eyelash violence

the curious music of eyelashes
glimpses of fire
rounding up sparks
so very different
goose-bumps of a
once known and felt feeling
gatherings of unexpected revelations
carelessly floating
a meeting
on silky wings of butterflies
bitter flies
accentuating tremors of souls
converging into feathered limitlessness
fettered freedom


don’t wake up.you’re not dreaming.

a convergence of mood swings
covering shifting continents of uncertainties
if you can be in love
can you also be in fear?
in hate
in any other feeling?
in wonder, i wonder if wonder’s a feeling
or if you’re wonderful
for feeling it
a disappearing act
a magnet attracting not quite perfectly
drips from wet lips
and truthfully
savage winds storm
half-opened eyes
and the smell of coffee
and the white sheets of books without form
with no words and no titles
yet to be born.


same same
but different limbo
glassy eyes flow
through tremors of the skin
inexplicably musical
unearthly winds of dispair
unused velvet wings
silenced peculiar dances
of fireflies,
shadowed romances
passing through shades of
other perspectives
traces of powdered emotions
reflecting changes of seasons
melting on clouds,
ashes and reasons.


Unfettered realms of unclouded dreams

Nonsensical whimsical trembling

Lightness comes

And goes




Boldness of spirit and braveness of eyes

unshattered by doubt


head barely above water

head barely above water
lingering eyes hanging on the agitated tremors of virgin leaves
scared airways murmuring
for forgotten wings,
unquestioned answers,
gazes lost in shady clouds of tantalizing thrills
powders evaporating
in smoked fragrances
sensory coincidences melting and roaming
mystical convergences of facts and fiction
imagined instances
bitterly defying reality’s whispers


severed ties
hanging from the ceiling of my mind
unedible lies of dormant micro-organisms of despair
clothed as spiders
covered in smear
locked down under layers of butterfly wings
dripping flows of endless streams sheltering dead fish
eyes open wider than wide
hunting mesmorising angles through the traps
behind the leaves of our past
there’s greenness
there’s life in a splash
of coloured amusement
smiles are sometimes just wrinkled disillusions
of the soul.
have you ever wondered what hides below?

or behind, or within. Behold


lived on the rim.