the night
had many eyes,
and spoke
in sounds that
a kid would be
interested.

the boy was
fascinated
by the secrets
of night.
but they told:
"don't keep awake
or look through
the window glass
you would hear
frightening voices,
and  animal sounds
of many kind.
                        ghosts,
                        wan­der
                       at night.
so, sleep
safe under bed sheets
but night
the enticing witch,
with long dark hair
that cover pretty much everything,
came near the window
and asked
"why don't you
open  the window
and see my garden
full of magical flowers"

the stars were happy
to see the child's face
they smiled,
night
looked happy in this turn,
they spoke in a tongue
understood by one another.

the boy was happy that he has nailed the lie.

"they said, you aren't nice,
eat kids,
i don't believe that now.
they don't know a thing
i love night sounds;
so soothing
like mother's heart beat"

the kid loved to
sleep near mother
listening to the beats
of her heart.
but  they said,
it was bad, he has to sleep
alone, even if he wets bed.

Then
he heard the ghosts speak
in gobbledygook
that  made him
uneasy and confused
when listened
it sounded like the
squeak of the moving  bed.
                             to the edge
                              of the room,
                              he tip-toed,
                              and peeped in
                             through the half closed door.


" a secret world was opened
in front of my eyes"
he later remembered
though the significance
then eluded him.

there was a dreamy light in the room.

two figures, clothes shed,
were in bed,
trying to overpower each other,
with a kind of ***** greed,
that was all he could then think,

then the scene became tense,
one got up on the other,
trying to get in to it,
"ghosts! they eat each other"
the boy thought with disgust.

he tip-toed back
to his bed,
and pretended dead,
to avoid the eye of ghosts,
as he was admonished,


and went to sleep,
to the tune of the lullaby,
the bed moving in unison,  created.
                  OOO

I wanted, but then
         she was more insistent,
I showed her the pin,
         with it's globular head
and pointed tip-
         evidently keen in intension.
She was bitten by the bug,
        "***** me hard with your pin"
she said,
         i got it,..the blood..
nobody was around that lakeside,
        at that time.

I saw three drops of blood
        on white satin.
I didn't stop,
        her eyes were butterflies
flitting around  white satin,
       and the blood-letting pin.

I remember the first time I saw you.

Is that creepy?
Probably.
Well I do.

And sometimes, when I get the chance,
I walk back to that place,
turn towards the sunset…
and I see you again.

It is winter in the ******* she nibbled,
minus festivities, strained fibers
of holiday's lore seeking confinement
in sore redness between your nails.

Like the last fervent muffle
of whizzing domino lines
struck by spring's sprigs,
the numbers nip in low spirits,
blackened from speech and stubble.

Hardly is the slow breath worth
your angled chin a glimmer,
because when the sun
snaps at your chest like an egg,

little do you know
how it commits adultery
when you sleep,
and only when you sleep.

It smells like snow.
The air whips crisply through
her lungs as she inhales.

It smells like new parchment.
The excitement of a new book
just waiting to be read.

It smells like Christmas.
Brings her back to when
even Santa Claus was real.

It smells like horses.
They always make her
feel completely free.

It smells like nostalgia,
      brings the memories back.

It smells like regret,
      pain follows each breathe.

It smells like fear,
      that she had but one chance.

It smells like hope.*
That fickle friend
    promises to catch her,
        but still lets her fall.

And now
It smells like you.
So full of the past
that I wish my lungs
                               would
                                      stop.