A Confession in Tanka

~ Exhilarating,That time, when I stabbed the sky,The world slept in peace,The horizon bled to dawn,And I killed, sleeplessly, the night. ~

From a mannequin

My hands: put them back,Where they always used to be,Bend me in my waist, rest myEyes over at thee. Wrap me in your merchandise,Put me by the door,Staring at the desolate,I beseech, entreat, implore. Lift chin with your hands bare,Keep my poise at rest,Move my body, tear me down,And leave me to protest. Detach me…

Chocolate, orange and fantasy

Food is joy, food is sorrow, food is entertainment; but for me? Well I would say food is emotions on a plate. It’s funny how our emotions manage to seep in and make that guilty indulgence turn to a story of satisfaction and complacency. And maybe here’s when food plays the part of landing us in…

Cosmic dust- an ekphrasis

Touch thisDark melancholy,With those paleFingertips.Whisper the wordsOf silence,With yourSanguine ruby lips. Bring colourTo the darkness,Greens, yellows,Reds and strands.Touch this voidOf vacuum,With yourGentle, healing hands. And in your eyesHold the stars,But, there’s no needTo rehearse.Let’s fall and riseLike cosmic dust,Cause we’re the universe.