Girl, your silver-tipped prose  was going to haemorrhage me   word circus turned me to clown    In octagon of mirrors in the gallery cafe  where lipstick palimpsest on coffee cups  colour rouge all the shades of desire,  I viewed her nipples from eight different angles  through the ‘God?’ emblazoned on her thin t-shirt,   reflected to crack’d promises  who dared walk on broken ice?    China...

Not good with surprisesYet here you areYou approached timidly at firstThen the nervousness showedWhat was more  endearingyour approach or the executionI was not looking in your directionYou made my head turnYou made my mind stay on younew questions and...

I don’t need her, She doesn’t need me. Yet we’ll want each other For eternity.

Stations of the Cross of a Ghostly LoveInitial Rubric:Here begins the procession of ghostly love,where each station is absence,each absence is revelation.A letter erected on beams and wind,made of broken tiles and nocturnal breaths.To love is the echo of...