What happens to them is a mystery, I can’t write about
I have a plan, I surrender
To catch hold of those memories
That have fattened their nerves with fear
A fear- The fear- Fear
Of prowling the richness of pleasure
Performance of love, is rather discreet
For as long as it lives
You and me with beating eyes
Will rumble over a hill of reasons
Yesterday-
If time contained in three
And today was now-
I dug in
I saw pain- it looks like someone I know
It’s pale, but it lives
And it is lived.
-They’re barking
And the sounds of little things falling
Make me shrivel -

What happened to me is hardly a mystery
Yet, it pains to understand
An array of perspectives, lining up in vain
I circumvent desire to fulfil him-me-who?
I say I am
I say I do
I talk to myself
I say I can’t
I say I wouldn’t
I’m holding on to her,
Who, as tender as a kiss,
Has fallen off a writer’s dream
In the Autumn of dependence
Courage and Solitude- I master
I’m holding on to her
Who clutches to help falling
Falling off the stairs of independence
Identity and Visions- I expose

I have a question
And when I began I was rolling
I was twirling in the whirlpool
Of what- don’t ask
Because I churn questions, no answers
And here’s what I have to throw
I happen to stay at the length of the day
Poised, brief, known and carved
When the crimson calls the night a fall
I render myself
To the tune that commons us all
Yet, lies in here- unheard.