Abercrombie and Fitch

i was

wondering if the residue of fear and desire

then again it could be substance

of conformity

rising and falling in a half-empty

decanter of musk cologne

can baptise these ambrose chapels

of kneeling atheists, loving arms

so kiss a little bit longer, until

peeling pineapple barks and mangoe skins

to be flung into the face of strangers

the motions of blowing winds

then being certain

it moves out.

the flimsy branches of trees of heaven

shades the illusion of summer, quaking

towards the barren lightpost

on scarlett street, for

shafts of sunlight, only

brings out the ringlets

of oppressed emotions

of the vast ventriloquism, in us all

Untitled

two hands in their

inverted lust, closer

divide the stranged wind



two hands in their

strange language, expose

the mask of surgeon



two hand in their

second thoughts are

devoured as aged dictators



two hands in their

sense of time, applying

pressure, slowly bleeding



a wound is something terrbily unresolved?