What can be worse than the complete agony of being in love? Yet what could possibly be a more enriching experience? Some of these entries arise out of the euphoria of first love and the rape of innocence; the rest reflect the musings of a more mature poet: one who is compelled to accept the absurdity of the transient world, but has the courage to romance it nevertheless. At times it is not even poetic... too brutal to be so. But therein lay the catharsis: purgation of life’s follies.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
A metronomic ceiling fan measures my hearbeats: a deja vu of separation.
I remember your brow against my breast; do you remember my stifled sobs from the next bedroom?