When he falls


It is when he falls with an aroma
Pint by Pint
Into a berserk ocean
It is then I arch my back
for my body to live in harmony
With its own self.

I sit in a lullaby car
It has both emergency headlights on
A sketchbook flying within,
And there is drumming on the gorilla glass

O he is conspiring with two sets of mercenary whales
And seven distant-eyed oval monsters on my window
marked onto a horizon, nibbling
And gasping like my opening throat.

I close my eyes, I open them
I am the glass pane now.

Do you ever get this desire?
To be not you
And to be in fact nothing,
Only a strand of wind
brushing past the squinting mustard beams of the street light?

And to be a smell
without adjectives
Beyond colors
Or even words
In a night where moon is purple and the sky white

And love is made

with the rain.





So what do you think? Please tell us ASAP!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s