Candle

I am strings of desire knotted intricately

like a candlewick.

As they burn, I glow

and weep

at the darkness that never

abandons my feet.

Recent Posts

Sometimes when I read Hugo, or Hemmingway, or look at old photographs of Dazai I wonder what must have it been like to be an object of...

I wish for some harmony between the person I want to be and the one I should be or the person I am and the one who I see myself as. I am...

I hope you had stayed tracing silhouette of epiphanies on my bare skin. is intimacy only physical? how much time is adequate to know...