I am wearing a ***** shirt,
It is crumpled and twice worn before
On days when laughter echoed the halls
Of aorta and vena cava,
But the sound curdled and went stale
As entropy ran through veins,
As my name rang in your ear,
The animosity grew in your cold stare.


I am wearing odd socks.
I haven’t found a partner,
Nor do I understand the use
Of matching two things the same.
If I were in love with the mirror
Then I should just wear one sock,
Let my sock’s noose sink into my supple skin
And slowly cut my ankle.


I haven’t washed my tie
In the entire time I have owned it,
Or the time it has owned me,
I feel the ***** cotton, wrapped
Tight around my neck-
Binding my words,
Suffocating my suffixes,
And the most heavenly of words have bruises…


The whitest of silken beds,
Was marred with blood
Before it was clad in armour,
Now nothing can harm her.


Nothing gets in..


The covers are not warm
And nobody sleeps there.


Less of a bed now,
Thinks defensively, now.
The colour begins to fade.


Ethereal façade


I don’t leave my door open anymore,
Darkness crept in
And I don’t dare let it out.
I have grown fond of the colour,
Or lack of it.
Personal pronouns-
The more I use the word ‘I’,
The less fond I become of it.

Should I compare thee to a summer’s day?
So many of my favourite days sway
To dismal states of entropy – deepest
Haze, I float like a red bloated carcass.
Fire burned this skin, curdles- shudders at warmth,
Keep in the shade; degenerate up north,
Spark a conversation- spark elation,
Medusa- overwhelming sensation.
Modest and calm countenance- Athena.
Fierce, warrior clad spirit- Dianna.
Sweet, elegant ethos glides on the wind,
One last nice thought before I am skinned.
Raining down in swarms of crimson raging
Flares- burn permafrost like Hades- Hell- fire.

Wrinkled. Dry faced. Charging down old stairs.
Not what I expected, but I lunged my frantic knife.
Wild eyes turn to wells as aged bright stars stare back.
Heart shattered visage glides, bumbling. Mirage.


Please go do some gardening. Your flowers are
Sick without you. I miss you. Dream spoilt. Crooked,
Half-hearted, direful springs sprout poison youth.
Seedlings blight your wrathful name as petals grow…


The flowers you grew colourless now bloom bright.
They miss grey! True blue is cold- burdened purple.
Feel the life drink backward, clutching an endless
Night you downed tools without final reconcile
Or friend blinded from drugs.
Now staring beyond a time-stained bitter fire,
Burnt images caught and ****** through empty dark
Tortured fear-stricken blood wincing agony- ****.


Fate lamenting, sharply-flashing, tortured picture,
Lying motionless. Bleeding internally.

I dive left before heading right, more times than I care to admit,
Each time I turn right and am not confronted, it feels like rejection,
A small death of little consequence for the life that could have been
So sweet, so superficial, a mini life grew- as I read your bio,
To be dashed in another instant of silence,
I have a tendency to rush into things without much guidance.

Your voice is sweet and smooth- to read,
Imagine a personality that fits- perfectly in the palm of my hand,
Conveyed in small white messages, poked through smaller holes,
Each one I read makes me feel a little brighter inside,
But each little light catches fire and dies, I must confide
That each one I read makes me feel alive.

But only for the moment, so I conduct another,
Small parcel containing another little piece of my soul,
“If you can feel your soul slowly, slipping away, that means that you still have one”
That is a phrase that will lead you to defeat before you have begun,
It leads to me giving away much less than I can afford,
These ‘one for one’ serotonin boosts are leaving me bored…

So maybe we could meet, go get something to eat,
I am sure that I won’t be bored by your topic of conversation,
Or at least I will try and make it look that way,
Because the cold reality is that we have nothing in common,
Except for a lack of self-esteem and an overestimation of our-
Social skills, next to non-existent,
I am perpetually distant!

I am sure that you were terrifically disappointed with last night
Because your messages are written on withered pieces of paper,
A full stop is the most definite thing that there is,
Subtle undertones have a pulse and it beats,
Black blood to and from a dying heart,
I should have known that you were poison, right from the start.

I once caught a sparrow, small and black, its wings shivered as I took it in,
Fed the poor little thing, stroked its breast and listened for a heartbeat,
There it was, small but strong, its pulse erratic. Scared creature,
After the day, it had recovered and was ready to fly away, as it was born to do
So, I broke my sparrow’s wings.

Now my sparrow sits in its box, its heart is small and strong,
But I don’t let it out to see the light of day for too long,
I love my sparrow, I look at it night and day,
My warm embrace, from time to time, reminds the thing that it’s mine,
I keep my sparrow in the dark

Today, my sparrow was looking as effervescent and as strong as ever,
It hopped with pride and glee and looked so lovingly at me,
So, I took it out of its box and placed it by the open window,
The wild-eyed adoration of Raa was in its eyes as it peeped at freedom,
So, I broke my sparrows wings.

My sparrow is looking a little tired and upset,
I placed it in the box without a friend or a strand of hope to live on,
I told my sparrow that I love it and that it is special,
And it believes that I love it as it loves me, but I only like it because it is black.
I keep my sparrow in the dark.

I guess it is a relief to see you
Again, my old friend. Cloaked, your head of blue,
You wander among the graves like fireflies,
Absolute darkness, jittering night skies.  
It never seems to fail to startle my
Child-like sensation of life passing by.
Orderly rows, rigid cartridge paper,
Ink and tax reports, functions to cater.
Misanthropic, naïve, idealistic
Degenerative and narcissistic,
Paranoid, poisonous, parasitic
Fear giver. Fear receiver. Entropic
Skeleton, dancing in caustic acid,
Looking on. A quiet, forlorn Aphid.