When I grow old, I will go to all the flower shows. I will, of course bring a cactus just to piss'em off though. But that's not what it's really for you know. It's a ledger, for all our kisses, our quarrels, our hugs, our fusses. Accounted dearly for keepsakes. And these prickly ones will… Continue reading Radhika
From the scars on my backto the mole on my neckit has my face andprobably my namea likeness of medreaming my dreams, sleeping my sleepit wears my shoesand walks a mile or twonever hurting, never lowbut fails to showwhen needed mostit comes and goeslike fickle pleasureit is my beinga thing that looks like me.
They are all there stacked in a row like a neat queue of virgin dominoes all the clues forgotten lingerie charging cables without an adapter strands of hair all over my bed Is she going bald this winter? My mother looks at me with disapproval but her face is lit up again pissed that I… Continue reading This feeling