In The Memory Of The Skull

It’s weird UK
And the wafting scent reminds me
Of a nuance, of a menace
Of a movie –maybe
With a queer setting
Characters that melt in their joints
And their bodies are meeting with my being
As an infection of thought
And they emerge
Enticing, as she leans in whispers, and talks
With summer breaks
Her mouth-breeze lands on my cheek
In the front seat of the classroom

And they subside
As the passion of a dying pen
A lone poet
A charging bull
In the memory of the skull
Lying by the wall
A dissolution of the b..r..e..e..z..e
A distortion of the mind
A net of dots

There are many who don’t appreciate
Heart-shaped balloons
Till they fly in circles, wheezing in the air
Or worst: settling in a house of many holes
Till they burst in touch with dysfunctional tree trunks

Speaking of Kinbaku
In my heart a knot
Ready to be untied
And I don’t know what to do

My wakeup call
Some muggers attempt to steal my phone
I chased them off
As if I am seeking different tones of:
“WHATDIDYASAY?WHATDIDYASAY”
So weak, and so small
Yet, small things end up saving our lives
Small acts stood against the blade
And trivial talk
I came to know I shouldn’t play Traveling Soldier song in the early morning

The grocery store reminds me of death
I forgot death
So I forgot life
And then bullet cameras shooting at me
From different angles
As a celebrity of the unknown

But again, it’s but a mere memory of a skull
Beside a wall

I fear myself, but fearing me is like
Fearing a monster with false teeth

My shadow reminds me of him
My Otaku friend
I told him: I always hated motorbikes
Like I always hated heights
But after a while
Weaving between the wind and the dust
I lift my hands in the air and said:
“See. I am started getting used to the motorbike.”