So much to say, which means so little;
So little to say, what that means much.
These ends we face, often,
Come on fast and taper out just as such.
What that remains: naught but thought.
Loose and multiplicitous as strands,
Hair of the artist's brush,
Colors as the richest palette -
Bold & bright, deep & dark

Why I would ever
Knowing it would only
Prove a disaster, & cause only pain.
No sparks to be rekindled,
Only fumes remain of suffocated flames;
As alcohol on water
When all fuel has been spent -
Lamenting the sea

When I looked at the night sky, I felt a deep sense of loss.

The stars, were too far away.

I packed jars into the fridge, so that they preserve all I have left when I come back.

It was a plague, a silence, that followed and sputtered life and people were scared.

But I got to see you. Goodbye.

And when I got back, I starved with little I had.

I envisioned these days so often,
fearful of the independence soon to come.
Repression has surpassed to grant this favor
of forgetful remembrance –
or perhaps my memory you’ve stripped as well.

Loneliness stalks even the proudest of prey,
probing the crevices stashed deep away
to betray the very promises endemic to your core.


Now do I savor the silence I once abhorred.


I lie and I listen to the serenity all around,
obscurities of the day whispering from my walls
as an auburn Cardinal serenades from outside.

The moon beckons me near, apologetic murmurs
of her needless façade from the past –
a revered box fan underwhelms the silence
and disperses my diffused Siberian fir,
crips notes of pine and aromatic wintergreen
to soothe the comfort of my nightly routine.


Now do I know myself more than ever before.

There is nothing left to do but do
I'm tired of hate and silence
I can never not talk
To suffer will be the end of this,
But I already suffer
Suffering is bearable
But to suffer with hatred is death while living
I can smile
I choose to smile even after everything
I live
And someday, I will be gone

I lived, I suffered, I loved, and it was all alright

And your silence hums like a ringing in my ear.
My hand extended in mid-air
and yours lingering by your side.
Needed you then,
needed the sound,
but away, away, away you went.
Nothing left unsaid,
nothing said at all.
I just meditate on the lifeless air,
and talk myself in circles.