Blurry is what I see
in front of me...
Let me be indebted
to your vulnerability...
You have lost me
your true-born so...
You do not see the Absolute.
To see...
You—
who, in all this noise...
Stinky
No offense you smell very bad...
The twins of emulation
improvise their slithering stalk...
Do I really have to tell
where I was three days before April ninth...
They barked, “You do not fit, don’t tag along!
Be gone, you beast! Your kind is not our kin...
Veil lifts in twilight—
gypsys dance reddening in...
Feel the losers’ pain,
it will soften your own loss...
Shades of Red
Like the colour of traffic lights...