A Scent

Happy days go by like school bells . The short-lived tempos in between classes. Too fleeting. Too fluid. Happiness is gone by moments that couldn’t be seized.  Never in present.  Always in Memories.   A scent. By the time you breathed in, it has fluttered its wings away. A scent. That you almost know the…

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…