Paranoid verses
trembling nude in my pocket...

On still nights,
cold air suckles my rose-scented chin...

Find me.
In dim corners...

I immerse my hands beyond
the taut surface of reason...

Cursed with a stroke of agony;
so many words silently drip...

They wore upon my spirit,
not in the way that hurricanes hit...

I leave for you my past
and the last paddle in the sea...

Winds hardly pass
through the gaps of the window...

I allow you to bruise me
like an abstract painting...

We were effervescent and young
before stagnancy took over...

Your winter gust is a firestorm
that burns the chambers of my heart...

Carved into me like I was of stone
thousand folds of faults and corrections...