

Here I am now!
Two hundred years later,
still staring I am at my self-painted sky,
wishing to the electrified stars, questioning
the dimly blinking suns.
Still wondering I am!

How you managed to come inside
when there was no window to begin with.

My teeth are blunt from leisure
I refrain from bite, the flesh
Is just short of spice, but it
Would suffice, would that I
Willed; would that I. My jaw
Bolts shut like a fist and I ****
My body in on itself. Close, all
Movement close, I shall take
Nothing of this. I shall
Lie here, pale and pure as
Sterilised steel and let the
Earth steal what is due but
It will not grow, not one sour
Bloom from my sterile stew.
Let it taste and grimace,
Ransack then my sallow face.
And cold or old, my jaw will clench
Ever as bold and when all is done
In heavens and above, let it
Bellow upon God's flat face:
I did not take. I did not take.

I wonder how this cold, cold winter night
differs from death
twin sisters parted at birth;
one fixed and waited for,
other uncertain and feared
both mixing up their definitions

Numbness of my hand, my feet;
first a painful cold gust,
then a painless colder one
current under skin, fire in bones.
then you start to loose the sensation of cold
finger by finger, every vessel giving in
every muscle shuddering alone
so alone, so alone, so alone
your body could split asunder
how can the cold hurt you then
you've become a part of it

"peace at last" you whisper to night
but for how long, love, how long?
a mere second for
soon your blood will tire
your blazed heart vanquishing from its own ice
your teeth will turn on each other in desperation
hammer upon hammer and the battle will begin

"slow down, shut down" you plead to your aching body
so she does and
you lie still, snow casketing your being
soon you blend in with the dirt
but how long will you play the dead?
how long before you get it?
the twin is not coming
the night's cold but so's her sister
she isn't here, she doesn't pity

how long will you hope for her?
bandage the bruise, there's too much blood to bleed,
back away from the fall, put down the pistol,
untie the choker of rope, drain away the pills,
get off the bridge, step out the fire
you don't deserve an escape
you don't matter enough

soon this winter will sail away
and all your sins will be uncovered by the decaying snow
soon the sun will come out
tell me, how will you survive that light?
how to prevent your skin from cracking to shards
you're not numb, love, you only pretend to be
you're not dying, love, you aren't that lucky

you're not stuck but it doesn't matter
for you'll always find a way to prove against it
you'll build up a barricade around your chest
and cry out how painful it is to breathe
you'll dig your own grave and lie down dead
but dying won't **** you
you built up your fort and crushed it to groud
lit up a fire, watched your wings vanish to dirt
you're not stuck but it doesn't matter
you'll always find a way to tie up your hands

I'd let this winter freeze you to death
you'd reborn
I'd let the summer melt you away
you'd reborn
I'd call out to death, let her take you along
you'd reborn
you're reborn and die and reborn and die
and reborn and--

you'd die
"peace at last"
reborn.

I stare out unable to spot out
a light, a spark, or a sun on this starless night
and I start to feel the numb, hopelessness
arrive and take control of my insipid body,
I wish.
An act I stopped practising ages ago.
I wish that I could paint a moon and splash some stars
on the dead sky outside my glass window,
and watch it till dawn comes out.
-A fake reason to hope

Ruffled hair, love, ruffled hair
I tear open the ground above
you push out the wooden door
this room is but ever unchanged
your skin— a stollen shore

Breathe in, love, breathe out
waves upon come tip toeing—
scared then off by a nasty storm
dust feasts all over our flesh
I give in on you, our desolate norm

Sleep on, love, sleep on
I grab what here is left of you
one swift jump; away I flow
this starry night is— if unlit
your shy life: an empty, ebbing show

stay serene, love, stay serene
unmoving cloud, you dance like dusk
mirroring, above— I lovingly sway
I see a light beneath your shine
you this withered water shan’t take away

your skin— a stollen shore
this room is but ever changed
you pull in the wooden door
we lie along with ground above
ruffled bones, love, ruffled bones

—Night, night at last

What nonchalant carnage did you leave
To rot on my skin?
Rub and rub, I rub in vain.
A cling so sure
Like birthed for me

Seep then in the rhizoids deep
Sack, sack the village to stream

To river to smoke

As sea, as sea, and only so, I see

You, the circus balanced on the lashes of your feats,
hues yours
Binding, blinding their hiss and shine
Trembling a string I
Spit and spit naught but I

Full to brim, this yonder of mine
Full and choking, homesick a home
Dry and dust— the blossoms of mine

Burn and burst of bone and beast
All onto the beach, bloodless, breathes

And I cannot even— I dare not even
Wash it away—

02:37 am

I have something more to say
frail like a young stem
something just as green

I think if I were to die:
here; now
I would not be upset
and I think if I were told just now
that I was to live
forever here
I would not be upset still

and it is sweetly silly
that love makes
letting go easy—
sometimes, perhaps
perhaps a short love only
a sensation that visits
only in the gentlest of nights

perhaps this will be my lover
and my war
perhaps it will be one
because it will be other
it is sweetly silly

Your majesty, I’m not here as a beggar
I am here to deliver to you a letter
carved on a bruised piece of wood
And why not paper you may ask
For life can tear you up, says good

Travelled without a moment of rest
for I’m here to deliver you a request
Plea of a human who lives far away
past the Childish hills, in Forest of youth
Where hopeless souls, they walk astray

I’ve kept it safe from every danger
hidden it away at sight of any stranger
Here I am from a being you once tore
With due respect, O king, I’ll dare say
It’s not for the sheeps that he wore

It’s word of a man, all who does is lie
But to this, I’d say it’s an utmost envy
To indeed all the souls who now rest
who lie in eternal peace away from you
For you, they say, are a knife in the chest

Pardon me, lord, please, leave him alone
He’ll be glad, he wishes for him to be gone
Says he he’s sick of hunting in that place
For no one’s a patient in Forest of youth
An escape from your reign is all, your grace

I’m here from a person who wears a mask
For showing your scars is not an easy task
Begs you to pity, shoot right through the heart
Make it stop, end your prey, take the game
With your mercy could he begin a new start

Now that I’ve done my job, I have to go
I too loathe you, thought you ought to know
Out on the distant land, we all see a light
O king, O life, we traitors have one last wish
Wish we to banish from your kingdom tonightr

You turgid, pompous, twitchy, you leave
No room for word. For thought, for
Silence violins, for tip toeing quiet
I am paltry poet, a woman of pursed lips
And body twined like a thread between
Your thoughtless finger and thumb
I was to dress in weightless garments
And skip a cricket about the greens
There was nothing in me contained.
You fill me up like a memorial wall

And dust me everyday before dawn
And you polish the hundred frames
That hang with mirrors clean as sun
Within which peer the hundred eyes
Of people who mourn themselves sweet
And a sag of roses red as me
Mourning itself about my feet
You bring me no gifts but a sorrow
That is not mine. With kisses sharp
As lemons, you soothe me then
Into the night, and you wipe the faces

Clean and you love me till I am
Mirror again. I was no dream
contorted in memory to a clever liking
I was to dress in simple garments
and write off to the seas, I was silence,
Simply, slow and tender, come
To lurk and stray in senseless song
I was word. I was word. I was word.
You with your hundred eyes of love

Swift with hands that move like flames
Flicker, stone, sand, stars, applause
You fatten me up like a suitcase
With your hundred other faces of me
And it burns like music, it is daisies
And sugar, you - beast, bountiful,
Beautiful and blighty, I want to
Clutter myself up with you - by Lord,

But, need I get up and go
And twist and twist myself till
It's dead. Then turn and bleed in peace
For long - then void and white - love,
You will. You will not kiss me again
To sleep.

They will not yearn as crude as I
I will tie you up
My grief, sweet *******, is you
My despair laughs at your victory
There is nothing to spare here
Go and gulp the dry world up
Go or do not
I will feast on nothing
               and I will rejoice

Ik ik I get it
It's 6 am, I have not slept and I am
SO HAPPY
or was before I stopped.
I think. It was, it was... I am an eletric tower
My fingers are copper
It was like a surge of joy, electric, buzzing
I could not stop i could... I had to dance
But i typed instead to people so many
People who were
Also typing and then i was in there
In the wires, i was dancing, my wrist
Had started to hurt but the people
Kept coming my way to talk
In my ears, they were, in my eyes
In my eyes eyes my fingers were
Mine but what a possession it was!
What absent pilgrimage, i
Analysed myself. I was... it was a dream
I say. I am awake. I forgot to sleep.
I say, it's okay. You are body
At the end of the day. I am. I am
But i say it everyday so much i say it
So much. Body, body. I am

I must sleep. It is dawn. There is
Finally silence in my mind
There is Finally room
For air

I waited: the winter
was draped over my feet
my eyes were beginning to pickle -
the lamplight was oil
waiting was the flavor -
slowly... they softened

and then,
some time after midnight
I hear the clatter of stars
as you bring your stories in a basket
the sky spreads itself for you
and you speak so much
everything begins to yawn

I close my eyes to sourness
and feel the months fall around us
bouncing, not quietly,
not loudly, just
enough for company
and I cannot sleep while you speak
I... am waiting.

We forget the tides as they claw on
Into the purple oceans of old
We forget the shores
Thousands, ten thousands
And then so many more
As ***** mix in with the seagulls
And seashells we lose
Through toiling of wave wave wave
Everything passes

Night's cold, mate.
I can feel it on the misty glass,
sense it in my shivering breaths
Please scoot closer, I feel so small
the sky outsides whispers her song
I swear the notes are breaking these walls
tell me you too hear them cracking
Tell me this roof is splitting asunder
for if not--

I swear I am, mate
I feel the tune zip open my chest,
sense it banging at my bare ribs
please hold tight, I feel so eternal
these cold winds are creeping in
I swear these blankets are empty clouds
tell me you too hear them stars roaring
tell me this quiet hasn't begun screaming
for if not--

something has, mate

something has to for I swear someone's playing my vessels,
tell me you hear my cry, not a flute weeping,
swear these trembling fingers do not play the piano;
tell me, mate, tell me you hear no sound,
tell me there are no trumpets gnawing at my bones
tell me the gusts don't hit like drums, tell me, tell me

what are you saying,
why do you sound like a dreamy harp,
hold me, here, stab this flesh, scream out, I need not this euphony,
tell me, mate, tell me you're screaming not playing a violin,
cover me, here, tear at this skin, don't sing me to sleep for I swear
these walls are falling, tell me you too can feel them around,
why do you dig around my lungs, why does my breathing
sound like bells, what are you doing pulling at my heart,

tell me, mate, tell me I am not caged in this sky,

tell me, tell me I am not one in the night, why am I burning,
where are my lungs, tell me you too hear this melody laughing
tell me I spit out shrieks not some dancing musical waves,
what are you doing, engraving me with blades, what are you doing
why are you ripping apart my heart, where did the winds
take all my breaths, tell me the window didn't shatter,
tell me I am not one in the shards, why won't these chains choke,
what is this hollow my chest has become,
***** me, wake me, here, rip open this skull, tell me there's no light, where is the moon, where did the dark go, where did the dark go  
what are all these suns for, tell me you hear me,
tell me you hear me, tell me you hear me scream,
tell me you hear no music, tell me you--


Night's cold, mate.
moon's still here, you need not run
don't go back under the bed,
I need you here