Sixty painful minutes
Afore shutdown
And I’m still scanning
The pages for your face;
Sixty useless sighs–
Sixty priceless smiles;
A few more seconds
To wander and to hope;
Though, it’s after five
In the morning
And you’re still a mirage
Far, far away.
I finally opt
To ride the waiting bus
And leave
The gaping presence
Of shame;
Then, I hear you
Screaming my name.


Secret Agony

Stitches down your sides;
A stash of provocative wishes,
Crushed by your hand.
A desire to speak–
A yearning so loud to utter
What you have in mind;
Although, no one wants
To listen to your crimes–
A ridiculous waste of time.
Though, you can’t cease
The insistent bleeding;
Shivers creep up your spine;
A lyre wails in the background.



I tell you that you aren’t worth the pain;
But then, I hear myself screaming your name–
My eyes scanning the crowd for your face.



Crickets sitting on a rock–
Screeching, debating,
Gesticulating, conniving;
One lil’ bug passes by;
He isn’t noticed by the lot;
Albeit, he hears them, clearly–
He’s the topic of the month.
Alas! The dried-up ground
Shudders and laughs.



Our intended parallelism was cut;
Now, you ask for guidance.
Like a flower that’s slashed from its tree,
A subordinate who demands independence
Must learn to thrive by himself–
And prove his essence.



Sticks and slashes and games;
Licks and tastes and stains;
Faces and phases and names–
A myriad of voices, incoming;
A chaotic, deafening theme.
Chirping birds and seedless trees;
Ludicrous feelings and dreams–
A gruesome mural of schemes.



You do not need anyone
To identify who you are;
Only the ones
Who do not know themselves,
Yearn for the unnecessary labels
That others liberally give.


A Kiss For A Kiss

Dreams are just kisses
Blown by frolicsome deities–
Unintended to touch
Anyone’s lips.

Plans are those kisses
Snared and held like trophies–
Meant for the ones
Aiming to win.