Let me embrace your pains
you, my brothers and sisters...

Tick-tuck, tick-tuck she tiptoe walked
towards my door...

When a poet chants
a songster is ensnared...

No one is behind these closed doors.
There are no birthday parties...

When one cannot write
It is not writers block...

Blood are tender,
though the fangs of thorns are made of stainless...

In the rainbow boxes of preference,
they each are...

Look
how inflated I am...

Our expanding
only circles to reflect in the given radius...

London
caressing the bruised pelt of a perpetual wisdom...

The timbre of a crying dog burning in the...
unsettling like unknown...

You burned me with this winter in your heart
I am truly being burned...