31 january 2021
Afloat In Words
Would not move the things.
They had moved me.
I will never be the same.
Probably a time to learn,
listening to yourself. The
sensors didn't go wrong.
More often I will unroll
my candles and burn
them with my life.
Ripening old, in dry
fountains― waiting for
rains in songs of sorrow.
History does not repeat.
I am preparing myself
to start again writing my book.
Will not commit anything.
Standing in morgue
searching for my unclaimed face.
15 july 2025
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14 july 2025
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14 july 2025
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14 july 2025
Jaga
12 july 2025
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10 july 2025
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9 july 2025
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8 july 2025
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7 july 2025
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5 july 2025
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