Come dear night,
My veil from all the
Dreadful tales of the world
As the sun spirals down
I welcome you with open arms.

Lie with me
Beaneath the moon
That’s not the least
Ashamed to spy on our
Little meeting.

The silence
Left in the wake of dead
Seems to be our piece,
Our cue for the ball
That didn’t happen till yet.

Perfect twirls—
I can’t help but
Feel your loneliness as comfort
To me ;

The night and I —
Perfect companions.

Is it coming back to me?

That haunting, haunting tale

Dressed in black and shriveled hair
She’s a mute, ever-lasting present

This city is her home
And she walks behind
Me at all times
Keeping an eye out for me—
What do you want
I scream
And
Scream
And
Scream
Nobody goes anywhere.

Intervene my present;
My future runs in red fluids

Flooding me,
It’s my own shadow
I cannot ignore

Biting letters
Or memories
Doesn’t make it go away—
No, the smoke’s leaving a
Trail

Follow me,
Follow me,
Follow me—
Engulf me—
I once said

How many moons ago was that,
I seem to have lost all senses

Red, yellow,green—
It’s all blurry

I have started anew now
(Or have I?)

It’s the same old me—
Just trying to hide her now

The night is long dead and cold
Then
I wonder why is she
The only one breathing

I close my eyes
And
I can feel myself dropping
Far far below
Like a feather from the heavens above
Only
I am not a feather
But bone and skin
And I can hear the break and tear
As I fall and crash
On the depths of the ocean
Which stretches and stretches
Below my feet
So depthless
I wonder how easy it is to get lost into it
This sweet merciful darkness;
Calling and beckoning me
Towards it.

Another landmark added
To my skin
I seem to have done it again

Under the harsh light
That falls from the solitary bulb

I bend the pocket knife
Just above the wrist
And
Watch with hallow eyes
As it bleeds

Out of my arms
Into the tiles,
Unto the floor

Blood,
Oh blood, so red.
I marvel at how red it always
Remain
Never matter if it’s a
Razor or knife I use
To draw it
It’s always red
And
I half expect
It to be black

Black like charcoal,
Charcoal which paints my ruins

I can die nine times
Alas, this one only being the fifth

How long can I keep up
With this air
Being ****** out of me
Day by day,
Second by second
I push anyone
Who comes too close
To me

Afraid I might damage
Them too

Like I damage myself
In every life
When I dabble
In hellfire.

And beaneath everything there’s another feeling, the last of them buried beaneath my bones.
The feeling of sitting in the dark, alone.
Some might see it as peaceful; a place for safe keeping for yourself but it’s anything but that.
Instead it is hiding, crawling up into this dark corner because of all the lights flashing at me.
They’re transfixing in a way though, these lights. Like the cacophony of moth wings near that one simple light that hangs suspended in the middle of a hospital room. It’s kind of rancid too in a way.
On reflection, everybody is trying to dissect me.
Dissect me till I am these layers of feelings I store.
But nobody can ever reach down enough to this hidden feeling.
Everybody wants to tear me apart; but I am only flesh and bone.
The only part of me that needs to be torn apart is the one in the darkness, where I am caged and begging to be torn apart.

I sit in the field
Where once myriads of gladiolus grew
Now—
There’s nothing but a heap of dried up grass here
In this barren space,
This isolated being.

Reckoning—
A shadow with a bone jaw
Gaps wide at me,
Baring it’s teeth.

Last of my breath
He draws me

Seven suns around my four walls
Are all to me there is

Tumbling down
I crack the floor
Which holds my past footprints

A shade of yellow, white and red
Is all there is now

And sacred fire burning
The burden off my parents

Imprinted
My sound besides someone else
And
Hands on the seven suns around my four walls —

The eight one
Never to be seen

It pulls me down
Under—
The endless pile of sand;
A bottomless sea

It hangs above me,
The clock hand moving—
Tick-tock

Water beads lace my palm
[they get sweaty]
Agitated—
Ashamed

For what I did

-guilt

I can see myself staring at the black curtained walls
Which hang from the wooden frames of demolished men with simple names
I can feel the grey in their eyes devouring
As their cloaked hands stretch forward like an endless trail
Until
They reach around my throat
Suppressing my wails
I scream and kick but nothing ever happens
It goes on as my skin rubs against my bones in agitation
And I am left with nothing but two breaths and a body full of raging marks