Turns me on
I will write a poem.
Delirious moon had
picked me up from under the skin.
The safety pin was broken,
now a crowd will disrobe me.
Everytime when my pain makes you cry
oranges are not meant for the sale.
A collegium will stich up the wound.
Once upon a caste the country will go.
• On reading Orange Crush of Simone Muench.
Shedding the knowledge
I was aware of emptiness,
that will allow me
to watch from afar?
the message coming from
the locked doors.
Getting nearer the gorge
you want to look at your spitting image?