Sunday, April 27, 2008

whatever happened in the
dead hours of the day
propagates itself to the unforeseen future
persistently

an impenetrable wall of despondence
hangs in the air
clearly mocking the unreasonable
optimism of human nature
if such a thing exists

a deliberate winter of the mind sets in
not with discontent
but with glee

Thursday, April 17, 2008

i was not comfortable with who i was

then came an exodus of the self
not knowing what i sought
lost

a decade
two continents
several broken love stories
and numerous cities later
not much has changed

i still am not much comfortable with
who i am

somehow
my cat disagrees with me profusely
purring up a storm

and i slip into a deep
dreamless sleep
being content with
still not knowing what i seek
not caring for being comfortable with
who i am

i suppose
one dies like this
piecemeal
one sleep at a time