Thou art just, none more just than thee;
thou hast not forsaken me.
unto thee,
and to thee alone, I belong.

Silver springs are sung,
Soil keeps secrets—
longer than your tongue.

You & I
Were a beautiful lie
Like the long relieving sigh
Foreshadowing one's last breaths

Motherly Gaia ceases rotation,
It's a moonless night,
Bare of pulsing tide.
Newborn kids cease mortality,
& never die.
Then for split-seconds,
You “stand-for-no-one-and-nothing”
Above the sea of fog,
Naked.

Do you remember the dream?
the one of the many ends.
it leaned on the wall
as if waiting for someone else
to finish my sentence.

a body—without organs—asked for tea,
though didn’t seem to know
what to do with it.

kept writing in the margins;
later I saw the pages looked like
someone had tried to mark exits
on a map that led just back inside.

you once told me to stop underlining,
that the lines were heavier than the words.
maybe you were right.

maybe the dream had the right
when it got bored of standing still
& rather told me
how I’ve mistaken many hitchhikers
for uninvited guests.

and how I’ve been collecting
the 'wrong' scale of things:
a room remembered as a continent,
a gesture novembered into dust,
I put it back & call it nothing.

tales of the men at dawn, whom youth flew, some swam, some drowned, all of the Dead will always be alive; snowy numb bird by the nightfall. tales of the kids with clenched fists, in thousands of agonies — they exist. mornings and nights in the nothingness shoved. tales of the days that are yet to come, speaking of a world novembering, figures in the rain and jesters on the road, all before whom I stand, just like you, fratello mio.

This vast stinky lake,
I don't remember what dragged me here,
Nor the choices I did make,
That ended me up where I am.
I'm a leaf on windless days.
Indifferent, Clueless, In aimless ways.
That's how I have always been,
Without a trace.


But as I,
Keep sinking deeper and deeper,
I seem to have a clearer vision,
Of what I've done and what I've felt.
Regret sharpens,
And memories seem less hazy.
Yeah here,
I've found it.
Do you remember when I talked about,
That intense feeling of unfamiliarity,
About how I could never,
“Figure you out”?
What have been encircling your face,
Has got me to see that,
No matter how much I knew about you,
I will never know you.
Was it this which got me,
Fleeing away?
I'm not quite sure.
Well, no way.
It was something else,
That I Am, as well,
Not quite sure about.


Clouds are quieter now,
And sun loosens its grip.
But the current wraps me tight,
As I'm being carried away.
Then an old picture comes to mind,
Us on that bus,
Reading poems I stretched out,
Words about us,
And how I'm terrified,
By the reality of Time and Age.
It reminded me of a song,
And you of a book.
You said that I'm still young.
I laughed mockingly,
And played along.
Said : yeah, whatever.
It's June after all,
My youthful locks remain combed,
Unwashed by the November Rain.


The current is now,
Taking me to less pleasing places.
and it's another old picture,
That breaks its way into my mind.
The sight of your,
Immaculate tears,
Sliding down your face,
Born by my wrongs,
A sight I couldn't bear.
But I do have a selfish wish,
That after it's all done,
The scraps I wrote,
Would keep you company.
The sound of my prayer,
Barely stirs the current.
May those scraps bear testament,
That I have condemned myself.