Voila!

Textures
Torture
Sublime
Dreams

Seizure:
Fortune
Is your
Means

Phantom,
Phantom:
Show your
Piece

Darling,
Darling:
Make me
Mince!

Aim

I went to school
Learnt ‘bout my grades
I came back home
I wrote the same

I went to the refrigerator
Took a can of beer
Opened it, and my notebook,
I wrote the same.

I saw a nightmare
With three demons
I rushed to my table
I wrote the same.

My life is a paper
My heart is a pen
My mind is my shelter
I wrote the same.

lover, you should have come never

slippery wet fingers clutch my crotch,
a greasy moisty neck rubs mine,
hair, sweaty hair cloud my eyes:
oh, how i hate this reunion -

this cyclic filth - these rhythmic convulsions -
supposed to heal me, but reveals nothing;
tricks me, fools me, goads me
to that momentary belief of
reaching ad infinitum.

Matter

Grind the dust;
They don’t float anymore–
It’s alright.

a warm sunday afternoon

the rushing of steps,
the closing of a door,
the buzz of the refrigerator,
the low humming of a car engine,
the inaudible hiss of a breath,
the silent shoring of dust on my arms
on the arms of my suntanned chair.

they are waiting, for me;
but i am home,
you see?

eel!

i tremble
tremble with
the knowledge
that comes with
the potential.

i tremble
tremble before
the fear causing
me to bear
the unkept promises.

i tremble
tremble under
the weight
of the sin,
the sin of
being nothing.

i tremble
tremble and tremble
to the shivering light
of the winter sun
telling me
it is not over.

personification

i am getting familiar with my smile
encouraging me
to fly