I remember falling
from notions of your treasons,
on your whore's part,
on your second half's part.

I remember drowning
in oceans of your lust
and gathering myself piece by piece
for another blow.

I remember undressing
to be your whore on weekly basis
and shedding tears soon after
on a prayer rug.

I remember fearing
losing you
while quietly looking into your eyes
and letting my heart scream it out.

I remember bleeding
in every fibre of my body
while you laughed quietly watching me
and left me to die

18th April 2010

Your lovely small hands

I remember your hands
and I remember the times I held onto them
telling you "You have small hands".
I'd like to hold them once more
and tell you that you have very small hands.
Could I?

I remember you twitching your shoulders involuntarily
and me telling you "Never loose that
because it makes you... you and I love that about you".
I'd like to sit in front of you with a smile
while having dinner and just watch you twinge
every now and then without knowing it.
Could I?

I remember running my fingers through
thick tresses of your hair and telling you
how I never liked your short hair and
how slightly longer hair suited you so well.
I'd like to do that once more.
Could I?

I'd like to lie on top of you
while listening to your heart
and marvel at the golden amber shine
of your eyes and tell you how amazing it felt
to look into your eyes and hear the echoes
of your heart at the same time.
Could I?

I'd like to watch you talk excitedly
about something new you've found or discovered
and wait for you to say "My goodness"
so I could laugh with an utmost joy
of simply hearing you say it and then hug you
because it just felt so great.
Could I?

I'm hearing the sirens from up above
and the voice of the man I loved so dearly
who you took away from me and robbed me
off of these simple pleasures
whose memories I'm taking to my grave
and my love, I'm holding onto your lovely small hands.
Still.

12:30 AM 11th April 2010

Our bastard child

With all the hatred
that the entire world harbours
that which somehow...
dear God, somehow has been thurst
inside my weary soul,
in every fibre of my body
as if a rag doll has been stuffed with cotton inside
to make it full of life;
I stumble toward the last heap of mountains
with you my love, with you in my heart
that oozes out vermins of your betrayel
stabbed with daggers of your apathy
fucking me from behind
the way of your father's treacherous deeds
the way he fucked you
whose whores weren't enough for him
whose own wife dug you out of her own womb
a creation... a mockery of her own gods
a crown jewel made for that moment of love-making... fucking
where you and I reached our heights
where you and your other whores had gone
before I came along.
Only to lie in labour alone screaming your beautiful fucking name
... to spurt out a clot of blood
that I named "Our bastard child".
Yes, my love, I'm stumbling toward my last destination
and I am holding onto your lovely small hands.

5th April 2010

The End

The end is near
and I am standing alone to meet you.
I hear the trumpets of your essence
and I hear the screams from my dreams.
Can you not see?
I am dragging the ghosts of my past with me.
Will you not seize my soul now
and let the end be done with?
Yes, I cannot see you.
I cannot feel you.
Yet all I have is you
whose deity is more divine
than what my corrupt mind could comprehend.
I knock on your door and leave
when I don't hear your voice.
Only to return again.
What my fore-fathers envisioned
shall end with me
with no one to carry on my own blood.
So let me stand alone
where I can kneel before you, my soveriegn
in the courts of courts
and when my time is delivered
I shall rip open my chest
and present you my righteous heart
that bears the marks of infidelity.
It shall beat in your hands
and cry out "I have loved
and I have loved truly."
Until then, I shall await thy justice.

04 April 2010