The primal urge to undo―
your hair. I am going
crazy.
...
After land slips it was
most surreal scene. Cadaveric
donations had started.
...
I become again a fakir,
but not on alms.
A giver wants nothing
...
A wax house you were
gifted to live in sun.
No comments. As if the chess
game now starts. You do not know
...
Your comatose
countenance:
punctuates a coronal spurt.
...
Imperfect mating.
I am lurching forward―
in a chaotic
non-existence.
...
Writing your own elegy in a
blocked artery―
for a syntactic analysis.
...
Your hands tremble,
when you accept―
the cup of hemlock.
...
It is raining.
The water colors.
I miss the ache.
...