Tuesday, June 24, 2008


The violent smell of this acid rain
Knows my name
And how to find me,
So from behind the quiet of my hiding place,
Comes a whole year since I last entertained
The thought
Of this irresistible dance of a season,
And so my flight finds reason
Beyond the wickedness of curious
Little boys,
Beyond snapping jaws of dogs I do avoid,
I must be too quick,
Too fragile.
Then my agile unsteps
Become patterned and parallel
To the dodging of rain-drops,
And whenever the rain stops,
I will still be there.
Either alone or less alive than this frail body
Might be able to carry against air,
So I lose flight from too-weak wings,
And I come across a morning
that brings a different tone
To most Saturdays.
You know where to find me-
Always outside dead, on the floor
This rainy season, I’m sure.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Unearthing a different form of you.
Soaking up your essence from the bottom
of an ink bottle,
blood poison didn't delay itself either.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008


Through words uttered by infants
we would come to terms with black and white,
but on any given day,
grey to me is more than just
the threat of a rainy season sky,
grey is the reason for me not wanting
to understand why
there sinks this gap between the both of us,
grey doesn’t depend on any emotion motivating us
to remain still,
grey is the colour
that I want this to remain until,
I feel I could swallow it all.