spoiled milk and wilted flowers dried up like tobacco
and all the air musty the litter and entropy of it pulls at your
attention. roaches and moths and junebugs tapping against
the glass or skittering
across your floor, climbing up the walls and into a corner
eyeing me probing the air with its antennae.
oil caked on the glass thoughts in my head
spurting red broken bones and shredded muscle
deliciously sinewy.

flush it down. inhale and head rush legs weak smile written across my face as my mind
recoils in terror and confusion
the world waves and warms. it shines.

nag champa blackwood currents and shisha
oily anticipation. just a few hours now and there will be reprieve
i can go back and heal from this confusing binge.

skies are blue. helicopters hover their way over the city and suburbs.
the tower spins its light. floating and warmed I wander back home.

the dreams might be hellish
sleep might not come at all
the time it takes to readjust is staggering.
yellows shades and water and lots of **.

now to disappear completely. leave the damage.
not a trace of yourself though.
run a massive burn
and then escape unnoticed.
sayonara.

It may be grey and gloomy,
out on the moors,
but we have our cozy world,
inside of doors!
Our world is secret and snug
and looks out on plaintive air;
a sprawling country field with
blowing mists thither and who knows where.
We'll have our tea and our stories
and our expectant silences.
We'll let the bleak backdrop of time ebb
and flow, while we admire a vase of Irises.
Ours is a curious cradle of contentment --
just two friends living
a shared imagination against
a mad world, rife with resentment!
We'll spend the hours and stay our journey for
we have peered through the looking glass
and finally come to know:
our trip is spontaneous and
it doesn't matter which way we go!

Who are you? I will probably never know.
Your words are decorating my bending soul.
In silent mornings when I drink my aromatic coffee
Reality disappears, and hypnosis unfolds.

Who are you? The longing that knows my heartache,
Words that I used to believe so easily?
A mute Self, between much white and much black,
Looking constantly for himself in the gloomy parade?

Who are you? You are the world's greatest discovery
Who learnes all about the soul's immortality?
Who sees ice and fire in two distinct colours
And silence speaks to you in tremendous words?

Who are you? A soul with congestion of lava
Who can erupt anytime, leaving behind just waste?
Or a heart pulsing, passing through conversion
And hides his feelings through lyrics and prose?

Who are you? Are you heaven's demonic angel
Who lives and has the courage to shout in the silence,
Who often plays serenades through written poems,
Through mute words, non-words with the gates closed?

Who are you? The one who thinks white will turn gray?
The one who hopes one day black can become white?
Try to see in the fog more colours of your life,
Don't care about time, dual space or duration.

14.01.2018 London

I painted my nails ultraviolet, color of the year
Sitting at my desk

Thinking about you, I read some books
Mark went by and asked how was my New Year?

"I went to watch fireworks", which wasn't true
he said, "I don't think you'll come to my neighborhood"

Staring at the monitor, thinking about you.
It is only 20 degree, I shouldn't go out to get lunch.
But I could paint my nails ultraviolet.

Got off work early, I carry the basket that I use to put my lunchbox in.
You're still in salt lake city,so I went for a mani,
and paint my nails ultraviolet

I am a city girl;
By blood and by birth.
The city is my place.
So many people!
So many buildings!
It's noisy, it's busy,
and that's why I like it.
But why, then,
Are people who live in cities
So much sadder than the rest?

Or so I've heard.
Cities may get gray.
Too loud.
Too bright.
Under the weather.
So I've heard, that
City people
Are
Sad people.

Cities are bittersweet.
All I ever wanted was
To add a
Little bit
Of
Sugar.

I guess that's what I'll have to do.
I just want everyone to be happy...

At 5, her smile was bright,
Which soon burned out like a fading light.
Made some friends, lost some more,
Tried being happy with a heart so sore.

At 13, she caked her face,
To fit in a world which was a maze,
Was called a ***** for trying hard,
Pierced her heart like a game of dart.

At 17, she found a love,
Thought she found a pure white dove.
Love was lust and shattered her,
He left her like a toy mere.

At 21, everyday she cried,
She ain't living, she just survived.
Wore a white gown, took a piece of blade,
Soon the white gown whole turned to red.