The wine cannot dry my tear

as it gently cushions my cheek

against the gust ahead


The tender drop slips

with alarm bells silently echoing

the partition


Surrounded by real life

my image seeks to anchor

in numb, daily chores


Stupour stings in between

lonesome, repeated paths

and regurgitated conversations


The fingers repel each other

as if poles apart

they belong across borders


Different nations emerge

as veins are renamed highways

and muscles swell on touch


Feeling remains inhabited

in my other side

shrouded in mystery


The battle is to be defined

in cancerous bouts

of winner takes all


As my eye hinder my vision

three choices would confuse

my separated self-s


The pale weakness

cannot overpower

but gnaws like ancient termite


Settled in my throne

I tilt wherever I am told

to grace another wish, with my command


One arm is picking at rocks

and lean, and mean,

and rugged and rustic


The other limps

into the usual mundane

waiting for Godot


Argument is afraid

perched for now

but sure of its beginning and end


I must gather smokeless

nights and of course

un-ferment my days, i hear


To regain some pink cherub

that pretends to be

my innocuous infant-cy


Solidarity restrains itself

as I surge to protect

empty handshakes


The crypt should be shut

at midnight, but it

jerks open at will


Guarding my ghost

I refer to my past

as lonely boredom


It excites strangers

who mark my footsteps

on ugly maps


Leaves fall, in picture perfect

gardens, and wrought iron

chairs smoothen the dream


The sea must be visible

as I smell scented

tea gardens


I must withdraw

into candles

to write my manifesto


BeforeĀ  I leave, I travel

and listen to the story

once more, again


Repeat the strange pendulum

that marks me, over another me,

in centuries of meme


To have heard a million tales

and they all piss into the vast

empty oblivion, that is our