Morning chirps mock the muddled mind Too many whys and unresponsive echoes Lonely dawns and lost dusks Change changes nothing. Pine spines cover the terrain in rust Rocks peep from behind the trees Road twists every fifteen metres Mould settles in every crevice Trees ambush the trails Toes and peaks talk River disappears * Playing […]

The silence of the wind is an enchanting absence. recurring consistent soul-consuming The change of seasons is an illusory anticipation. atrocious unfulfilling life-denying The colour of the sky is a blurry vision. sooty sulphuric eye-scratching The flower of the tide is a dusty heap. Sweeping the tree only by a violent surprise The wind is

Do you know the real me? A charade of childish apprehensions A flicker of hearty laughter A cornucopia of silent deceptions A bundle of sighs A glimmer of fatigued vision A string of desperate forevers A clinging for new tomorrows A hope from the depths of hopelessness You do not know the real me.

Let me ask you, please? What do you do when you know they know how you feel… Know that all has been invested And has been revisited Reiterated and reassured? What do you do when you know they are crying softly… Know that they have shut themselves And has been irreversible Indelible and irremediable? What

There’s one. An extremely precious one Sparkling Envied Possessed Locked up Till eternity but not acknowledged Nor remembered Unless To make a statement Perhaps Like an heirloom which stays Forever Is summoned occasionally. There’s another. Like that little piece of jewellery which everybody recognises That favourite tee that always fits That lipstick shade bought every

Remnants of an abandoned shadow Desolated Deserted Deciphered Haunting dark memories. That itch, exactly where, nowhere. The flight Exactly where, nowhere. Those loud loud noises Voices from the heart Amnesiac longings Transversing on crests and troughs Loss at both ends And the gist A hyperbole A sigh.