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once stoic, tall and intimidating, now laid his tired frame on the reclined bed.
i sat on the armchair beside him, looking up at the ceiling-hung tv, the old clunky ones that everyone forgets.

everyone forgets old clunky things.
i can't forget mine.

'the evil-minded will never be affected by compassion'

so draupadi says to yudhistira
and in turn he said to me
if the life we have lived
had harden our hearts like the city

concrete pavements and artificial lights
stealing the fire that our soul feeds
eyes empty like politics
chains dragged from our feet

wanting flight but fear restrains
to express but ( Read more... )

first light brings the bearer of news
more intense as the sun rises through the afternoon
soon mellows with the fading light
while the evening embrace quiets the soul

like leaves for the sun,
only to wake when light gently hits its skin

like a constipated child on a toilet bowl,
waiting for stool

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the weeks of unchecked list had finally come to an end.
it was that one last errand
that one last itch that could never be scratched


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