love
-
Paralyzed and emotionally stunted, poet finds solace in unread words. Sometime tell me it’s wrong to be. Mad, about everything and nothing. Sad about something for sure. If God is real, is this ataraxis, or bad writing? Am I a background character on this ugly stage? The man in a tree costume. I feed, off…
-
in this there is no justice, no law. Here I throw myself against you, oh Wall, oh Mystery. Who am I to say who you are? But I know this: I crave for you the way plants grow towards the sun. Yet I cannot see you. I cannot know you. I have never truly known either.…
-
“Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely.” ― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance Gentle, now. Unfold these shoulders: feel the creases, smooth them out, slowly. Skin meets skin: a tender joining of fragile things. Careful folds,…
-
Our love Is like the coffee mugs Left unwashed in the sink After a night of warm conversation. Our love: it’s like a corner, Folded in a book; Jutting out, of a stack of old newspapers. No, our love is a corner, gathering dust. No, our love is the cul-de-sac In the lives we had…
ugly stage 