In Memory of My Former Neighbors

They talked very little.I was like a pervert peering through to hear them.“I read in a book somewhere what Love is,”I wanted to tell them.They  wouldn’t pay attention.“The Memories broke loose,”I told them.“Now I cant see things for what they are.They impaired my vision.They rain in my window sill.And I don’t know what season it…

Memory Hoarder

These objects, things in my room…. I see them and touch them, my friends come here, they sit on the floor, on the arched sofa with the cushion in their hands, with cha-cups everywhere… I pass nights after nights wide eyed asking for sleep to the nihilistic writers. I die sometimes here just to find…