Tonight the ceiling fan
clicks with every turn.

The bedside clock ticks
and tocks in moonglow.

I close my eyes
and one by one
the light bulbs in
the house explode.

The darkness
becomes me,
I think.

I wear it silky black,
a spider-tailored suit
imponderous as ether.

I focus on the anesthetic sound
of a future breathing inside me.

Memory folds like
an obsolete map—

a distant archipelago
of diminishing stars.

Years ago, I’m sure,
we married in a copse
blue with wild hyacinth.

Tonight the satellites
cut like diamond tips,

lugubrious orbits etching
across a bedroom window.

Dawn always blooms with
the sound of breaking glass.

the darkened horizon
will attracts no birds today

the storm
won't adore the weak

a walk on the shores
would be a blind suicide

for the moon's love
would conjure the sea

clear water glass windows
bordered pure white
framing a distant horizon
softest shades of honey, fire, daffodil
and a sprinkling of translucent sky

one tree roots itself atop that small mound of
rolling green hill, its grass dying out
but it's still beautiful
i think they told me a person's image of paradise
is a place they feel most at peace

your ghostly voice whispers close and near
but i can't feel your breath against my ear

white noise, bad reception, it's all gone
outside, the sky is ash
but there's no fire or warmth to be found
as rain hails down and fights to break its way in through my window
i can see people running

they're all under hoods and umbrellas
scuttling around like the faster they move, the drier they'll be
but they're already soaked through
and i think of you, so different
how you'd throw your head back and laugh
open your mouth
catch the drops on your tongue, eyes squeezed shut
clenched in delight

you'd have stripped all your garments if you could
so full of life, so full of energy

the static bleeds into my awareness again
white noise, bad reception, it's all gone
you're a ghost of early winter past
and here it's mid-October

your anniversary is upcoming
i wish i could say it was you instead

i wish i could say that you aren't dead

The coldness of winter stretched everywhere.
Is there any possibility to remain alive?
I scrutinized around but they all appeared same,
Young boys with an expression of terror.
‘Is anybody there?!’ I gave out a long shout;
My voice echoed through the lonely desert.
No sound responded except my own.
Sometimes ago it was tremendously noisy
But with the trade of violence everybody hushed.
I walked around searching for existence;
Walking through the crowd of silence wasn’t easy,
As I frequently stumbled upon the figures of dead.
Some of the faces weren’t recognizable
Yet I identified the fear in their appearances.

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon my companion!
It seemed like he was having a bad dream.
His body was pierced by the bullets.
‘Wake up, matey!’ I shouted at him
‘Your mother breathes with a hope!’
But he didn’t care to answer back to me.
Tears welled up my eyes and so I spoke:
‘You have given up your life but for what?
Death for death? Suffering for sufferance?
I know you have sacrificed your breath
Yet you will live a forgotten death…’