A trio of compound realms I own:
A smile, a rainbow and unknown.
May I bake them? Fetch a pie
Of fruitful colours? Why
Won't it abound with the sky?

A trio of compound selves I bear.
Each dwells without and within.

Tell,
The way you cheated
On a chemistry exam, back when
Shells
Of a soul so tender
Existed holding not my hand.

Cornered,
in the dark of ever-rumbling mind
by the brain itself.
Wanted,
in the rapture of a different kind -
pictured in a cell.
Why so,
what builds a basin for a lady
for a boy would dig a suicide well?

Strolling
cross the lanes not flooded
with the folk, but with a rain:
Leaning
as perpetually the salty drops would be
an artist - cheap, exciting, vain.

A cypress tree.
She lives in the shade;
She Radiates sounds
Voracious with fresh.
It conveys what my skin
never been
Exposed to. I'm green,
Much greener than slim
Of the evergreen shape.
Is it sinful to crave
For a nap at her lap
Or to merge
With the scent of her sweat?

Fools, hey!
Look at the kid.
A cliche, you'd say:
A mournful glance,
Cerulean eyes, sarcastic wits,
A show-off. His stance
Is vivid with scratch on the knee.
A messy mop of the blonde
Straw on the head.
And yet
He's cleaner than us
Would ever be set.
With hands
As cold as the moon
And hotter than we'd ever melt.